Mission Uruzgan: Collaborating in Multiple Coalitions for Afghanistan 9789048515011

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Mission Uruzgan

Mission Uruzgan Collaborating in Multiple Coalitions for Afghanistan Edited by Robert Beeres, Jan van der Meulen, Joseph Soeters and Ad Vogelaar

Cover design & lay-out: Maedium, Utrecht ISBN 978 90 8555 050 1 e-ISBN 978 90 4851 501 1 (pdf ) e-ISBN 978 90 4851 637 7 (ePub) NUR 741 © Robert Beeres, Jan van der Meulen, Joseph Soeters and Ad Vogelaar / Pallas Publications – Amsterdam University Press, Amsterdam 2012 All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the written permission of both the copyright owner and the author of the book.

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Table of contents



List of figures and tables / 9

1

Introduction / 11 Among hosts, allies and opposing forces; the Dutch military in Uruzgan Jan van der Meulen, Robert Beeres, Joseph Soeters and Ad Vogelaar

Part I

Setting the stage

2

Brussels calling / 17 National politics under international pressure Jan van der Meulen and Mirjam Grandia Mantas

3

Legitimizing the use of force / 33 Legal bases for operations Enduring Freedom and ISAF Paul Ducheine and Eric Pouw

4 Getting there and back / 47 Organizing long-distance military logistics with customers in mind Ton van Kampen, Paul C. van Fenema and Tim Grant Part II Security 5

Controlling the use of force / 67 Legal regimes Paul Ducheine and Eric Pouw

6 Military ethics and Afghanistan / 81 Peter Olsthoorn and Desirée Verweij 7

On your own in the desert / 93 The dynamics of self-steering leadership Ad Vogelaar and Sander Dalenberg

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8

Strain and stress / 107 Role ambiguity in an unfriendly environment Tessa Op den Buijs, Wendy Broesder and Marten Meijer

9 The use of air power in Uruzgan / 119 Guus de Koster 10 Vipers or tigers? / 133 Early Dutch special forces operations in Uruzgan Michiel de Weger 11 Planning dilemmas in coalition operations / 147 Ton de Munnik and Martijn Kitzen 12 Trust thy ally / 161 Multinational military cooperation in Uruzgan Joseph Soeters, Tom Bijlsma and Gijs van den Heuvel Part III Reconstruction 13 Reconstruction through construction / 179 Julia Wijnmalen, Jasper Kremers and Edwin Dado 14 Talking to strangers, learning to listen / 195 René Moelker and Michelle Schut 15 Stimulating entrepreneurship in Uruzgan / 207 IDEA-officers focusing on private sector development in post-conflict environments Eric-Hans Kramer, Rosa Nelly Trevinyo-Rodríguez and Desirée Verweij 16 Enhancing Uruzgani Governance / 221 The viability of a PRT’s civil-military network Mirjam Grandia Mantas, Myriame Bollen and Sebastiaan Rietjens 17 Task Force Uruzgan and experimentation with organization design / 235 Eric-Hans Kramer, Erik De Waard and Miriam de Graaff 18 Military engagement in civilian healthcare in Uruzgan / 251 An ethical perspective Myriame Bollen, Peter Olsthoorn, Sebastiaan Rietjens and Masood Khalil

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Part IV Evaluating 19 Dutch Treat? / 267 Burden sharing in Afghanistan Marion Bogers, Robert Beeres and Irene Lubberman-Schrotenboer 20 Taking stock / 281 The social construction of effectiveness Sebastiaan Rietjens, Joseph Soeters, Jacqueline Heeren-Bogers and Christiaan Davids 21 It’s not over till it’s over / 295 Sharing memories at the home front Manon Andres and Natasja Rietveld 22 Books and bikes / 309 Noises and voices of veterans Esmeralda Kleinreesink, René Moelker and Rudy Richardson 23 Epilogue / 327 Looking back and moving on Joseph Soeters, Jan van der Meulen, Robert Beeres and Ad Vogelaar Contributors / 335



List of figures and tables

Figures 4.1 4.2 4.3 14.1 15.1 17.1 17.2 20.1 20.2 20.3 22.1 22.2

(Re)deployment logistics network (adapted from Rietjens et al., 2010) TFU: combat readiness and mission logistics intensity Horizontal and vertical alignment in military operations Project management model (Pidd, 1996) Promoting Inclusive Development (PID)-Model Composing a tailor-made expeditionary task force (TFU 1) The composition of TFU-1 Intellectual framework of Uruzgan Campaign Plan (TFU, 2010) ASCP overview CIMIC projects MRA polling Afghanistan-wide Military events mentioned in Task Force Uruzgan Military events mentioned in Brothers in Arms, Brothers on Bikes

Tables 4.1 4.2 7.1 19.1 19.2 19.3 19.4 19.5 19.6 22.1 22.2

Overview of transportation 2006 Comparing Deployment Task Force (DTF) and Redeployment Task Force (RDTF) Leadership theories related to ‘leadership from the edge’ and ‘in extremis leadership’ Additional expenditures ISAF by the Netherlands Armed Forces Deployed troops ISAF (2007-2010) Military fatalities ISAF (2001-2010) Military fatalities per Regional Command (RC) (2001-2010) Attacks by Armed Opposition Groups (AOGs) on Non Governmental Organizations (NGOs) (2008-2010) Number of hectares of poppy cultivation per Regional Command (RC) (2002-2010) Background of victims as % of the total number of victims mentioned Differences between soldier-authors and veteran bikers

1

Introduction Among hosts, allies and opposing forces; the Dutch military in Uruzgan Jan van der Meulen, Robert Beeres, Joseph Soeters and Ad Vogelaar

From the autumn of 2001 onwards, Dutch armed forces have been involved in military operations in Afghanistan. This engagement found its culmination in a four-year period as lead-nation in the province of Uruzgan that started on August 1, 2006 and ended on August 1, 2010. For the Netherlands the latter deployment has been a remarkable episode, whether looked upon from a military, a political or a societal perspective. Significant media attention familiarized the Dutch public with the mission and the multi-faceted character of modern soldierhood. Those who were wounded or lost their lives were a stark reminder of the toll of military deployments in violent surroundings. Looking at this particular mission in this particular period is like picking out one piece from a jigsaw that is much bigger. After the 9/11 attacks in which nearly 3,000 people in New York and Washington were killed, the United States started Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF) to destroy Al Qaeda and to oust the Taliban from Afghanistan. In the latter country the 9/11 terrorists had been training and preparing their actions. Operation Enduring Freedom – a mix of counterterrorism and counterinsurgency – continues up to this very day. Dutch soldiers have incidentally contributed to OEF with a range of units, naval, airborne and landbased. Alongside the warlike operations of OEF, at an early stage a huge endeavour at nation-building started, in which more than 40 countries have taken part. This endeavour was to become the core business of the Dutch contribution in Afghanistan. The International Security Assistance Force (ISAF), legitimized by the United Nations and eventually headed by NATO, came to constitute the organizational network for this extremely ambitious civil-military effort. The scale and complexity of an intervention like this, raises numerous questions about goals and means, interests and ideologies, costs and benefits. Answers can be formulated all the way from the level of international security and military strategy to the level of local culture and human misery. In between there is a vast space for issues of governance, of rule of law and of economic development.

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While focusing on one particular mission by one particular country, we will more or less run into all the problems and issues ISAF in its entirety had and has to confront. This is not to imply that in Afghanistan it is the same all over. Of course not. Finding out what is peculiar in one area or another, not least in terms of local power relations, is one of the most immediate and intricate challenges that poses itself. Sorting out the balance of supporting and opposing forces, while trying to strengthen the former and weaken the latter, cannot really succeed without a thorough knowledge of local histories and circumstances. But whatever the political, social and economic differences from one region to another, all of the contingents of ISAF somehow have to work within a similar framework of overriding problems, issues and dilemmas. Moreover, while ISAF has been carved up partly in national units, each with its own roles and responsibilities, the organization of the whole wide-ranging effort brings with it in-depth coordination and integration. Missions like these can be looked upon as sophisticated exercises – or even experiments – in collaborating in multiple coalitions. At every stage of their deployment, the contingents are engaged in one coalition or another. From the moment a mission is prepared for until the moment it is finalized, it is entangled in networks of partners and stakeholders, inside and outside ISAF. Therefore, looking at the Dutch deployment in Uruzgan as an endeavour in multiple coalitions is a main thread in this book. It goes without saying that sometimes these coalitions come about naturally and work smoothly, but just as often dilemmas, tensions and conflicts are the name of the game. In fact, this is a small wonder in such a demanding environment where so much is at stake. Looked upon from a wider perspective, the question of what is at stake in Afghanistan is contested. Across the globe and between and within Europe and the US, there are different views to be found on the most desirable and most feasible course with regard to Afghanistan. Essentially, this is a matter for political decision makers, who are advised, among others, by military experts. In the Netherlands the dichotomy of reconstruction versus combat has been at the heart of political and public debate, ever since deploying troops to Uruzgan came on the agenda. While essentially the mission’s legitimacy was grounded in reconstruction, the Dutch government made it clear that combating opposing forces could and would not be avoided. Not only as a matter of self-defence but also and especially because security should be considered a sine qua non for social, economic and political reconstruction. The troops were equipped accordingly, with a substantial inclusion of artillery and air-power. Risks were real, so it was emphasized, and probably casualties among the soldiers could not be avoided. For the soldiers themselves this debate had an artificial ring to it. Often, the way in which combat and reconstruction were contrasted did not reflect their experience of Afghan reality. At a more general level, the ambivalence of what ISAF was all about, and how it worked best, was incorporated in the 3D approach. Combining defence, diplomacy and development was another way of recognizing the thin line between talking and fighting. The complexities of this approach and the trial

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and error of inventing best practices can be considered the second main thread of this book. In sum, it is about collaborating in coalitions and about fine-tuning security and development. All along, it is about professional soldiers performing at the top of their trade.

Plan of the book This book is not a history of the Dutch deployment in Uruzgan. While its development over time is taken into consideration, it is neither a complete chronicle of events nor a systematic analysis of how the mission evolved from one phase to another. Rather, we bring together views and assessments from a range of experts who shed light on specific aspects of the mission. In doing so, some of the authors sum up the whole four-year period, while others use a different analytical frame, in terms of time and topics. Taken together, the chapters offer a rich description of mission Uruzgan, but again, this book does not address in a comprehensive sense the organizational or operational history of this four-year deployment. The book has been divided in four main parts: setting the stage; security; reconstruction; evaluating. In the first part (‘Setting the stage’), the political, legal and organizational ‘groundwork’ of the mission is addressed in three successive chapters. Chapter 2 deals with the difficulties of decision making at the crossroads of national and international politics. Chapter 3 disentangles and judges the legal bases for OEF and ISAF. Chapter 4 explains the sophisticated long-distance logistics of deployment and re-deployment. In the second part (‘Security’), eight chapters touch upon legal, ethical, organizational, operational, and psychological issues, which in one way or another are related to security, in the broad sense of the word. Chapter 5 analyzes the multiple legal regimes applying to this particular kind of armed conflict. Chapter 6 describes the ethical dilemmas of nowadays military operations, and takes as its prime case the so called ‘battle of Chora’. Chapter 7 takes a deep look at the demands and responsibilities of ‘leadership at the edge’, especially at the level of junior officers. Chapter 8 is about the strain and stress of the ambivalence, brought about by the different roles and identities of ‘warriors’ versus ‘peacekeepers’. Chapter 9 offers a broad overview of the many aspects (from ethical via tactical to technological) of how air-power was applied during this mission. Chapter 10 unravels examples of special operations and lifts the veil of secrecy surrounding these units. Chapter 11 goes into the dilemmas military planners are confronted with during multinational stabilization operations, full of national caveats. Chapter 12 closes the second part of the book with a look at international cooperation during the mission and especially during the hand-over take-over, when the command was transferred to the Americans and Australians.

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In the third part (‘Reconstruction’), six chapters cover a range of topics that refer to development, in a broad sense, and to partnering with the Afghan population and its representatives in particular. Chapter 13 deals with building – in the literal sense of the word – facilities for the military themselves but also for the local population. Chapter 14 gives a fascinating analysis of the importance of cultural awareness and the crucial role of language in any interaction between ‘locals’ and ‘strangers’. Chapter 15 evaluates the efforts to inject Afghan society with a dose of entrepreneurship, among other things by training business-people and by facilitating a micro-credit system. Chapter 16 analyzes how the ‘comprehensive approach’, especially by way of provincial reconstruction teams, has worked as one of the major venues for building civil society. Chapter 17 is about the organization of the military itself, especially the ways in which it looked for the best ‘design’, flexibly fitting this particular stabilization mission in these particular circumstances. Chapter 18 assesses what the military could do to help build and institutionalize the basics of health care, an effort full of sometimes heartbreaking dilemmas. The fourth section (‘Evaluating’), looks back at mission Uruzgan from a number of different perspectives. Chapter 19 very precisely quantifies and qualifies the contribution and sacrifices of the Netherlands. A comparison is drawn with what other allies contributed, first and foremost in terms of money and lives. Chapter 20 takes stock, measures performance and tries to sort out what kind of sustainable results have been realized in Uruzgan, for instance with regard to the rule of law. Chapter 21 offers an in-depth view of the mission’s impact on the soldiers and their families. Chapter 22 depicts the different ways in which the culture of veterans is meaningful to soldiers, sharing their memories with each other. We close the book with an epilogue in which we raise the question if and how some kind of Dutch approach has manifested itself in mission Uruzgan. We think it has, to some degree. Though it is not always easy to point out exactly what kind of difference it made and while it should not be exaggerated, there are examples of a successful Dutch approach. Of course, whether in the long run they will last also depends on more general developments in Afghanistan. As we said at the beginning of this introduction, this mission was a piece in a much bigger puzzle.

Part I Setting the stage

2

Brussels calling National politics under international pressure Jan van der Meulen and Mirjam Grandia Mantas

Introduction: a two level game It is fruitless to debate whether domestic politics really determine international relations or reverse. The answer to that question is clearly “Both, sometimes”. The more interesting questions are “When?” and “How?” Putnam, 1988: 427 On June 16, 2005, the Dutch parliament was informed by the government about the latter’s intention to deploy troops in the southern part of Afghanistan, in a joint effort with the United Kingdom and Canada. Officially and formally, this so-called ‘notification’ is the starting point for finding out the desirability and feasibility of a military mission. In reality and for all practical purposes, the prospects and possibilities for the intended deployment were already under political, diplomatic and military scrutiny for at least half a year. In Brussels as well as in The Hague, deliberations were well underway with all parties and partners involved, about how a robust contribution to ISAF’s next stage in the stabilization of Afghanistan could be designed (Hazelbag, 2009). This kind of preliminary exploration is normal and necessary, from a political as well as from a military point of view. Yet it also fosters diverging perceptions. Looked upon from NATO, the government’s notification to the parliament tended to be seen as a confirmation of mutual intentions and agreements. In a national context it was framed rather as the kick-off for public and political debate. Whereas international stakeholders felt quite sure about Dutch participation, internally all the pros and cons regarding the proposed mission were still on the table. No doubt the government had made up its mind about the probability of parliamentary support, even beyond the parties of the incumbent coalition. The dynamics of debate though, proved unpredictable and at certain moments serious doubts about the mission came to the surface.

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In this two-level game, as Robert Putnam called it, at the juncture of domestic politics and international relations, neither side necessarily has the upper hand. As far as this particular mission is concerned, certainly it would be a mistake to suggest it was being forced upon a reluctant ally by an overbearing international institution. As a trusted member of NATO, it was logical that from 2002 onwards the Netherlands would participate in ISAF. It befitted Dutch security- and defence-policies and it looked like the typical job to entrust to armed forces that were increasingly earmarked as expeditionary. In principle, there was nothing awkward about the frenzy felt in military headquarters, and even more in diplomatic circles, about going south (Hazelbag, 2009). However, by 2005, in practice it proved very difficult indeed to win over a substantial political majority for this deployment. Later on, sustaining this support for two further years proved a close call as well, but thereafter a shot at yet another follow-up failed. The Dutch military mission in Uruzgan that started in the summer of 2006 was dismantled in the summer of 2010. In this chapter we take a closer look at why, from start to finish, decision making was such a tough nut to crack and what role, at pivotal moments, was played by diplomatic and not so diplomatic interventions from Brussels and beyond. In order to understand how this game was played out, we have to delve a bit into the fabric of Dutch politics, not only as far as security and defence issues are concerned, but in a wider sense as well. Obviously, on a daily basis governing in The Hague is about much more than foreign policy. We try to refrain from too much domestic detail and give scant attention to just a few of the most important protagonists. Our aim in this chapter is not to give a complete chronicle of political events and processes with regard to Uruzgan. We take a selective pick at what happened at crucial stages of decision-making and try to make sense of our observations on a more general analytical level. All along, decision-making about this mission has been covered extensively by the press. At intervals, it has been a big story that has generated news, commentaries, expert views, and a constant monitoring of key-players. Some very informative reconstructions and summaries dealing with this dossier are available, researched and written by insiders, scientists and journalists (Van Reijn, 2007; Hazelbag, 2009; Boom, 2010; Klep, 2011). Wikileaks added a rather unique glimpse behind the scenes, regarding the final round of decision-making. It suggests that in the two-level game of domestic politics under international pressure, arm-twisting is a favourite pastime. Taken together with official governmental documents and reports of parliamentary debates, there are sufficient data and stories, on which to reliably base a chapter like this. Again, we do not pretend to outbid existing reconstructions. Rather our ambition is to add a touch of social-scientific explanation. Of course the interpretations we offer and the conclusions we draw are open to corrections and criticism1.

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A dangerous mission In early December 2005, when asked why the Dutch government still waited with its formal decision to deploy troops to Uruzgan, prime-minister Jan Peter Balkenende explained as follows: ‘This is a complicated and complex mission with great risks. We are not going to skate on one night’s ice’ (Trouw, 2005). To stretch his metaphor a bit further: by then Balkenende had been forced to skate on unreliable ice in bad weather more than once. After the murder of Pim Fortuyn on May 6, 2002, Balkenende – as the leader of the Christian Democrats (CDA) – headed two cabinets in turbulent times. The decision to politically back up the American attack on Iraq in 2003 would haunt him until the end of his political career. The murder of Theo van Gogh on November 2, 2004, strained the alleged failure of the multicultural society to the utmost. On June 1, 2005, an unexpectedly large majority of the Dutch population voted against the European constitution. Every issue had its own roots and consequences, but taken together they symbolized the mood of the country and sharpened political divisions. More or less directly there was a spill-over to other issues – the proposed mission to Uruzgan included. This was not a time to embark lightheartedly on a military adventure, no matter how strongly it was advocated by the Americans, how convincingly it was legitimated by the United Nations, and how professionally it was organized by NATO. Pervasive distrust in society deepened the political complexities, even if Balkenende himself no doubt was referring to the more immediate and visible risks surrounding this mission. From the very moment it became known that in principle the Netherlands wanted to be part of the expansion of ISAF to the south of Afghanistan, there was talk of a ‘dangerous’ mission – the most dangerous since the war in Korea, as was often added (Hazelbag, 2009). In almost every political statement and in almost every news item in the media, the risks of this particular deployment were emphasized. The expectation was that these risks would be much greater than for earlier and other deployments in Afghanistan, like the one in the relatively quiet province of Baghlan, where since the summer of 2004 the Dutch military developed its own Provincial Reconstruction Team. On the one hand, this raised the question of whether the risks for the Dutch soldiers were ‘acceptable’. On the other hand, there were serious doubts whether, in circumstances like these, it was at all possible to really contribute to the goal of the mission: stabilization and reconstruction. Wouldn’t it come down first and foremost to enforcing security by way of combat operations? Assessing this twofold risk – for the soldiers and for the mission – was the centrepiece of the first round of decision-making. It isn’t too far-fetched though, to contend that this has become the centrepiece of deciding on any military mission, not only in the Netherlands but in most if not all European countries. Before unravelling any further how risks were dealt with politically, it is important to address this general context by way of a brief historical and sociological intermezzo.

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The politics of acceptable risks

During the last 20-odd years, the world has witnessed an array of mostly multinational military interventions, small and large, quick and slow, with mixtures of armed forces, on land, in the air, at sea, fitting any niche in the spectre of violent conflict. Attempts at peacekeeping, some of them dramatic failures, dominated the nineties. Attempts at war-making, some of them inconclusive as yet, characterized the aftermath of 9/11. When it comes down to the use of military power, different perceptions between Europe and the United States could be studied as the cultural outcome of different historical paths and/or as the reflection of geopolitics. One way or the other, all of this mattered to NATO, which was expanding ever eastwards during this period and more than once reformulating its own strategic rationale. Typical of this show of force was an approach in which minimizing the risks of military operations developed into an overriding concern, not only to public opinion and to political leaders, but also to the professionals themselves. New military doctrines reflect societal expectations, political oversight and technological promise, all urging towards the minimum use of force (Venneson et.al., 2009). A central yardstick in this context is the consideration for casualties, first and foremost among compatriot-soldiers. By now the so-called zero-tolerance for casualties has been refuted as an overstated conventional wisdom. Briefly it seemed to fit an all too timid kind of peacekeeping, but it cannot stand up to the more sturdy military operations like the ones in Iraq and Afghanistan. However, the fact that in these latter conflicts soldiers are getting killed and wounded again, does not mean that minimizing casualties to the utmost has ceased to be a central goal. Unmistakably, the ‘politics of acceptable risks’ go on to constitute a framework that reflects and symbolizes deep-seated and far-reaching developments and makes its imprint on any military deployment (Van der Meulen and Soeters, 2005). Therefore, looking at decision-making with regard to military missions as an exercise in calculating and minimizing risks, is timely and enlightening. As Martin Shaw contends, while the risks of life and limb to soldiers are most dramatic and graphic, the electoral, economic, legal, narrative and a range of other risks, reverberate in the political process as well (Shaw, 2005). Somehow, the sum of it all has to add up to ‘legitimacy’. The mission has to be made ‘acceptable’ to stakeholders and constituencies with different outlooks and interests. Nowadays, all of them are, Shaw emphatically argues, simultaneous spectators in the ‘surveillance’ of what he calls the ‘new Western way of war’. Whether from a scientific point of view the latter is a convincing denominator for the broad range of force the military may get to apply in very different violent circumstances, is debatable. Typically, in the context of current public debate and political decision-making, to speak of ‘war’, has come to constitute a risk in itself. It certainly was in The Netherlands, as we will now go on to show, but again, in principle we do consider it to constitute a general pattern, European in any case, but discernable in the rest of the world as well, including the United States.

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Beyond Enduring Freedom

After this brief sketch of some of the sociological trends and historical circumstances, that set the stage for deciding and debating the deployment of soldiers, we go back to how in Dutch politics the risks of Uruzgan were made acceptable. Surely there was general recognition that in Afghanistan no mission would be danger proof. However, the southern provinces reputedly were quite violent, if not warlike. The idea behind the expansion of ISAF was to further develop Afghan society (governance, economy, infrastructure) in the wake of Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF). It appeared that in the south, however, OEFs work wasn’t finished and if anything, security had deteriorated. Back in 2001, in the early stages of Enduring Freedom, Dutch forces played a supporting role, in particular at sea and in the air. Special Forces were involved much more deeply, up to the summer of 2005. But now, separating ISAFs endeavours at stabilization and reconstruction from OEFs counter-insurgency, became a central issue in legitimizing the proposed deployment in Uruzgan. A classified military intelligence report, parts of which were leaked in the autumn of 2005, confirmed the dangers confronting the mission and the soldiers, as well as the difficulties of disentangling OEF and ISAF. For the first time, confidence in the planned mission seriously began to waver, not only among parliamentarians, but within the government itself (Hazelbag, 2009). Consultations were stepped up considerably, especially in an international context. American under-secretaries and high-ranking civil servants travelled to The Hague to dispel growing doubts. Secretary-general of NATO Jaap de Hoop Scheffer, urged a quick and positive decision. According to the press, his intervention annoyed some of the ministers. An anonymous source from within the cabinet was quoted as saying: ‘When things go wrong with this mission and people get killed, De Hoop Scheffer doesn’t have to do the explaining’ (Het Parool, 2005). Of course it is true that NATO doesn’t have to deal with the public directly and it has no elections looming on the horizon. On the other hand, it is possible that its secretarygeneral might feel from day to day the sadness brought about by all the casualties, from every member-state, not to speak of the civilian toll among the Afghans. National politicians can be much more selective in their emotions and responsibilities. Jaap de Hoop Scheffer, a former diplomat, long-term parliamentarian and shortterm political leader of the Christian Democrats, had served as secretary of State during the two first cabinets of Balkenende. From January 1, 2004 till the summer of 2009, he headed NATO as its secretary-general. Throughout the Dutch deployment in Uruzgan, with the exception of the last year, he was a key-player in the two-level game. In neither the first round of decision making, nor in the second, did he shy away from publicly putting pressure on the Dutch government. No doubt this reflected what went on behind the screens, in politically and psychologically stronger ways. Whether the outcome at pivotal moments would have been different with a secretary-general from another country is difficult to say – we guess it would

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not. For the political process and the public theatre though, the role of De Hoop Scheffer definitely did make a difference. It serves as a reminder that in politics the influence of persons matters, in relation to their positions, networks and loyalties. No doubt the secretary-general did his best to help straighten out this first critical period, when political support in The Hague seemed to hang in the balance. Making the risks for the Dutch soldiers as acceptable as possible while at the same disentangling the engagement from the operations of OEF, was not without paradoxes. On the one hand the Dutch government wanted guarantees from the Americans in case of real emergencies. However, the United States (US) was not very keen on special bilateral agreements that exceeded what under the circumstances could be considered a normal kind of mutual assistance. It took some tough negotiating at the highest levels in Brussels to formulate a solution that satisfied The Hague. On the other hand the distance to the Americans couldn’t be clear-cut enough. In particular it was considered crucial that none of the prisoners taken by Dutch soldiers would end up in American quarters. The way in which suspects in the war on terror were treated in a legal and moral twilight, with Guantanamo as the ultimate symbol, was a very sensitive issue. Dutch politicians wanted to be absolutely sure that the Netherlands could wash its hands in innocence always. So here the risks were moral and legal instead of physical, but of course all of them, in the end, were political risks as well. Looking back on how in general OEF and ISAF formally were defined worlds apart, the former head of Military Intelligence, major-general Van Reijn (2007) dryly remarked: ‘Evidently, the operational reality in Uruzgan and the political reality in the Netherlands, do not always coincide’. In the course of this mission, an observation like this could and would be made many times on different issues. Usually, the implication is that The Hague is being ‘unrealistic’, or ‘naive’, or ‘hypocritical’. Often from a military point of view this kind of criticism is understandable and not seldom it is warranted. Nevertheless, ‘political reality’ exists in its own right, as a complex clash of views, influences and procedures. As such, in the course of decision-making yet another critical moment in The Hague asked for tough negotiations between key-players.

A broad majority

Professional scepticism notwithstanding, as far the Dutch government was concerned the goals, the means and the risks could be balanced. Towards the end of December, six months after the ‘notification’, the parliament was officially informed about the decision to go forward with the intended mission. In the letter that covered the complete standard-checklist with regard to the (political) desirability and the (military) feasibility of this deployment, no secret was made of the prospect of casualties: This is a mission with real military risks. It has to be noted that the armed forces have gained a lot of knowledge and experience with risky missions in places like

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Iraq and Afghanistan and that they have accomplished these missions successfully. Although it cannot be ruled out that on the Dutch side there will be casualties, the government is of the opinion that with the knowledge and experienced gained, with the build-up and the size of the Dutch contingent, and with the assurances of help and assistance from NATO, the risks have been brought down in such a way that the mission is a responsible one. Stabilizing and reconstructing Afghanistan, in particular the south where the Taliban originate is of the utmost importance to furthering international lawful order as well as to combating international terrorism that is a threat to Europe also. Especially because of the latter interest, the government considers the risks to be acceptable (Letter to Parliament, 2005).

Normally a letter like this confirms the consensus within the ruling coalition. However, the parliamentarians of the D66, one of the three coalition parties, had indicated already that they disagreed with the decision and would vote against it.3 They had come to the conclusion that under the circumstances it would be virtually impossible for the Dutch soldiers to concentrate on reconstruction-activities. Instead, they argued, the military would be forced to fight the Taliban and would end up in the war that was supposed to be the domain of Operation Enduring Freedom. If the two ministers of D66 within the cabinet would go along with this position, and thus diverge from their CDA- and VVD-colleagues, there would be a full-blown political crisis. It would have been the end of mission Uruzgan. On top of that, there was the position of the main opposition party, the Labour Party. Whenever in the Netherlands a major military mission is under consideration, there is a political drive to build a broad majority to back it up. While the Social Democrats could be expected to more or less share the view of D66, they were undecided as yet and maybe could be persuaded to vote in favour of the mission (Brinkel et al., 2009: 180-185). All in all, tensions in The Hague were serious and pervasive and the outcome could not be taken for granted. Within NATO alarm bells were ringing again and many a visitor from abroad urged the Dutch politicians not to back down. A negative decision, they argued, would possibly stimulate doubts in Canada and the UK, the other two allies that were planning to deploy troops in the southern provinces of Afghanistan. Such a development could jeopardize the extension of ISAF and, even more, it could undermine the trustworthiness of NATO as an institution. Messages like these were voiced by one political authority after another. The secretarygeneral of NATO was among them, just like a number of American diplomats. Paul Bremer III, former ambassador to the Netherlands, warned that a ‘no’ might have economic repercussions – a threat that did not make him very popular in the Dutch media. Kofi Annan, the secretary-general of the United Nations, urged at his turn to stick to investing in the future of Afghanistan – of course ISAF was based on Security Council resolutions. The president of Afghanistan itself, Hamid Karzai, was

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interviewed while visiting a ‘donor-conference’ in London. He held a passionate plea in front of Dutch journalists, arguing that the fight against terrorism was just as much in the interests of the Netherlands: ‘By going to Uruzgan, you are defending your own streets.’ Pressed about the risks, Karzai got somewhat irritated: ‘Uruzgan is no more dangerous than other areas. It is just like the rest of Afghanistan. Don’t be so afraid. If you are so afraid how can you defend your own country?’ (NRC Handelsblad, 2006a). That same day a large majority of Dutch parliament voted in favour of the mission. D66 stuck to its ‘no’ but their ministers subscribed to the cabinet’s decision. A crisis was prevented. The Social Democrats provided the traditional broad majority, a kind of semi-consensus which is also a way of sharing political risks. A header in the newspaper typically summarized the outcome as: ‘127 parliamentarians [out of 150] in favour of dangerous mission Uruzgan’ (NRC Handelsblad, 2006b). All in all it took more than a year before the original plan that popped up from within the civil-military networks of NATO had passed all the thresholds of decision-making. The buzz-word ‘dangerous’ was present from the beginning and so once again it came down to the politics of acceptable risks – for the soldiers and for the mission. Of course now the big question was if and how the reality of Uruzgan – from August 1, 2006 onwards – would meet expectations from The Hague. In the next section of this chapter, after wrapping up the main conclusion of the two-level game so far, we’ll pick up the debate at the point where the second round of decision-making focused on the question whether to stay another two years.

Two more years It has been argued that the lengthy process of initial decision-making had all the workings of a trap (Klep, 2011). Notwithstanding difficult deliberations and nagging negotiations in The Hague and Brussels, once the preliminary political promise had been made and military planning had been set on its course, it would be virtually impossible to abstain. This argument is not without ground. There is little doubt that to NATO and to the allies that were involved most directly, Canada, the UK and of course the US, it would have come as a big nuisance if the Netherlands had opted out after all. They did not hesitate to remind the Dutch of their obligations – in public and no doubt in private as well. Sometimes this annoyed politicians and commentators, and to some degree it seemed to backfire. National decision-making rightfully claims its own peculiarities and procedures, as well as time for debate and room for dissent. The public in particular resents the look of ‘international elites’, enforcing their agenda on domestic politics. The EU-referendum spoke for itself and the polls suggested that mission Uruzgan was not very popular either. When parliament finally gave its green light, public opinion was divided at best (Van der Meulen and Vos, 2008).

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The appearance of a trap notwithstanding, it could have ended differently. At several critical moments, the decision hung in the balance. For reasons of substance or because of political manoeuvring – and most probably because of a combination of both – ‘no’ could have been the outcome, no matter the wrath of NATO. In fact, a future ‘no’ was already being announced as part of the official decision and its concomitant checklist: ‘The Dutch contribution will last for a two-year period. It has been agreed with NATO that this organization is responsible for finding relevant contributions to ISAF after the aforementioned period of two years’ (Letter to Parliament, 2005: 23). During the parliamentary debate, prime-minister Balkenende reiterated the agreement: ‘After two years the Dutch contribution will be taken over by other NATO countries’. How sure Balkenende felt that NATO would take care of such a change of the guards, we do not know. Certainly he could not have predicted the kind of thin ice he yet again was forced to skate on in domestic politics. His second cabinet fell before the mission in Uruzgan had even started. Parliamentarian and celebrity Ayaan Hirsi Ali was the protagonist in a political soap that in the end made the left-wing liberals (D66) blow up the coalition. On the face of it, the affair had nothing to do with Uruzgan, but Hirsi Ali herself embodied some of the most contentious issues surrounding immigration and integration, especially in relation to Islam. Elections in November of that year resulted in a new coalition, which was technically the fourth government in a row headed by Jan Peter Balkenende. His Christian Democratic party was now joined by the Social Democrats and as a junior partner by the more orthodox Christian Union. Both the right-wing liberals (VVD) and the left-wing liberals (D66) became part of the opposition. Eventually, this change of domestic political parameters would not fail to have an impact on the future of mission Uruzgan.

Trapped again?

When, from the summer of 2007 onwards, the prospect of prolonging the mission became ever more real, somehow the impression took hold that – even more than during the first round of decision-making – a form of entrapment dictated the outcome. The process looked familiar enough: sometime early in 2007 there had been talks going on between Brussels and The Hague. After a meeting between the secretary-general of NATO and the Dutch minister of Defence, Eimert van Middelkoop, it was denied that the former had formally requested the latter to prolong the mission. A bit later though, Van Middelkoop, who belongs to the Christian Union, suggested that probably the Netherlands would stay (Klep, 2011: 52-53). The Social Democrats in particular were not amused, as they wanted to keep all options open as long as possible. That’s what their leader, finance minister and deputy prime-minister Wouter Bos, told US secretary of state Condolleeza Rice, during the NATO summit at the end of October (NRC Handelsblad, 2007d). By that time, the Dutch secretary of state, Christian Democrat Maxime Verhagen, had clearly marked his position: ‘In my opinion the US is our most important ally.

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We are not going to say: we have signed up for two years, so let’s pack and get out. As an international community, you have to stick to your responsibilities’ (NRC Handelsblad, 2007b). Obviously, within the coalition views differed, not just on this particular issue. There was talk of trade-offs with other issues of the day, as far apart as the flexibilization of hiring and firing on the labour-market and the treaty of Lisbon (Boom, 2010). Whatever else it was, at times Uruzgan was just another political issue on which to win or lose or compromise. Very familiar as well was the interest and the pressure from abroad. The Australian secretary of state called upon the Dutch to stay (NRC Handelsblad, 2007a). So did president Karzai when he received prime-minister Balkenende in Kabul. The Dutch ambassador in Washington lectured visiting parliamentarians, to their surprise. And of course the secretary-general of NATO beat the drums as before. De Hoop Scheffer could not imagine the Dutch cabinet would decide to leave Afghanistan, as the only country in the alliance: ‘In the Netherlands sometimes you have the misunderstanding that NATO is an organization without membership. But if NATO has to solve this, it’s NATO with the inclusion of the Netherlands’ (NRC Handelsblad, 2007c). This time it was Balkenende himself who publicly riposted that this kind of intervention was not appreciated. No doubt Balkenende was playing his role, just like De Hoop Scheffer did. But maybe there was some real annoyance, because it wasn’t very obvious that NATO had tried hard to find a substitute. As the Netherlands themselves were to discover, it proved impossible even to find partial replacements from one particular country, on a qualitative par with the Dutch and the Australian troops – the latter valued from the start as an important coalition-partner. In the end, a number of smaller contingents from a handful of nations could be booked for the summer of 2008, most of them expected to perform some kind of supporting role. For the role of lead-nation no other candidates came forward, so the only solution was, so it seemed, that the Dutch would go on doing it themselves. Among commentators, the general feeling was that ‘no to Uruzgan was virtually out of the question’ (Trouw, 2007). Did the (operational) reality of Uruzgan itself play any role at all in this stage of the two-level game or was it all about the power-play of NATO and the multiple fronts and frames of domestic politics? The answer is something of a paradox. Of course everything that happened in Uruzgan was monitored closely and critically. Any event or incident could and would be brought up as an argument in the permanent debate about how good or bad things stood with this mission. Its first year, especially from the spring of 2007 onwards, seemed to confirm some of the worst fears. It was much more about combat than about reconstruction, and the ‘battle of Chora’ showed an intensity of fighting long unheard of for the Dutch military. There were casualties to be mourned, soldiers were getting killed and wounded, and in the fog of these warlike circumstances, Afghan civilians paid dearly as well. Those who had opposed the mission from the start were strengthened in their opinion. The mainstream of the politicians who had supported the deployment in Uruzgan were certainly worried about developments. Possibly some of them were

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surprised and disappointed, even desperate. However, things turning sour could hardly be used as an argument to leave. Harassing NATO about promises to be kept was one thing. Arguing after hardly a year that the mission was a misguided adventure was out of the question. Instead, it was emphasized that stabilization and reconstruction hadn’t been absent altogether and were still feasible. Now that the prospects for security were getting better, efforts to help realize, among other things, good governance, better health-care and education for girls, would only be stepped up. Wouldn’t it be a disgrace to let down the people of Afghanistan at a hopeful moment in their war-ridden history? As was noted by many a commentator, more than initially the thrust of the argument got humanitarian (Klep, 2010). No matter the imponderabilities of Afghanistan and the rest of the world, this time one thing was going to be made crystal clear. The mission would be prolonged for two more years, that is, until the summer of 2010, and not for one day extra. Words to that effect were written down in the formal decision that was sent over to parliament. To avoid any misunderstanding, the secretary-general of NATO was even invited to come to The Hague and confirm personally that in due time his organization would take care of replacing the Dutch troops. Unfortunately, De Hoop Scheffer’s agenda prevented this visit but he was quite willing to receive a delegation from parliament in Brussels. So role-playing and arm-twisting went on until the very last moment. In the meantime, for the press and the public the bottom line of the new decision was beyond doubt and discussion. An editorial in De Telegraaf (2007), the Netherlands’ biggest newspaper, with a good feel for the vox populi, put it like this: ‘It is completely right that parliament has formulated rockhard demands towards the cabinet with regard to the definitive end of the mission. From now on, there can be no misunderstanding whatsoever: the departure of the Netherlands from Uruzgan in 2010 is definitely certain’. In the end it turned out that way, but only after a political fight took place that plunged The Hague into a crisis that proved beyond the reach of Brussels.

The final act

At some point at the end of 2008, Minister of Defence Eimert van Middelkoop rhetorically suggested that if even if President Obama would call him with a request to stay in Uruzgan beyond 2010, the answer would be ‘no’ (Klep, 2010: 60). As it happened, there would be a phone-call from the White House, by vice-president Joseph Biden, though it was not to Van Middelkoop but to his colleague in the cabinet, Wouter Bos, leader of the Social Democrats. This phone-call was just one example of the pressure put on Bos to go along with some kind of follow-up mission. Reports from the US-embassy in The Hague, brought out into the open by Wikileaks, suggest that in the course of 2009, Bos was being targeted by a concerted diplomatic effort to have him change his mind. Rather shocking to a Dutch audience was the impression that civil servants from the ministries of Foreign Affairs and Defence were wholeheartedly advising their counterparts in Brussels and Washington on how to tackle Bos2. Savants of the mores of diplomacy claimed

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that in principle there was nothing unusual or disloyal about this kind of lobby. Foul play or not, the two-level game with regard to Uruzgan went to extra time, which was unforeseen and consequential, especially for domestic politics. The driving force behind bringing up the prospect of an extended mission was the secretary of state, Maxime Verhagen. From his perspective it was quite logical to respond positively to president Obama’s real call on allies to contribute to the surge, which would be the military set piece of his new strategy for Afghanistan. Going along with the new president was logical, not only because Verhagen himself is a passionate Atlanticist, but also because at that very moment it seemed to fit the foreign-policy interests of The Netherlands. Instead of being the odd-man out, it would reconfirm itself as a solid member of NATO. Moreover, by 2009 the official storyline about the mission was more upbeat than two years earlier. While combat was still around the corner and casualties were suffered at intervals, stabilization and reconstruction looked more successful. Within the military itself, some felt that it would be a waste to leave at a time when things had taken a turn for the better. All these arguments notwithstanding, domestic politics had its own logic as well. With the exception of the Christian Democrats, in a repeated vote parliament subscribed anew to the decision to leave Uruzgan in 2010. By now the political risks of yet again switching from a seemingly rock solid ‘no’ to a slippery ‘yes’, were substantial. Especially for the Social Democrats who supported the mission twice against the preferences of their own party-members, it looked like a self-destructive gamble to make a U-turn. However, public aversion towards the mission did not only come from the left. The potential voters for Geert Wilders Freedom Party (PVV), which was booming in the polls, were among the most vocal opponents of Uruzgan. Wilders himself, who backed the mission in 2006, but opposed its prolongation in 2008, laid emphasis on the twofold argument of taxpayers’ money and international burden sharing. As he saw it, the Netherlands had done quite enough in Afghanistan, in fact more than its share, and public spending should prioritize the Dutch peoples own problems. All in all the political risks of the mission had become multi-fold indeed. The combination of economic and electoral risks in particular, tightened the options and limited the choices. In the end the coalition failed in reaching any kind of compromise to deploy a follow-up force for a one-year-period, in Uruzgan or elsewhere in Afghanistan. Intense pressure from Brussels and Washington notwithstanding, political disagreements proved unbridgeable. The cabinet fell and new elections had to be called. Finally it was ‘definitely certain’: mission Uruzgan was over on August 1, 2010. While in two former rounds of decision-making the trap of an early ‘yes’ to international stakeholders made a later ‘no’ an improbable outcome, now it was the other way around: a repeated ‘no’, made a third ‘yes’ an unlikely proposition in domestic politics.

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Discussion In a bitter editorial under the heading ‘Dutch Retreat’, The New York Times called the upcoming departure of the Dutch troops, ‘an embarrassment to the Netherlands, to NATO and to Washington, at a moment when President Obama’s counterinsurgency strategy faces a crucial test.’ The editorial praised the Dutch soldiers ‘as good fighters, sensitive to local needs and concerns’, and blamed the Social Democrats who – allegedly in contrast to Prime Minister Jan Peter Balkenende and his Christian Democrats – did not want to extend the mission and who gave in to popular demands. It is pointed out that the elections will be much more about Muslim immigration than about Afghanistan: ‘The biggest parliamentary gains are expected to go to the hate-spewing Freedom Party, which also advocates withdrawing from Afghanistan.’ After warning that the Dutch example might be followed by ‘wavering politicians elsewhere’, The New York Times concluded: Europe’s leaders need to tell themselves – and their voters – the truth. The war in Afghanistan is not just about America’s security. It, too, is about denying sanctuaries to Al Qaeda, which has also carried out deadly terrorist attacks in Europe. NATO is stronger when it stands together. The Netherlands weakens itself and all of its allies by choosing to stand alone (2010).

This latter assertion about the need to tell the public why the mission in Afghanistan is worthwhile pursuing, has often been made by commentators, politicians and generals. While in office, secretary-general Jaap de Hoop Scheffer regularly and even a bit desperately acknowledged that somehow electorates refused to believe in the ongoing necessity of NATO’s endeavours in Afghanistan. He blamed himself and all those politically responsible for failing to communicate the message. Once out of office and looking back he ventured: ‘We haven’t been convincing’ (NRC Handelsblad, 2010). On the one hand these (self-) critical observations are justified and rightly presume a growing gap between public perceptions and political narratives. On the other hand, to suggest that in essence it was a failure of strategic communication is indirectly to claim that deep-down the cause itself and its translation in a lengthy military operation, was or should be beyond doubt and discussion. This was hardly the case though, witnessing all kinds of perfectly legitimate and understandable differences of opinion that have flourished in public debate and have been contested in the political arena, between as well as within the United States and Europe. All of this reflects peculiarities and choices with regard to this particular conflict. It also testifies to the ways in which in the current world, the reach and niches of ‘global surveillance’, defy consensus, undermine information and challenge truth. Of all the risks to be made acceptable, maybe narrative risks are the most daring for politics and politician (Ducheine et al., 2010).

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In this chapter we have addressed the ‘political reality of the Netherlands’, which fits in with and is an example of this general pattern. We have analyzed how, at critical moments, decision-making with regard to the military deployment in Uruzgan developed. All along we struck upon parties, procedures and processes that belong to the local political landscape. We have suggested how, in a two-level game, The Hague and Brussels tried to steer decision-making and how the outcome at one particular moment had its impact on the next round of negotiating. Briefly, we hinted at the importance of other issues that colour the political strife of this decade. At the end of the day, there were angry faces and conspicuous bruises, nationally and internationally. Scapegoating was all around, though most commentators agreed that there were many losers and hardly any winners. It has been argued that the Netherlands paid a price for an ‘activist’ kind of foreign policy, that was overambitious and beyond its (military) means (Rood and Doolaard, 2010). Looked upon from another perspective, the balance of power between parliament and government has been criticized, the former being engaged in too much oversight and intrusion with regard to the details of military operations (Klep, 2011). These are important points which deserve serious consideration, not least in the light of the future of the Dutch armed forces and their underlying rationale. The meaning of mission Uruzgan stretches beyond the particular period it covered. All the same, it can be read in its own right as a remarkable chapter in the politics of acceptable risks.

Notes 1 We are grateful to two high-ranking key-players, one military, one civilian, who generously shared with us their insights and experiences. However, none of our assertions in this chapter are specifically based on these background interviews. Ours is an interpretive reading of all that is public and known about the politics of this mission. The first round of decision-making was meticulously reconstructed by major Lenny Hazelbag MA (2009), partly by way of first hand interviews. Chist Klep wrote an informative, probing and wellargued history of the whole period (2011). Wilco Boom wrote a journalistic account of the fall of Balkenende IV (2010). While Uruzgan is the immediate cause, Boom shows how much other political issues mattered. For us, all three authors have been very useful while writing this chapter, in terms of checking the facts and thinking through their meaning. Basically, our own data have been gathered from reading the main national newspapers, as well as from skipping through governmental letters and parliamentary debates. 2 These particular Wikileaks documents were first published by NRC Handelsblad, from January 15, 2010 onwards. 3 The three coalition parties were Christian Democratic Appeal (CDA), Peoples Party for Freedom and Democracy (VVD) and D66. Roughly speaking the VVD are right-wing liberals and D66 left-wing liberals. PvdA (Labour, Social Democrats) was the other main player.

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References Boom, W. (2010) De val van Balkenende. Wat ging er fout? (The fall of Balkenende. What went wrong?). Amsterdam: Nieuw Amsterdam Uitgevers. Brinkel, Th., Moelker, R. and Westmaas, S. (2009) Politiek-militaire betrekkingen: recente ontwikkelingen met betrekking tot het primaat van de politiek (Political-military relations: recent developments regarding the primacy of politics). In: Moelker, R, Noll, J. and De Weger, M. (eds.) Krijgsmacht en Samenleving. Over de inzet van een geweldsinstrument. Amsterdam: Boom, 163-189. Ducheine, P., Van der Meulen, J. and Moelker, R. (2010) Legitimacy and surveillance: Shifting patterns of external control. In: Soeters, J., Van Fenema, P.C. and Beeres, R. (eds.) Managing Military Operations. Theory and practice. Oxon/New York: Routledge, 29-41. Hazelbag, L. (2009) Political decision making of the mission in Uruzgan, a reconstruction. In: De Weger, M, Osinga, F. and Kirkels, H. (eds.) NL-ARMS 2009. Complex operations: Studies on Lebanon (2006) and Afghanistan (2006-present). Breda: Netherlands Defense Academy, 251-276. Het Parool (2005) Amerikaanse topambtenaren naar Den Haag: Bert Bakker (D66); ‘Ik hel steeds meer over naar een Nee’ (American top officials to the Hague: Bert Bakker (D66); I tend to go to a No’) (November 30). Klep, C. (2011) Uruzgan. Nederlandse militairen op missie, 2005-2010 (Uruzgan. Dutch soldiers on mission 2005-2010). Amsterdam: Boom Letter to Parliament (2005) Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Ministry of Defence. Nederlandse bijdrage aan ISAF in Zuid-Afghanistan (Dutch contribution to ISAF in South-Afghanistan). The Hague (December 22). New York Times (2010) Dutch Retreat. Available at: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/25/ opinion/25thur3.html. NRC Handelsblad (2006a) Er zullen slachtoffers vallen; Afghaanse president Karzai over de Nederlandse missie in Uruzgan (There will be victims; Afghan president Karzai about the Dutch mission in Uruzgan). NRC Handelsblad (February 2). NRC Handelsblad (2006b) 127 kamerleden voor gevaarlijke missie Uruzgan; Afghanistan (127 members of Parliament vote for dangerous mission Uruzgan; Afghanistan). NRC Handelsblad (February 3) NRC Handelsblad (2007a) Minister Australië blij met Nederland. (Australian Minister happy with the Netherlands). NRC Handelsblad (September 7). NRC Handelsblad (2007b) We kunnen niet zomaar onze biezen pakken’, Maxime Verhagen over Europa, Uruzgan, de dreigende taal van Rusland en zijn waardering voor de VS. (We can not just pack our bags. Maxime Verhagen about Europe, Uruzgan, the threatening language of Russia and his appreciation for the US). NRC Handelsblad (September 15). NRC Handelsblad (2007c) ‘Er kan niemand weg uit Afghanistan’; NAVO-chef Jaap de Hoop Scheffer over verlengen missie Uruzgan. (‘Nobody can leave Afghanistan’; Jaap de Hoop Scheffer about extending the Uruzgan mission). NRC Handelsblad (September 19). NRC Handelsblad (2007d) Navo sust onderlinge spanning; meer animo voor Uruzgan. (NATO appeases mutual stress ; more enthusiasm for Uruzgan). NRC Handelsblad (October 24).

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NRC Handelsblad (2010) De Hoop Scheffer: Nederland doet afbreuk aan de NAVO. (De Hoop Scheffer: Netherlands harms NATO) Available at: http://vorige.nrc.nl/nieuwsthema/ uruzgan/article2491892.ece/De_Hoop_Scheffer_Ne-derland_doet_afbreuk_aan_NAVO. Putnam, R. (1988) Diplomacy and domestic politics: the logic of two-level games. International Organization 42(3), 427-460. Rood, J. and Doolaard, M. (2010) Activisme als risico: buitenlands beleid onder Balkenende (Activism as risk: foreign policy under Balkenende). Internationale Spectator 64(1), 567-571. Shaw, M. (2005) The New Western Way of War. Cambridge: Polity Press. Telegraaf, De (2007) Missie (2) (Mission (2).(December 1) Trouw (2005) Balkenende is positiever over Afghanistan missie (Balkenende is more positive about Afghanistan mission). Available at: http://www.trouw.nl/tr/nl/4324/nieuws/archief/article/ detail/1712861/2005/12/03/Balkenende-is-positiever-over-Afghanistan-missie.dhtml. Trouw (2007) Nederland tot 2010 in Uruzgan (Netherlands until 2010 in Uruzgan). Available at: http://www.trouw.nl/tr/nl/4324/nieuws/article/detail/1374147/2007/12/01/Nederlandtot-2010-in-Afghanistan.dhtml. Van der Meulen, J. and Soeters, J. (2005) Dutch Courage: The politics of acceptable risks. Armed Forces & Society 31(4), 537-558. Van der Meulen, J. and Vos, A. (2008) De publieke opinie over Uruzgan. (Public opinion about Uruzgan). Militaire Spectator 177(7/8), 393-402. Van Reijn, J.A. (2007) De missie Uruzgan: politieke besluitvorming nader bezien (Mission Uruzgan: scrutinizing political descion-making). Carré 30(5), 20-24. Venneson P., Breuer, F. De Franco, C and Schreuder, U. (2009) Is there a European way of war?’ Armed Forces and Society 35(4), 628-645.

3

Legitimizing the use of force Legal bases for operations Enduring Freedom and ISAF Paul Ducheine and Eric Pouw

Introduction: legitimacy “Well spoken, knight”, said the jester, “If only you would care to remember that fighting evil does not render one virtuous! Good and evil are enemies, but there may not be much to distinguish between them” Tonke Dragt, 1987: 305 Good and evil are separated by a very thin line. This is common knowledge to the military, especially to their legal advisors. The jester – in the above quotation – eloquently expresses the fact that doing ‘the right thing’ is not sufficient (for knights). ‘The right thing’ has to be executed in ‘the right way’ as well. This double standard is closely related to the issue of ‘legitimacy’. Recent military operations like Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF), Iraqi Freedom and International Security Assistance Force for Afghanistan (ISAF) proved the crucial role of legitimacy of and within operations for the public and political appreciation of these operations. Legitimacy is a principle of democratic societies vested in the rule of law, and is especially applicable to the armed forces. It implies that (1) the military require a legal basis for their (domestic and international) operations; and that (2) these operations when executed comply with the applicable legal regimes. Not by coincidence, this double standard is one of the principles of the Dutch Army’s military doctrine (Koninklijke Landmacht, 2009: 107). The legal component of this principle consists of the legal basis for and the legal regimes applicable to the operations. The social and ethical components relate to public support for the operations. As recent history shows, deficiencies in the legal basis of an operation (like Iraqi Freedom) and/or violations of or disrespect for the applicable legal regimes (Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo Bay) have a negative effect on the

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social component of legitimacy, as is evident in the decline of public support for the so-called Global War on Terror. As such, OEF and ISAF have also been criticized. OEF supposedly lacked a legal basis, since it involved the reaction in self-defence of the United States (US) and its allies after a terrorist assault. Three elements were questioned. First, could a terrorist assault constitute an armed attack triggering the United States’ right of self-defence? Second, can a Non-State Actor (NSA) like Al Qaida be the author of such an armed attack? Third, to whom should the US reaction in self-defence be addressed: Al Qaida or Afghanistan of both? ISAF’s legal basis was also questioned, since it – at least partially – rested on the consent of a newly installed (interim) Afghan government: a government that existed only as a result of the regime change following OEF. This chapter addresses the legal bases of OEF and ISAF by examining a specific branch of international law: ius ad bellum (the right to wage war). Any discussion of the legal basis of ISAF is futile without having considered the background of the preceding OEF. Another incentive for analyzing both operations is the fact that the two cover the full spectrum of potential legal bases, and for that reason they are exemplary for modern military operations.

General rule: prohibition of force Irrespective of their objectives or origins, military operations such as OEF and ISAF are only allowed in the current ius ad bellum as set out by the United Nation’s (UN) Charter. The use of force, as well as the threat of force, is forbidden in inter-State relations by Article 2(4) of the UN Charter: All Members shall refrain in their international relations from the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any State, or in any other manner inconsistent with the Purposes of the United Nations.

The meaning and purport of this prohibition forms the basis for all discussions in the ius ad bellum on the legitimacy of extra-territorial military operations. Although some support a liberal view of Article 2(4), we adhere to the more accepted extensive interpretation, meaning that any use of (or threat with) cross-border armed (i.e., military) violence by UN member States, for whatever reason, is forbidden, unless the UN Charter or international law provides in an exception to this rule (Ducheine, 2008: 127). Armed or military use of force may encompass many shapes and means. In essence, ‘force’ involves the application of physical force, regardless of the scale of it. The threat with force, too, is forbidden when this use of force itself cannot be legitimized (Stürchler, 2007).

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Article 2(4) seeks to protect three values. First, it prohibits force that violates a State’s territorial integrity (Schachter, 1984: 649). Secondly, the prohibition safeguards a State’s political independence. Thirdly, Article 2(4) prohibits the use of force that interferes with the UN’s purposes of maintaining international peace and security and – in view of that – preventing and ending any threats against that peace, as well as repressing acts of aggression or other breaches against peace. Although the prohibition on force primarily refers to inter-state relations, it also covers cross-border use of force against NSAs as such, since these cross-border operations against inter alia Al Qaida, affect the territorial integrity of the State where the NSA is located (Ducheine, 2008: 135-138). Therefore, temporary or limited breaches of the territorial integrity or political independence, for instance, in the form of a brief actions against NSAs, as was the case in the US response to Al Qaida’s bomb attacks on US embassies in Kenya and Tanzania (Operation Infinite Reach, 1998) – irrespective of their objectives – also fall under the prohibition (Ducheine, 2008). While, as a basic rule, the use of inter-state force is prohibited, cross-border military operations, irrespective of their nature or cause, may nevertheless be lawful, provided they find a basis in (one of ) the three accepted exceptions (Dinstein, 2005: 88; Simma, 1999: 2): 1. intervention with the consent of, or invitation by a (host) nation; 2. authorization of the UN Security Council under Chapter VII of the UN Charter; 3. self-defence. These three exceptions will be briefly and generally introduced in the next paragraph. Later on, the exceptions will be analyzed to determine whether they constitute a legal basis for the operations involved: OEF and ISAF.

Exception 1: Consent

Within the boundaries of international law, each sovereign State is allowed to give another State permission to carry out military operations on its territory (Ducheine, 2008: 341-349), provided that the consent is: (1) genuine (i.e., not ‘manipulated’ as in the Austrian ‘Anschluss’); (2) may be attributed to the legitimate government of the inviting State; and (3) that the operations remain within the limitations set by the inviting State, and they do not exceed the restrictions that would be applicable for the inviting State, when executing these operations (Nolte, 1999). Once consent is expressed by the inviting States, their operations will be bound and regulated by specific legal regimes.

Exception 2: UN SC Authorization

Although States regularly – rightfully or not – appeal to their right of self-defence to legitimize their resort to force, the primary exception to the prohibition on force

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as it has been in effect since 1945 concerns the use of force authorized by the UN Security Council, using its powers under Chapter VII (Ducheine, 2008: 292-339). In the collective security system of the UN, the Security Council holds the primacy for maintaining and restoring international peace and security. As the occasion arises, the Security Council may define a situation as ‘a threat to the peace, a breach of the peace or an act of aggression’ (see article 39). This qualification opens the road to, and is a prerequisite for, the authorization of the use of force against state or non-state actors. This authorization is based on the powers that have been adjudicated to the Security Council under (article 42) Chapter VII of the UN Charter. The authorization for the use of force provides the legal basis for (a group of ) States, or a regional organization, to use force against the designated state or nonstate actor(s) in order to impose the will of the international community on those actors (Blokker, 2000: 544). This authorization normally contains the phrase ‘to use all necessary means’ or ‘to take all necessary measures’, which – when necessary – also includes the use of force. The authorization, which is ordinarily laid down in a UN Security Council Resolution, thus not only includes the authorization to use force in a designated mission, but also the mandate or the purpose of that mission. The use of force is by definition restricted to the necessities of the applicable mandate. However, the UN Security Council is not always willing or able to qualify situations as a threat to the peace [etc], or authorize the use of force subsequently. This inactivity is mainly caused by fact that the UN Security Council is a political body, which means that, apart from the collective security system, there are other (geo-) political interests among the permanent and non-permanent members of the UN Security Council that may play a role (Ducheine and Pouw, 2009). For that reason, States may resort to the third exception on the prohibition of force: self-defence.

Exception 3: Self-Defence

Self-defence concerns a State’s resort to force to protect its sovereignty and independence against the illegal use of force by others. The threefold purpose of selfdefence is: 1. to repel an impending or transpiring armed attack; 2. to negate the consequences thereof; 3. and to prevent a sequel to the initial attack. As the collective security system of the UN shows various imperfections in practice (supra), States appeal to this inherent right in the majority of cases of inter-state use of force. The right to self-defence is laid down in article 51 of the UN Charter: Nothing in the present Charter shall impair the inherent right of individual or collective self-defence if an armed attack occurs against a Member of the United Nations, until the Security Council has taken measures necessary to maintain international peace and security.

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Self-defence is allowed conditionally (Ducheine, 2008: 140-276; Gill and Fleck, 2010: 190-197). It can, first of all, be invoked only after an armed attack has occurred or in case of an imminent threat thereof, provided such threat is ‘instant, overwhelming, leaving no choice of means, and no moment for deliberation’. Also, a series of multiple smaller attacks may qualify as an armed attack on the basis of the accumulation of events doctrine or Nadelsticktaktik (Ducheine and Pouw, 2009: 57). Secondly, self-defence is a temporary right until the UN Security Council has taken effective measures to resolve the situation. Self-defence operations, thirdly, have to be reported immediately to the UN Security Council. Fourthly, self-defence has to meet the intrinsic conditions of necessity (including immediacy) and proportionality (Ducheine and Pouw, 2009: 57-58). The conditions first of all determine whether the execution of the operation, as such, is legitimate. If one or both conditions is flawed, the operation lacks a correct legal basis and is unlawful. In addition, the conditions define the content of the operation, in that they regulate the size, the intended intensity and effects, as well as the form of the operation. These conditions are closely related and carefully balanced. Necessity is related to (1) the armed attack and the purpose of self-defence, (2) the purpose of the attack(er), and (3) the availability of alternatives (Gill, 2003: 17). The latter criterion implies that peaceful alternatives – such as mediation, consultation or law enforcement initiatives – prevail over the military response in selfdefence. If force has to be applied against the NSA of an armed attack (e.g. Al Qaida), this is primarily a responsibility of the State in which territory the group is situated. This State could consent to or grant permission for an operation on its territory. If consent is not expressed, it must then be subsequently considered whether such an operation is possible with authorization of the UN Security Council. If these alternatives are absent, not available in time, or not expedient in the sense that they may be expected to be effective, the necessity to self-defence is present. Once realistic alternatives present themselves during a self-defence operation, or the threat or the source of the attacks has been eliminated, the necessity for self-defence terminates. This is also the case when the Security Council or the State involved takes effective measures, after all. Proportionality refers to (1) the parity between the attack and the defence measured in terms of the total scale and effects of both, and (2) the purpose of the attack(er) and the defence. Enduring Freedom as well as ISAF unmistakably qualify as cross-border military use of force, and fall therefore under the prohibition of force. If States involved cannot appeal to one of the exceptions to the general rule, a sound legal basis is absent and the legitimacy of the operation under the ius ad bellum becomes questionable. Below, it will be considered whether exceptions to the prohibition on force in the context of OEF and ISAF are applicable.

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Enduring Freedom Operation Enduring Freedom involved the immediate response of the United States and their allies after Al Qaida had launched its devastating attacks on the World Trade Centre, the Pentagon and Flight 93 in September 2001. OEF commenced on October 7, 2001, when US and British Forces launched attacks on Al Qaida and the Afghan Taliban regime that was harbouring and supporting Osama bin Laden’s organization in Afghanistan. The US (and the United Kingdom) notified the UN Security Council, as required under article 51 of the UN Charter, that they had ‘initiated actions in the exercise of its inherent right of […] self-defence following the armed attacks that were carried out against the United States on 11 September 2001’ (UN Doc S/2001/946). Although the UN Security Council implicitly condoned the US response by ‘recognizing the […] inherent right of self-defence’ in its Resolutions 1368 and 1373, the resort to self-defence as a legal basis for Enduring Freedom fuelled a fierce debate amongst States and jurists. The debate focused on a number of topics or academic legal questions. First of all, did the ‘9/11’ terrorist attacks constitute an ‘armed attack’ triggering the US’ right to self-defence? Secondly, could a NSA (i.e., Al Qaida) qualify as the ‘author’ of an armed attack? Thirdly, who should be the addressee of the self-defence operation: Al Qaida and/or the supportive Afghan Taliban regime? And finally, did Enduring Freedom comply with the substantial requirements of self-defence, especially necessity and proportionality? These four sources of debate will be analyzed below.

Armed Attack: threshold

Although an armed attack is a prerequisite for self-defence, it is not defined, and therefore subject to debate. In general, an armed attack is characterized by the application of cross-border (conventional or unconventional) armed force by regular or irregular armed forces (Ruys, 2010). As an armed attack ‘denotes a reasonably significant use of force which rises above the level of an ordinary criminal act’ it requires a minimum level in terms of ‘scale and effects’ (Gill and Fleck, 2010: 191). Since the ‘9/11’ attacks were launched from abroad (i.e., the attackers were foreign nationals who entered the US for the very purpose of the execution of the attacks), they imply a cross-border element. Secondly, the attacks undisputedly denote the application of use of force, as the (three) hijacked planes were used as unconventional flying bombs in a coordinated operation. The use of force, measured by its scale and effects, outweighs the heights of normal criminal (and even terrorist) behaviour. As such they were easily comparable to a very substantial conventional armed attack launched by regular armed forces (Ducheine, 2008). The fact that the attacks had been launched by an irregular armed group, Al Qaida, is a separate issued that is addressed infra.

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Armed Attack: author

Normally, an armed attack is launched by a state actor, usually the regular armed forces, which was also the general idea when the UN Charter was crafted at the end of WWII. In the ‘9/11’ case, however, the author turned out to be a terrorist group, operating on its own behalf, and for that reason a NSA. This circumstance seemingly deviated from the accepted views on self-defence up to/until 2001. The argument that armed attacks executed by these NSAs granted the United States a right to call into effect their inherent right to self-defence and launch Enduring Freedom was questioned. At present, however, it can be argued – certainly in view of the practice and views since 2001 – that NSAs can also qualify as authors of an armed attack (Ducheine, 2008: 162-170). History contains a number of incidents in which NSAs have launched attacks that were qualified by the defending State as an armed attack. Dated, but nevertheless the starting point for any discussion in this field, is the 1837 Caroline case in which the acts of a rebel group triggered the right of self-defence. More recently, Hezbollah’s 2006 attacks triggered Israel to respond in self-defence (which was criticized however for reasons of proportionality and necessity). Turkey resorted to numerous self-defence operations after attacks by the PKK, operating from Iraqi territory (UN Doc S/1995/605), and the US responded with Operation Infinite Reach against Al Qaida in Sudan and Afghanistan in 1998 after the bombing of its embassies in Kenya and Tanzania (UN Doc S/1998/780). The fact that the authorship of armed attack is not restricted to States, but also applies to NSA, is, first of all, supported by the fact that the UN Charter is silent or neutral in this respect. Secondly, the Caroline case had – besides the treaty provisions in the UN Charter – long established the customary nature of self-defence against these NSAs (Tibori Szabó, 2010). Thirdly, the International Court of Justice ruled in its famous Nicaragua case that armed attacks include not merely action by regular forces, but also cross-border acts by irregulars, provided that they are equivalent in scale and effects to attacks carried out by regular forces. Fourthly, the UN Security Council implicitly qualified the ‘9/11’ attacks as armed attacks when referring to the ‘inherent right to self-defence’ in the preambles of resolutions 1368 and 1373. Finally, it is relevant to note that NATO concluded that the ‘9/11’ attacks were armed attacks in the meaning of its cornerstone provision of Article V of the NATO Treaty. We conclude that the ‘authorship’ of armed attacks extends over state and nonstate actors, provided that, in the latter situation, the attacks equates to attacks in terms of scale and effects of regular armed forces. In sum, Al Qaida qualified itself therefore as the author of an armed attack, and triggered the United States’ right to respond in self-defence. Before OEF could be launched, one other issue had to be resolved: against whom should the operation be directed?

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Self-defence: addressee

In more general terms, the previous issue could be rephrased as: who is the addressee of self-defence (Ducheine, 2008: 255-274)? Before launching Enduring Freedom, the US had to answer this very question. The question was complicated by the fact that the author – Al Qaida – ‘resided’ in, and received (material) support from the then Afghan government: the Taliban. The US resolved this question by directing Enduring Freedom not only against the NSA, but also against the supportive (and involved) Afghan State. Although few states and international lawyers criticized the former decision (i.e., to act against Al Qaida), the latter was more disputed. Logic dictates that the addressee of self-defence and the attacker (the author of the armed attack) are one and the same. In the ‘9/11’ situation, this line of reasoning would designate Al Qaida as the principal target of Operation Enduring Freedom. Support for this conclusion can be found in the fact that the International Court of Justice never explicitly condoned this interpretation, and that history and customary law provide for an undisputable example in this respect: the Caroline case. The reality, however, is far more complicated since any defensive operation against Al Qaida, by definition (except for the High Seas), affects the harbouring State(s). Thus, since it was believed that Al Qaida was operating from Afghan territory, the defensive operations logically had to take place in Afghanistan, thereby interfering with its territorial integrity. However, a modern reading of the ius ad bellum supports the argument that Afghanistan had to tolerate the United States’ resort to self-defence operation on its territory (Ducheine, 2008: 259-261). Complicating things even further, besides designating Al Qaida as the principal addressee, the US identified the Afghan Taliban regime as an additional addressee of Enduring Freedom. Although this decision was criticized by some, the argument can be made that the Taliban regime was substantially involved in the ‘9/11’ attacks and that, as a consequence, the State of Afghanistan could be seen as the co-author of the attacks (Ducheine, 2008: 208). Hence, the US was entitled to address Enduring Freedom against the Afghan State as well. This designation had an impact on two intrinsic elements of self-defence: necessity and proportionality.

Self-defence: intrinsic conditions of necessity and proportionality

Above, in relation to OEF, two aspects of the armed attack as prerequisite for selfdefence, as well as the aspect of the addressee of self-defence have been analyzed. Now, the fourth issue, the intrinsic conditions for self-defence, will be discussed. OEF received criticism for two additional reasons related to these intrinsic conditions: necessity and proportionality. First of all, some argued that the US could have responded otherwise, e.g. by responding under the paradigm of law enforcement instead of under the paradigm of armed conflict (the so-called War on Terror) or through a UN Security Council authorization, thereby questioning the necessity of OEF. Secondly, it was argued that the US should have restricted its response to the primary author of the ‘9/11’

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attacks (i.e., Al Qaida) and that by extending it to the Taliban regime and the Afghan State as well, OEF exceeded what was acceptable in terms of proportionality. As concluded previously, necessity is related to (1) the armed attack (assaults) and the purpose of self-defence; (2) the purpose of the author of the attack; and (3) the availability of alternatives. The fact that Al Qaida had proved itself capable of continually launching attacks over a number of years with the support of states such as Afghanistan, is a relevant factor. As soon as Al Qaida is prevented from carrying out further attacks, the necessity of self-defence ceases. In sum, therefore, it is justified to argue that the US had to resort to an armed self-defence reaction against Al Qaida; after all, a state does not have to accept such breaches. With regard to alternative methods for a solution, gaining consent from the Afghan Taliban regime for the military operation (against itself and Al Qaida) was not a feasible option. With respect to a UN Security Council-mandated operation, the US had the right to respond on the basis of self-defence, until this body would take matter into its hands effectively. It may be argued that, to date, the UN Security Council has implicitly condoned the US response without actually taking initiatives that indicated a Chapter VII authorization, and that would remove the basis to use of force on self-defence. The fact that the US has a permanent seat in the Security Council is, of course, a relevant factor. Since it seemed to be impossible to fend off new attacks, or to prevent their (renewed) success by restricting defensive operations to Al Qaida solely, the US apparently had no other solution but to direct its attacks to the co-author of the ‘9/11’ attacks, the Afghan Taliban regime as well. Gill (2003: 33) argues that ‘eradication of the Al Qaeda network in Afghanistan and consequently the overthrow of the Taliban regime’ was the only option. The ‘symbiotic’ relation between Al Qaida and the Taliban regime which held power in Afghanistan had a strong influence on that option (Stahn, 2002: 225). Proportionality cannot be considered separately from necessity. As was said above, it relates, on a macro level, to (1) the parity between the total scale and effects of an attack versus defence, and (2) the relation between the purpose of the defence and the attack preceding it (Ducheine and Pouw, 2009: 65). Sometimes a large-scale reaction, such as OEF, to a relatively limited attack, such as Al Qaida’s attacks on ‘9/11’, is unavoidable (Gill, 2007: 124). This is, for instance, relevant in case of a danger of continuation or repetition of those attacks. In such a case the ability of the attacker must sometimes be countered in order to undo the consequences of the attack and avoid a repetition. In this respect it can be argued that a military response against Al Qaida as well as Afghanistan was proportionate, since there was evidence that Al Qaida had been involved in a series of terrorist attacks against the US (e.g. the 1993 attack against WTC, the 1998 embassy bombings in Africa, the 2000 attack against the USS Cole). Apart from that, it was announced by Al Qaida that renewed attacks had been planned (O’Connell, 2002: 899).

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Conclusion: Legitimacy of OEF

It can be concluded that OEF qualifies as an act of self-defence, triggered by Al Qaida’s ‘9/11’ attacks. These attacks could be labelled as an armed attack, regardless of the fact that they had been executed by NSAs who used unconventional means to cause severe damage. As such, the US were – within the constraints of necessity and proportionality – entitled to launch their response on October 7, 2001, to which a number of allies, the Netherlands included, attributed military forces. Shortly after the beginning of OEF, the UN Security Council in its resolution 1386 of December 21, 2001, implicitly reaffirming the US’ right of self-defence, additionally agreed with the establishment of the International Security Assistance Force for Afghanistan or ISAF. It is this mission that is central to this volume, and its legality in terms of legal basis will subsequently be analyzed.

ISAF In contrast to the complexity of the legal basis for OEF, ISAF’s legal basis can be more easily established. It is grounded in a UN Security Council authorization under Chapter VII of the UN Chapter, supplemented later on with the consent of the (interim) Afghan central government (Ducheine and Pouw, 2010). It should be noted that, even though they take place simultaneously in the territory of Afghanistan, OEF and ISAF are two intrinsically different international operations, each serving their own purpose, but with a common point of departure: Al Qaida’s ‘9/11’ attacks in the US.

UN Security Council authorization

On December 21, 2001, only a few months after the commencement of OEF, the UN Security Council issued its resolution 1386, which authorized, ‘as envisaged in Annex 1 to the Bonn Agreement, the establishment for 6 months of an International Security Assistance Force’. ISAF was initially mandated ‘to assist the Afghan Interim Authority in the maintenance of security in Kabul and its surrounding areas, so that the Afghan Interim Authority as well as the personnel of the United Nations can operate in a secure environment’ (UN Doc S/RES/1386). The mandate, renewed by succeeding resolutions 1413 and 1444, empowered ‘the Member States participating in [ISAF] to take all necessary measures to fulfill its mandate’, thereby implying the authority to use military force in fulfillment of ISAF’s mandate. A coalition of the willing (i.a., the UK, Turkey, Germany and the Netherlands), subsequently headed the multinational force before NATO took over in 2003. In October 2003, the UN Security Council expanded ISAF’s initial mandate, which was limited in geographical terms and tasks:

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[The Security Council], authorizes expansion of the mandate of the [ISAF] to allow it, as resources permit, to support the Afghan Transitional Authority and its successors in the maintenance of security in areas of Afghanistan outside of Kabul and its environs, so that the Afghan Authorities as well as the personnel of the United Nations and other international civilian personnel engaged, in particular, in reconstruction and humanitarian efforts, can operate in a secure environment, and to provide security assistance for the performance of other tasks in support of the Bonn Agreement (UN Doc S/RES/1510).

ISAF’s command was transferred to NATO. Geographically, ISAF’s Area of Operations was extended to the north (stage I), whereas its mandate now also included supportive tasks to implement the Bonn agreement. Later on ISAF also assumed responsibility for the western part (stage II, 2005), and the southern part of the country (stage III, 2006). Eventually, in February 2006 ISAF’s and OEF’s areas of responsibilities merged, which was welcomed by the UN SC in Resolution 1659: [The Security Council] welcomes the adoption by NATO of a revised Operational Plan allowing the continued expansion of the ISAF across Afghanistan, closer operational synergy with the Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF), and support, within means and capabilities, to Afghan security forces in the military aspects of their training and operational deployments; With the final move to the east (stage IV), concluded in October 2006, NATO now covers Afghanistan completely.

The contribution of the Netherlands, central in this volume, was authorized with UN SC Resolution 1707, fits within stage III, and was situated in the south of Afghanistan (Klep and van Gils, 2005): [The Security Council] expressing, in this context, its support for the Afghan Security Forces, with the assistance of ISAF and the Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF) coalition in contributing to security in Afghanistan and in building the capacity of the Afghan Security Forces, and welcoming the extension of ISAF into Southern Afghanistan, with effect from 31 July 2006, the planned further ISAF expansion into Eastern Afghanistan and the increased coordination between ISAF and the OEF coalition.

ISAF, the Dutch contributions included, thus received its mandate directly from the UN Security Council, operating under Chapter VII of the UN Charter. Its mandate is summarized by NATO as follows: to protect the Afghan people; to build the capacity of the Afghan security forces and enable them to assume responsibility for security themselves; to counter the insurgency; and to enable the delivery of

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stronger governance and development. Implied is the task to protect its own (and coalition) forces.

Consent

As of June 2002, consent, as expressed by the interim government of Hamid Karzai, serves as a second and additional legal basis for ISAF’s mission. This consent is widely regarded as genuine and valid, although some refer to the fact that Karzai was installed as a direct result of the regime change enabled by the US (and allies) and their Operation Enduring Freedom. The adequate response to these concerns would be that the regime change in Afghanistan was the result of a legitimate operation under ius ad bellum. Apart from that, since the Bonn Conference of December 2001, Karzai has acted as the president of the (interim) Afghan government. A significant date in this respect is 13 June 2002, on which the Loya Jirga appointed Karzai as Interim President of the new position as President of the Afghan Transitional Administration. As of the latter date, consent is expressed in the Military Technical Agreement between NATO (i.e. ISAF) and the Afghan Interim Administration regarding ISAF: [The] Interim Administration understands and agrees the Mission of the ISAF is to assist it in the maintenance of the security in the area of responsibility […]. The Interim Administration understands and agrees that the ISAF is the international force authorized by UNSCR 1386 and may be composed of ground, air and maritime units from the international community. The Interim Administration understands and agrees that the ISAF Commander will have the authority, without interference or permission, to do all that the Commander judges necessary and proper, including the use of military force, to protect the ISAF and its Mission.

It should be remembered however, that consent can be subject to restrictions expressed by the sovereign of the Afghan State. These restrictions concern the conditions that determine ISAF’s military operations.

Conclusion The purpose of this chapter was to examine the legal basis of ISAF, and of the preceding OEF. After all, the legal legitimacy of modern military operations consists of two elements, the legal basis being the first, respect for applicable legal regimes being the second. OEF is based on self-defence, triggered by Al Qaida’s ‘9/11’ attacks against the US. As such the ‘9/11’ attacks have contributed to knowledge of the ius ad bellum, since sincere concern about the applicability of self-defence had been raised, especially among legal scholars. Although Al Qaida lacks statehood, it qualified as the author of the initial attacks. Being the author, a legal basis existed to subject Al Qaida to

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the US’ military response, OEF. In addition, Afghanistan, as the sponsor of Al Qaida, could also be made subject to the use of force under self-defence. Following OEF, ISAF initially was authorized by the UN Security Council, and equipped with a mandate that was limited in scope and geography. After the initial authorization in 2001, ISAF mandate – in terms of scope and geography – was expanded by subsequent UN SC resolutions. Today, ISAF plays a significant security role in the whole of Afghanistan.

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Koninklijke Landmacht (2009) Land Doctrine Publicatie: Militaire Doctrine voor het Landoptreden, LDP I (Royal Nertherlands Army Doctrine Publication, part I). Amersfoort: OTC Operatiën. Nolte, G. (1999) Eingreifen auf Einladung. Zur völkerrechtlichen Zulässigkeit des Einsatz fremder Truppen im internen Konflikt auf Einladung der Regierung. Berlin: Springer. O‘Connell, M.E. (2002) Lawfull self-defense to terrorism. University of Pittsburgh Law Review, 63 (Summer), 889-908. Ruys, T. (2010) ‘Armed Attack’ and Article 51 of the UN Charter – Evolutions in Customary Law and Practice. New York: Cambridge University Press. Schachter, O. (1984) The Legality of Pro-democratic Invasion. American Journal of Inter­ national Law 78(3), 645-650. Simma, B. (1999) NATO, the UN and the Use of Force: Legal Aspects. European Journal of International Law 10, 1-22. Stahn, C. (2002) International Law at a Crossroad? The impact of September 11. Zeitschrift für ausländisches öffentliches Recht und Völkerrecht 62, 183-256. Stürchler, N. (2007) The Threat of Force in International Law. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Tibori Szabó, K. (2010) Anticipatory Action in Self-Defence – The Law of Self-Defence – Past, Present and Future. Amsterdam: University of Amsterdam.

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Getting there and back Organizing long-distance military logistics with customers in mind Ton van Kampen, Paul C. van Fenema and Tim Grant

Introduction The word ‘expeditionary’ in expeditionary operations evokes the image of climbers conquering a challenging mountain. Those climbers and their support infrastructures are focused on achieving the top in a physically hostile environment, as quickly as possible, and carrying a minimum of resources. Climbers spend substantial time and effort in planning the operation beforehand, transporting themselves and their equipment to the area of operations, recovering everything back again afterwards, and in refurbishing their equipment for the next expedition. Similarly, organizations responsible for projecting military force across the globe invest in resources to minimize their footprint while enhancing their required effectiveness. The purpose of this chapter is to provide insight into what the Dutch military logistics organization learned from Mission Uruzgan in terms of strategic logistics. We focus on the shift in logistics strategy from efficiency to effectiveness, and its impact on the logistics organization. Moreover, of the standard five phases in a military operation – planning, deployment, sustainment of the operation, redeployment, and refurbishment – this paper focuses on deployment and redeployment. Today’s operations are characterized by the ability to achieve military effects – including kinetic and comprehensive approach operations – using advanced technological and intelligence resources across great distances. To conduct expeditionary operations, the armed forces must have high-quality units that can demonstrate a high level of independence within an international coalition (MoD, 2005: 58). Expeditionary operations often take place in areas with reduced infrastructure, requiring extensive preparations for making the area of operations accessible for coalition units. The quantity and quality of logistic resources required to provide support to a force must cover the entire mission spectrum that these forces might be expected to perform. The readiness of logistic resources is achieved by establish-

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ing the capability to provide the required support, including the full provision of stocks and assets, within the specified readiness time, either by stockpiling or by other arrangements (NATO, 1999; 2007: 48). As part of the ISAF-mission the Dutch Taskforce Uruzgan formed a joint coalition – a collection of countries with partially overlapping interests involved in a temporary military operation which is unified by a common goal – together with the UK and Canada and was deployed in the Southern part of Afghanistan. Commanding and deploying complex weapon and IT systems, it experienced the accompanying logistical challenges such as acquiring insight into military operations’ demands for logistics services, into developing the transparency of supply chains, and into managing risks. In addition, the volatile social and security situation in this complex theatre initially called for security operations rather than the anticipated reconstruction efforts (Sinno, 2008). Military logistics to support expeditionary operations differs from commercial supply chains and is more complex. It involves a network of locations, rather than a simple chain. Moreover, the network is split into a procurement and operational network. The procurement network transports physical goods (e.g. vehicles, ships, or aircraft) from the manufacturer to the military user (i.e., soldiers, sailors, and airmen). The operational network transports the soldiers, sailors, and airmen, together with their vehicles, ships, and aircraft to the theatre of operations. This chapter focuses on the operational network. The military logistics network must be constructed before the personnel, vehicles, and equipment needed for operations can be transported into theatre. Hence, getting there – deployment – involves constructing the logistics network and transporting all the personnel, vehicles, and equipment needed for operations to begin. Getting back – redeployment – involves transporting all personnel, vehicles, and equipment in theatre back home and then dismantling the logistics network.

The Uruzgan Case

Deployment Task Force

On 2 February 2006, the Dutch parliament finally agreed to participate in the NATO mission (ISAF stage III) in Southern Afghanistan together with Canada and the United Kingdom for (initially) two years. Dutch forces were to be deployed in the province Uruzgan, the Canadians in Kandahar province and the United Kingdom in Helmand. The Task Force Uruzgan (TFU) was reinforced with Australian forces. To support the deployment of the Task Force Uruzgan (TFU) troops, a Deployment Task Force (DTF) was formed to take care of all the necessary logistic preparations. The late political agreement to participate in the ISAF mission left little time for logistic planning and pre-deployment activities for the DTF. There was little interest for this task force. All political and military attention was focused on how to perform reconstruction operations, Uruzgan being a hostile environment, and on

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how to guarantee safety to the Dutch troops. In the end, only 23 days remained to conduct all pre-deployment activities. It was inevitable that mistakes occurred. As there were insufficient transport aircraft available, it was not possible to fly in all the military equipment and supplies. Since Afghanistan is landlocked, the only workable alternative was to use harbours in the surrounding countries, and to hire local vehicles to transport the containerized goods and equipment. The Dutch Army used the harbours of Karachi in Pakistan and Fuyairah in the United Arab Emirates (UAE) as Sea Ports of Disembarkation (SPODs). All armoured vehicles and essential equipment were shipped to Fuyairah and from there transported by military aircraft (C-17) to Kandahar. All other equipment and supplies went to Karachi and then by road to KAF. After assembling the armoured vehicles and performing rehearsals, according to the initial deployment planning the troops were deployed by road convoy to Tarin Kowt and Deh Rawod in Uruzgan. Table 4.1 summarizes deployment transportation in 2006. Table 4.1

Overview of transportation 2006

Type of Transportation

Transportation Means

Volume

Sea transportation

Chartered ships

3

20 feet containers

943

Large vehicles (excluding MercedesBenz jeeps)

237

Regular sea transportation

20 feet containers

102

Strategic air transportation

IL-76

91

KDC-10 shuttle

45

USAF C-17

30

AN-12 (mail)

11

MI-26 Halo

1

AN-12

1

20 feet containers dry cargo

740

20 feet cool/deepfreeze

60

Convoy Port Qasim (Pakistan) – Kandahar

23

Theatre air transportation Rented containers Transportation by road

Note: Volume is expressed in either number of transportation movements or containers.

During the deployment, the DTF was confronted with a serious change in their original mission. The Commander ISAF ordered the DTF to take part in offensive operations instead of paving the way for the incoming TFU. This change caused not only a delay in the deployment timetable, but it rendered the logistical planning and preparation almost useless. Most of the equipment and supplies had been

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transported in the most efficient way, loaded into containers, and transported by ship. In Kandahar, the vehicles had to be assembled, made combat ready, and transported by convoy to Tarin Kowt and Deh Rawod. Now, many containers needed to be opened to find the right equipment to assemble the combat vehicles. The absence of a clear view of what was inside the containers caused a small chaos. To support the deployment of the TFU, an additional Rotation Support Team had to be brought in. DTF had no longer the means or the time to assist TFU. Fast forward to the redeployment scheduled for 2010.

Redeployment Task Force

To smoothly transport 2,300 containers and over 450 vehicles during the redeployment in 2010 required significant improvements. Information was the key for such logistical success, in addition to investments in discipline and training (experience and skills) of personnel. The planning group of the RDTF started the planning process at the end of 2008, analyzing other redeployment missions, such as Operation ‘Brockdale’ (redeployment UK from Iraq). The planning group learned what was necessary to control the redeployment process: tracking and tracing, a Material Inventory, Diagnostic and Quartermaster Team (MIDQT) for furnishing the Staging Areas, and a plan for refurbishment of the equipment to regain operational readiness. All activities were worked out in detailed plans and tested during several exercises. Not only did the personnel become experienced in executing their tasks, but also they became experienced in using the necessary equipment to control the process. For the first time Radio Frequency Identification (RFID) technology would be used to gain total asset visibility. The differences between DTF and RDTF are highlighted in Table 4.2. Table 4.2

Comparing Deployment Task Force (DTF) and Redeployment Task Force (RDTF)

Three sub-phases

DTF

RDTF

Sub-phase 1: Planning the (Re)Deployment Planning

Limited due to political hesitation (warning order received in September 2005)

Almost 2 years (started in December 2008)

Formation date

December 2005

January 2010

Training and equipment

Very limited, political and military focus on training and deploying TFU (to reach IOC in August 2006)

Multiple exercises in 2009/2010 (focus on equipment training and convoy ops)

Personnel

Limited logistic expertise in staff

Mostly experienced logisticians (subject matter experts)

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Three sub-phases

DTF

RDTF

Sub-phase 2: Pre (Re)Deployment Focus

Efficiency, transport equipment and stocks to Staging Areas for RSOI

Effectiveness, regaining operational readiness at home base (RDIMP plan)

Asset visibility

Limited, there was no accurate unit equipment list

Almost complete, initialized by MIDQT

Primary task

To collect information about To get total asset visibility Uruzgan (operational/politi- and prepare infrastructure/ cal) and to build camp sites ICT (safety)

Sub-phase 3: (Re)Deployment Start

March 2006

July 2010 (MIDQT March 2010)

Focus

Effectiveness, DTF part of ISAF-troops

RSOI TFU

Done by Rotation Support Team. DTF had no capacity left to support TFU

MIDQT/ RDTF

Infrastructure

No dedicated infrastructure available, no arrangements with US forces at KAF

Dedicated areas to handle personnel, equipment, and stocks both at TK and KAF

ICT

None for logistic support

Complete and operational before RDTF deployment

TOA TFU

1 August 2006

1 August 2010

(Re)Deployment ‘ready’

May 2007 (planned October 2006)

May 2011 (refurbishment end 2012)

became

in

Effectiveness, regaining operational readiness

The lessons learned from DTF and other redeployment operations were successfully implemented during the redeployment of the TFU. The RDTF had a detailed plan, a realistic timetable, and enough time for preparations. They also used well-trained and experienced logisticians and had access to accurate and real-time information to finish the job. As from the start RDTF had a clear view on all the assets to redeploy. A proper and operational ICT architecture combined with the use of barcodes and RFID technology guaranteed total asset visibility during this major operation.

(Re)deployment logistics network

Military logistics in expeditionary operations involves transferring between transportation modes because the theatre of operations is far from the military home base. Afghanistan is 9,000 kilometres away from the Netherlands. Military goods and passengers must transfer from road transport to sea or air at a Sea/Air Port of Embarkation (SPOE/APOE). In theatre, goods and passengers arriving by sea and air transfer back to road transport at a Sea/Air Port of Disembarkation (SPOD/ APOD). Since vehicles and other heavy goods must travel by sea while passengers

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travel by air, the vehicles and their crews must be brought together at a support base before moving on to the operational area (Figure 4.1). The network shown applies to sustainment and redeployment; for deployment Minhad, Geilenkirchem, and Köln-Wahn were not used. The network has as its nodes military units with physical locations, such as stores, warehouses, depots, hubs, A/SPODs, A/SPOEs, and enduser units. The transportation routes connecting these nodes can be represented as arcs (air, road, sea, and conditioned transport). SPOE Eemshaven (Netherlands) and Karachi are linked by sea transport. Karachi and the APOD/SPOD at Kandahar are linked by road transport. Hence, Karachi is a logistics hub where passengers and goods transfer from sea to road transport, or vice versa. Figure 4.1 (Re)deployment logistics network (adapted from Rietjens et al., 2010) NETHERLANDS Supplies

Home base

Clothing Spare parts Lubricants

National warehouses

Vehicles Equipment

TFU vehicles and equipment

STRATEGIC TRANSPORT

Hubs Netherlands

International hubs

AFGHANISTAN Reception area

Area of Operations

Fujairah, UAE Units KAF

Construction material

Food Medical Equipment Ammunition

GP Land Soesterberg

SPOE: Eemshaven

SPOD: Karachi, Pakistan APOD: JSD Kandahar

Engineers

APOE: KLu Cargo Eindhoven

Food Stores

FLB DR

APOD: Minhad, UAE

Medical Stores

units DR

Ammo Stores

LSD TK Airbase Gilze Rijen

F-16 AH-64 Airbase Soesterberg C-130 Airbase Volkel Cougar/Chinook Airbase Leeuwarden

units TK

APOE: Geilenkirchen APOE: Köln-Wahn

Airbase Eindhoven

Air transport Aviation spare parts

LSC Woensdrecht

GP Air Eindhoven

Road transport Sea transport Conditioned transport

Figure 4.1 is a representation of the TFU logistics network in the physical domain (i.e., how the various military units are geographically connected). The military units shown here can also be nodes in two other domains: organizational and information (Alberts and Nissen, 2009). Since they are elements of the Dutch military organization, they would also appear as nodes in the TFU organogram (not shown here). An organogram is a representation of the organizational (or social) domain. Typically, organograms take the form of a hierarchy of superior-subordinate relationships. A hierarchy is a specialized form of network in which arcs are directed, a superior can have multiple subordinates, but each subordinate has exactly one

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superior. And finally, the flow of (formal) information parallels these relationships, with superiors issuing orders to their subordinates (“down” the hierarchy), and subordinates account for their progress in completing these orders by passing situation reports (“up”) to their superior. In addition, there can be informal information flows across the hierarchy (e.g., when one unit synchronizes its activity with another). For example, if a truck leaves Karachi heading for Kandahar, Karachi will send a message to Kandahar saying that the truck has left, what goods it is carrying, and when it is expected to reach Kandahar. Note that the units shown in Figure 4.1 appear in all of these domains. They are located in the physical domain, fulfil a function in the organizational domain, and exchange information in the information domain. In effect, they link different networks – the physical (geographical) network, the organizational network, the telecommunications network, and the information network – to one another (Monsuur et al., 2011). We can extend network theory to coalitions. The agreement to cooperate may or may not be formalized, and membership of the coalition may be fluid. Implicit in the TFU logistics network is a coalition with at its core the Royal Netherlands Army, the Royal Netherlands Navy, and the Royal Netherlands Air Force. Prima facie, the Navy would provide the sea transport, the Air Force would provide the air and conditioned transport, and all three services would provide road transport. In fact, this is supplemented by commercial providers. Some of the sea transport may be provided by shipping companies and some of the air transport by commercial airlines. Some goods may be bought in-theatre (e.g., fuel from oil multinationals, and food from local producers). To further analyze the logistics network in Mission Uruzgan, we dissect five phases.

Phases of Expeditionary Operations Expeditionary operations are conducted according to a generic set of five phases (NATO, 2007). These phases are: 1. Mission Planning: A coordinated staff process used by a commander to determine the best method of accomplishing assigned tasks and to direct the action necessary to accomplish the mission. 2. Deployment: The relocation of forces to desired areas of operations and consists the sub phases planning, pre-deployment activities, and actual deployment itself. 3. Sustainment: The process to maintain the necessary level of combat power for the duration required to achieve its objectives. 4. Redeployment: The return of forces, materiel and stocks to home or demobilization stations for refurbishment and consists the sub phases planning, pre-redeployment activities, and actual redeployment itself.

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5. Refurbishment: A (maintenance) program to restore equipment-readiness so it can be returned to the units or prepared for upcoming missions. Figure 4.2 depicts these five phases and links them to combat readiness and mission logistics intensity. RSOI refers to Reception, Staging, Onward movement, and Integration; TOA refers to the transfer of authority demarcating the transition from the deployment to the sustainment phase. During the phases, combat readiness and mission logistics intensity vary as sketched in Figure 4.2 for Mission Uruzgan. During the deployment phase, political and military strategic pressure may increase toward the TOA to start the actual mission while logistics intensity is high. With redeployment, such immediate operational pressure is absent since combat readiness is low (see vertical arrows in light grey). Figure 4.2 TFU: combat readiness and mission logistics intensity

High

High RSOI

TOA

Combat readiness (solid line)

Mission logistics intensity (dotted line)

Low

Low Phase 1 Mission Planning

Phase 2 Deployment

Phase 3 Sustainment

Phase 4 Redeployment

Phase 5 Refurbishment

Mission Uruzgan

Mission Planning Phase

A task force cannot be sent on an expeditionary mission before the process of formation and mission specific training has been executed. Units are selected from their peacetime organization, added to the task force, and prepared (trained and additionally equipped) for the upcoming mission. Logistics elements are added to the task force as specifically needed by the mission, and must be kept as limited as possible. To conduct a deployment operation successfully it is essential to have a proper plan. A number of factors must be considered in the planning process that impacts the RSOI activities. In RSOI units, personnel, equipment, and stocks transition from arrival at Ports of Debarkation to their final destination. These factors include: area and regional security, local economic situation, geography (distance, weather and terrain conditions), infrastructure, environmental, intra-theatre transport capabilities, logistic facilities, condition of the Lines of Communication (LOCs, i.e. all the land, water, and air routes that connect an operating military force with one or more

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bases of operations, and along which supplies and reinforcements move), and the availability and degree of Host Nation Support. For Uruzgan, a DTF was formed and trained for preparing the deployment phase February-May 2006. Between May 2006 and August 2006 logistics intensity sharply increased as camps in Afghanistan were constructed and stocks were built up. The primary objective of the planning phase is to provide an accurate plan and a realistic timeline to move personnel, equipment, and stocks from their home base to the assigned area of operations.

Deployment Phase

The deployment process can be broken down into a logical sequence of elements required to move forces into the theatre or area of operations: (1) deployment planning; (2) pre-deployment activities, (3) movement to different ports of embarkation and transport by sea or air to ports of debarkation; and (4) reception, staging, onward movement and integration to operational sites. The preparation for movement to the different ports depends on the chosen mode of transport. The choice for a specific mode of transport depends on the agreed timescale for being fully operational capable (FOC). This milestone is achieved when organizational units involved have received the resources they need for their mission and are able to use and maintain them. The deployment of a task force is normally executed by a tailored deployment support organization, known as the Deployment Task Force (DTF). The loading operation as part of the predeployment activities proceeds along one of two general lines: combat loading (based on effectiveness) or administrative loading (based on efficiency). Generally, the choice is determined by the intended destination. If the deploying task force is moving into a theatre of operations where it may need to engage in combat on arrival, then it must load in a sequence that allows it to exit the transports ready to fight. By contrast, the loading sequence can be geared for rapid unloading of coherent combat power, but this sacrifices the efficient use of available transport space and weight capacity. Where the destination is a staging area or support base, administrative loading makes efficient use of the space/weight capacities of the airlift or sealift. Unit integrity is sacrificed to gain efficiency advantages since unit and personnel will marry up with their equipment in the staging area or support base. Note that during this phase pressure is high – especially given the expeditionary nature of the operation – on both operations and logistics to get ready for the TOA. The arrows show this difference, in contrast to the redeployment phase. Heavy equipment arrived between May and August 2006 through Kandahar and was transported to Uruzgan. The RSOI started; TFU units replaced DTF units. The deployment phase transgressed into the sustainment phase with TFU personnel flown in. Logistics intensity decreased since most of the effort for the TOA neared completion.

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The primary objective of the deployment phase is to provide personnel, equipment, and materiel when and where required by the JFC concept of operations. The deployment phase is generally a national responsibility.

Sustainment Phase

During the sustainment phase the general focus is to maintain operational tempo or combat power. Therefore, it is necessary to have a continuous flow of consumable supplies (e.g., food, water, ammunition, fuel, and medical supplies). Periodically the forces need replacement of people and equipment (relief in place operations), requiring reverse logistics from the theatre to the home country or other supply bases. Logisticians are responsible for providing everything except the people, although equipping those replacements and moving them to their organizations are logistical tasks. From November 1, 2006, TFU was FOC with matching logistics capability. The sustainment phase lasted until August 1, 2010. The primary objective of the sustainment phase is to maintain operational tempo or combat power in accordance with the JFC concept of operations. In coalitions, the sustainment phase is primarily an international responsibility.

Redeployment Phase

At the end of a mission troops must be prepared for redeployment to their home bases. Redeployment is defined as the return of personnel, equipment, and materiel to home/ demobilization stations for refurbishment (CALL, 2010; US Army, 2007). This is a critical operational event enabled by logistics. Operational employment normally ends with termination or transition of the joint force mission (reversed TOA). Similar to deployment, redeployment operations encompass four phases; these phases are redeployment planning, pre-redeployment activities, redeployment (e.g., movement) and ‘reuniting’, RSOI, at home base. Redeployments do not necessarily mirror deployment operations. Redeployment scenarios vary widely based on available resources, the force structure of the deploying units, and the locations involved. Forces and materiel will often not redeploy in the order used for deployment because of continuing operational missions or transition requirements. Additional emphasis will also be placed on base closure or transfer. Force protection must be an integral part of redeployment planning. Hub and spoke is a simple and effective concept for shrinking the force protection footprint while simultaneously closing and transferring bases and outposts (CALL, 2010). Officially the redeployment started August 1, 2010 when the Netherlands handed over the command of Uruzgan to the US. Yet starting in May 2010 a MIDQT team was already inserted, and from mid June 2010 onwards the RDTF started preparing the redeployment. Logistics intensity increased to enable the redeployment and support the MIDQT and RDTF. Redeployment was finished April 1, 2011.

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The primary objective of the redeployment phase is to move personnel, equipment, and stocks back to their home bases or national warehouses. The redeployment phase is a national responsibility.

Refurbishment Phase

Reuniting unit personnel and their equipment at their home station triggers the start of the lifecycle management process (reset/train, ready, and available). The equipping process for refurbishment begins in theatre and may continue right up to the next deployment. Refurbishment is a cyclical process that restores previously deployed units to levels of personnel and equipment readiness that permit resumption of training for future missions. The Refurbishment timeline is based on the deployed unit’s return date. The primary objective of the refurbishment phase is to regain operational readiness and availability in accordance with the directives of the Defence Force Generation Plan. As highlighted, each of these phases has its own logistic focus or milestone to achieve. It is therefore important to manage the phase transitions in a proper way.

Reflection: phase Transition Management

In commercial and military logistics, phase transition management increasingly receives attention and becomes more professionalized in the context of cycle management. A phase refers not primarily to a specific period of time or date, but to a bundle of services that are logically defined in an overall performance cycle. This phase definition is based on shifts in responsibility, functional emphasis, or geography. It is aimed at building up value attached to a concluding milestone (e.g., FOC), or at creating value in the sense of maintaining a stable desired status quo during a particular phase (e.g., sustainment). Thinking in terms of phases is useful because it breaks down performance cycles in manageable chunks. Handovers between those responsible for each phase can be defined and phase performance can be monitored. In military operations, phase transitions are sharply defined to demarcate TOA. Phase transition management occurs at two levels. First, inter-phase transitions involving diverse organizations, organizational levels and process aspects (people, technology, structures, knowledge) (Tiwari, 2010). Challenges associated with the first level include managing handoffs, knowledge transfer, and mutual knowledge across phases if different groups are involved in these phases (Cramton, 2001). Second, phases and their transitions must be managed from a cycle perspective. This refers to the strategic focus, tied to for instance the expeditionary operation as a whole. Specific challenges include constraints encountered during an operational phase that jeopardize subsequent phases and cycle performance (e.g., combat readiness). Conversely, since these operations occur in a complex and dynamic environment, changes are likely (e.g., budget, expected FOC or redeployment date). These affect current and upcoming phases and their relationships. Staying in con-

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trol means that logistics professionals at phase and cycle levels anticipate risks and translate these into scenarios and adaptive routines.

Analysis: Efficient or Effective Logistics Strategy? The logistics strategy across and within phases of expeditionary operations can vary and can be characterized in terms of efficiency or effectiveness. Efficiency-oriented logistics minimizes resources usage (people, equipment, fuel) for a given goal. For long-distance logistics, the use of transportation capacity is optimized, requiring the decomposition of military resources. For example, howitzers are very heavy and have to travel by sea, while their ammunition must travel by air for safety reasons. Howitzers and ammunition must meet up after disembarkation before they can be operationally effective. Effectiveness-oriented logistics, on the other hand, refers to achievement of the (military operational) goals in terms of the capability of projecting military power at a specific location and time. This ultimately serves the political goals framing an operation. Goal parameters may change depending on political, environmental, and military drivers. Depending on the strategic orientation, the logistics organization structures its operations and services in a specific manner. It shapes its comfort zone and reduces flexibility. When the orientation has to change beyond common margins, the comfort zone and balance are disrupted, reducing the level of performance. During redeployment of Mission Uruzgan, rather than optimizing use of scarce capacity for strategic transport as was done during the deployment phase (efficiency), the organization learned to proactively focus on enabling the subsequent phase of operations (effectiveness). At the same time, modern logistics increasingly assumes that efficiency and effectiveness can be achieved together. Military logistics is starting to explore these new strategic directions (Hammond, 2008). This requires extended capabilities at the organizational and supply network level that are not yet fully available for current expeditionary operations. First, ongoing strategic sensing is required to anticipate and align with (shifts of ) political and operational goals. Second, meta-routines are required to adjust the logistics organization and supply chain in response to emerging challenges. They regulate change (Lewin and Massini, 2004) and refer to recurring processes for selecting, changing, and coordinating organizational practices that contribute to value creation in a specific and recurrent manner (Adler et al., 1999). Third, logistics technologies and service (elements) must be modular and multi-purpose to enable flexible recombination (Gomes and Dahab, 2010). And fourth, IT must be used throughout the supply chain to provide transparency for monitoring, forecasting, and developing dynamic scenarios (Amit and Zott, 2001). These extended capabilities demand matching expertise of individuals across organizational levels, and routines for coordinating and integrating expertise (Majchrzak et al., 2007). They positively influence logistics performance by:

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–– Enabling a common logistic picture (CLP) in accordance with a common operational picture. The CLP – consistently structured at all levels (Bacharach, Bamberger and Sonnenstuhl, 1996; Bigley and Roberts, 2001) – includes in-transit stocks and supplies and improves effectiveness and response flexibility. –– Enhancing unity of effort within the logistic chain at all levels based on a CLP, thereby improving efficiency. –– Fostering pro-activeness (instead of re-activeness) within the logistic chain; this improves effectiveness and response flexibility. With an expeditionary operation such as Mission Uruzgan, changes were likely, yet difficult to process in an effective and (reasonably) efficient manner. During the deployment phase for Uruzgan the Dutch military was challenged to accommodate to changes in terms of the type of mission and expected date for achieving FOC.

Military Logistics in Context: Towards Dynamic Alignment Is there still a difference between political and military environments in today’s conflicts? Does the Comprehensive Approach – with its long-term focus on enabling societal functioning (US Army, 2008) – not mean that political objectives are integrated in the campaign plan of the joint force commander (Crawshaw, 2007)? The comprehensive approach to campaigns involves the integrated employment of multiple agencies in concert with land forces to conduct operations in addressing all the sources of conflict, and secondly a holistic assessment of the effects of our operations in a wide array of realms (including, Political, Military, Economic, Social, Infrastructure, and Information: PMESII) (NATO, 2009). There is no longer a clear distinction between the political objectives and the military levels of operations. Missions are shaped across these levels, including both military operations and logistics. Figure 4.3 shows horizontal (at the same level) and vertical alignment challenges for political, military and military logistics professionals. The light grey ‘boomerang’ illustrates the important connections between the various strategic levels (strategic alignment), and the right hand column of military logistics professionals (vertical logistics alignment). In practice, there is often an overlap between at least two levels. Not all political objectives are attainable in military terms, nor are the armed forces the only instrument of power available to the politicians. It may well be that other instruments – such as diplomacy, economic sanctions, or development – are more appropriate for realizing these objectives (MoD, 1999). Nevertheless, military logistics may play a role in supporting these other instruments. For example, military logistics may be needed to get the Provincial Reconstruction Team’s equipment there and back.

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Figure 4.3 Horizontal and vertical alignment in military operations Connected environments Political environment

Operational environment

Logistics environment

Strategic alignment Strategic level

Political logic

Military operations strategic logic

Military logistics strategic logic

Operational alignment Operational level

Military operations operational logic

Military logistics operational logic

Tactical alignment Tactical level

Military operations tactical logic

Military logistics tactical logic

Technical alignment Military operations technical logic

Technical level

Political professionals

Military professionals

Military logistics technical logic Military logistics Professionals

In expeditionary operations actions of units or even individuals operating at the tactical level may have strategic implications. Commanders should be mindful of the fact that in certain circumstances the politicians will want to exert influence down to the tactical or even technical level. This affects military logistics professionals who need to meet strategic demands. Hence, they must invest in common ground to connect groups with various logics as depicted in Figure 4.3. Logics refer to the modus operandi of professionals contributing from (1) a political, military or military logistics perspective at (2) strategic, operational, tactical or technical levels to expeditionary operations (Bacharach, et al., 1996). Increasingly, professionals function in partially overlapping environments. While vertical alignment (within the three columns) occurs following the chain of command, they also align horizontally at strategic, operational, tactical and technical levels (Avison et al., 2004). The current global security environment represents a new set of challenges and threats which change the way military leaders plan and execute operations. Military leaders must maintain simultaneous awareness through information technology, integration, and accommodation at all levels of the operation (Krulak, 1999). The joint force mentality – combining contributions of different military services – and comprehensive approach – working with non-military organizations – are crucial to success in today’s complex and uncertain security environment. Logistics planners must provide planning and support that is focused on the commander’s operational

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intent and that provides a common logistics picture for everyone on the battlefield. Logistics-Operations alignment (i.e., middle and right-hand column in Figure 4.3) requires, nowadays more than ever, integrating logistics into the early stages of the planning processes of the force commander. Cohesive support units integrated into a network-centric information-sharing process can provide a common operating picture for the commander and an early awareness and warning of consumption rates on the battlefield.

Lessons learned and conclusion Mission Uruzgan represented a major logistical challenge, in particular during deployment. The transition from deployment to sustainment (i.e. operations) was moved forward compared to the original planning. This strategic-level decision disrupted lower-level logistics aimed at efficiently transporting personnel and goods from The Netherlands to Afghanistan. The effect was exacerbated due to a lack of logistics expertise and RFID-based transparency. Consequently, strategic lateral alignment and vertical logistics alignment remained dynamic and at times chaotic. The organization mode shifted from a planned approach to an ad hoc improvisational approach on the operational and logistics side. It appeared very difficult to regain control. Specific lessons learned from that phase include: (1) logistic preparations must be properly planned and they need time for execution; (2) without discipline a logistics system will never be balanced; (3) logistics personnel need to be well trained and experienced; (4) need for suitable technology, such as barcodes and RFID for tracking and tracing; and (5) information management is the key for logistic success and always needs some human involvement. In contrast, the redeployment phase lacked the pressure of a political and operational deadline. Hence, alignment was more static, and logistics could be optimized for efficient use of transportation modes. Military professionals could gradually dismantle the Dutch presence in Afghanistan. The Dutch motto for the redeployment was “beheerd en beheerst” (i.e., “well managed and controlled”). Working with long planning horizons, they could prepare, invest, and train their resources. Getting there and back is a major challenge associated with expeditionary operations. Increasingly, military logistics will become information-led, customer oriented, and dynamically aligned with operations wherever these may lead. The pressure of deployment is expected to challenge politicians, military professionals, and military logistics professionals the most.

References Adler, P.S., Goldoftas, B. and Levine, D.I. (1999) Flexibility versus Efficiency? A Case Study of Model Changeovers in the Toyota Production System. Organization Science 10(1), 43-68.

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Alberts, D.S. and Nissen, M.E. (2009) Toward Harmonizing Command and Control with Organization and Management Theory. C2 Journal 3(2), 1-59. Amit, R. and Zott, C. (2001) Value Creation in E-business. Strategic Management Journal 22(6/7), 493-520. Avison, D., Jones, J., Powell, P. and Wilson, D. (2004) Using and Validating the Strategic Alignment Model. Strategic Information Systems 13(3), 223-246. Bacharach, S.B., Bamberger, P. and Sonnenstuhl, W. (1996) The Organizational Transformation Process: The Micropolitics of Dissonance Reduction and the Alignment of Logics of Action. Administrative Science Quarterly 41, 477-506. Bigley, G.A. and Roberts, K.H. (2001) The Incident Command System: High Reliability Organizing for Complex and Volatile Task Environments. Academy of Management Journal 44(6), 1281-1299. CALL (2010) Responsible Drawdown: Brigade Combat Team Redeployment Handbook (CALL Publication No. 10-32). Center for Army Lessons Learned (CALL), Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. Cramton, C.D. (2001) The Mutual Knowledge Problem and its Consequences for Dispersed Collaboration. Organization Science 12(3), 346-371. Crawshaw, E. (2007). A Comprehensive Approach to Modern Conflict: Afghanistan and Beyond. CONNECTIONS: The Quarterly Journal 6(2), 1-66. Gomes, P.J. and Dahab, S. (2010) Bundling Resources across Supply Chain Dyads: The Role of Modularity and Coordination Capabilities. Journal of Operations and Production Management 30(1), 57-74. Hammond, M.F. (2008) Sense and Respond: Military Logistics in a Global Security Environment. Army Logistician 40(5). Krulak, C.C. (1999) The Strategic Corporal: Leadership in the Three Block War. Marine Corps Gazette( January). Lewin, A.Y. and Massini, S. (2004). Knowledge Creation and Organizational Capabilities of Innovating and Imitating Firms. In: Tsoukas, H. and Mylonopoulos, N. (eds.) Organizations as Knowledge Systems: Knowledge, Learning, and Dynamic Capabilities. Houndmills, UK: Palgrave. Majchrzak, A., Jarvenpaa, S.L. and Hollingshead, A.B. (2007) Coordinating Expertise Among Emergent Groups Responding to Disasters. Organization Science 18(1), 147-161. MoD (1999) Army Doctrine Publication III Peace Operations. The Hague: Royal Netherlands Army. MoD (2005) Netherlands Defence Doctrine. The Hague: Netherlands Defence Staff. Monsuur, H., Grant, T.J. and Janssen, R. (2011) Network Topology of Military C2 Systems: Where Axioms and Actions Meet. In: Bauer, J.P. (ed.) Computer Science Research & Technology, Volume 3. Hauppauge, NY: Nova Science Publishers. NATO (1999) AJP 4 Allied Joint Logistic Doctrine. Brussels: NATO. NATO (2007) NATO Logistics Handbook. Brussels: NATO. NATO (2009) AJP 3.2 Allied Joint Doctrine for Land Operations. Brussels: NATO.

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Rietjens, S., Kampen, T., and Grant, T.J. (2010) Logistics Planning and Control: Lessons Learned in Afghanistan. In: Soeters, J., Van Fenema, P.C. and Beeres, R. (eds.) Managing Military Organizations: Theory and Practice. London: Routledge. Sinno, A.H. (2008) Organizations at War in Afghanistan and Beyond. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Tiwari, V. (2010) Transition Process and Performance in IT Outsourcing. (ERIM PhD Series in Management). Rotterdam: Erasmus University. US Army (2007) JP 3-35, Deployment and Redeployment Operations. Washington DC: Headquarters of the Army. US Army (2008) FM 3-07 Stability Operations. Washington DC: Headquarters of the Army.

Part II Security

5

Controlling the use of force Legal regimes Paul Ducheine and Eric Pouw

Introduction Legitimacy is vital to all military operations. As we introduced in Chapter 3, the legal component of legitimacy (and the legal framework) can be divided in two parts. First, the legal basis for a specific operation. Second, the rules that are applicable during the conduct of operations (Ducheine, 2008). The latter is referred to as legal regimes, the central theme in this chapter. Both parts are related with the social component of legitimacy: moral and popular support. Excessive use of force or violations of the applicable rules during the conduct of operations can have an injurious effect on public support for the operation as well. This support – both in troop contributing nations, as well as in the area of operations – is indispensable for the success of any (peace support) mission. Therefore, it is of utmost importance for armed forces to control the use of force during these missions, and to apply and respect the rules by which this is done. This chapter presents the primary legal regimes and techniques by which the use of force in the context of military operations by ISAF is regulated (Ducheine and Pouw, 2010). It deals with the techniques used to control and legalize the force used to execute ISAF’s mandate, mission and tasks (as given and delineated by the UN Security Council and ISAF’s superior authorities). First and second, the analysis covers two international legal regimes applicable to ISAF’s use of force: human rights law and the law of armed conflict. Thirdly, rules of engagement are introduced. Fourthly, other (supplementary) mechanisms such as tactical directives, standard operation procedures and instructions and special instructions (for air forces) are described. For practical reasons of economics, the four of them will be referred to as legal regimes. The relevance of a proper delineation of the applicable legal regimes – including its content – is vital to the individual soldier, to commanders on all levels, and to the political decision makers and leaders. In most of the following regimes, the soldier, the commander, the politicians and/or the state itself, may be held responsible when the regime has been violated.

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Human Rights Law The first controlling regime for the use of force is international human rights (HR). HR obligations of states ‘shape’ the conduct of operations by its armed forces, even when they operate abroad like in Afghanistan. The applicability of HR to these extraterritorial military operations is a highly debated topic, and within the context of multinational operations like ISAF, the problems are even more complex. The main concern of states involved in operations in Afghanistan involves the question whether and if so, to what degree, they are bound by the obligation to respect or ensure the human rights of individuals affected by their military operations. If it can be established that states had an obligation to do so, they may be held responsible for violations of human rights. Amongst states and legal scholars, the discussion concentrates around two questions. The first is whether human rights obligations are applicable outside the territory of a troop contributing nation (Gondek, 2009). In other words, should human rights be guaranteed abroad during missions? This issue refers to the discussion whether human rights law governs ISAF’s detention operations and the use of force in Afghanistan (Dennis, 2005). Once the first question is answered affirmatively, the second is how the human rights should be guaranteed when operating abroad. The latter issue denotes issues covering the procedures used during detention operations, such as interviewing techniques, rights of detainees, the permissibility of forceful interrogation techniques (such as water boarding) or the definition of ‘humane treatment’ to which detainees are entitled. Before analyzing the scope of application, and the applicable rules in the context of operations in Afghanistan, we will reiterate the purpose of the HR.

Purpose

Before embarking on the two questions that are addressed below, it is useful and necessary to pay attention to the origin and raison d’être of international human rights obligations. International human rights were originally devised ‘to protect the individual against the arbitrary exercise of power by the authorities of the territorial state’ (Coomans and Kamminga, 2004: 1). With respect to guaranteeing human rights, states are double-hatted. They have to protect the individual against violations of human rights, while at the same time they themselves bear responsibility for violations, since they are committed by their own organs (Ducheine, 2008: 381). The first question during extraterritorial operations is whether armed forces – as state organs – are supposed (or even obliged) to respect and ensure human rights whilst operating in a violent, insecure and often hostile environment abroad (Ducheine, 2008: 380-466). This question implies that we first determine the threshold for applicability, which concentrates on the question whether a person is ‘within the jurisdiction’ of a state.

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Scope of Application

After the proclamation of the Universal Declaration on Human Rights by the General Assembly of the United Nations (1948) numerous regional and global treaties have been concluded, such as the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR, 1950) and the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR, 1966). State parties to these treaties are bound to respect and ensure the rights and privileges as laid down in these treaties to every individual who can be found within their jurisdiction. Concentrating on the ECHR, Article 1 reads: The High Contracting Parties shall secure to everyone within their jurisdiction the rights and freedoms defined in […] this Convention.

The logic of this is that state parties are only capable of guaranteeing the human rights obligations when they exercise adequate or effective power over persons (in a certain territory). International human rights obligations are, apart from a few exemptions, primarily restricted to the territory of the state party involved. Increasingly however, extra-territorial behaviour of states (e.g., when participating in multinational operations like ISAF) may affect an individual’s human rights (Lorenz, 2005). First of all, extraterritorial acts of state agents may bring persons within the jurisdiction of the state insofar they exercise authority over such persons. This may be a source of jurisdiction in the case of arrest, detention, or abduction. We will refer to this source of extra-territorial jurisdiction as State Agent Authority (SAA). Secondly, in a number of situations a state may exercise effective control over an area outside its own territory, for instance as a result of military occupation, or when exercising public powers with the consent of the local government or authorization of the UN Security Council. We will refer to this source as Effective Control of an Area (ECA). In contrast to the situations of jurisdiction falling under SAA or ECA, it still remains unclear whether ‘direct action’ (e.g., targeting, attacks or exchange of fire) in itself is sufficient to generate jurisdiction. When jurisdiction through either SAA or ECA has been established, human rights treaties become applicable. During periods of SAA (e.g., detention, arrest, abduction) or ECA (e.g., occupation of a UN mandated peacekeeping operation), human rights obligations will be applicable, and, as a consequence, numerous human rights obligations may influence the conduct of operations in general, and the use of force in particular. For example, during ISAF’s mission, the rules related to detention, and arguably also those concerned with the use of force have all, to some degree, been influenced by the human rights regime.

Human Rights Rules

Once jurisdiction can be established, human rights law has an impact on various aspects of military operations. Even when jurisdiction cannot be established, human rights can influence the use of force and the conduct of operations by means

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of other supplementary mechanisms, such as rules of engagement, standard operation procedures or tactical directives. We will limit ourselves to the right to life, the right to liberty and the right of physical integrity with respect to inhabitants of area of operations abroad. Among the clearest examples of the controlling effects of the HR regime are ISAF’s rules concerning ‘detention of non-ISAF personnel’ (Roberts, 2006: 443): Commanders at all levels are to ensure that detention operations are conducted in accordance with applicable international law and human rights standards and that all detainees are treated with respect and dignity at all times. The strategic benefits of conducting detention operations in a humanitarian manner are significant. Detention operations that fail to meet the high standards mandated herein will inevitably have a detrimental impact on the ISAF Mission.

These and other rules can also be found in the Military Technical Agreement (MTA) Between the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) and the Interim Administration of Afghanistan (‘Interim Administration’), of January 4, 2002. Its provision that detainees may – in principle – not be detained for more than 96 hours demonstrates that standards derived from the European Court of Human Rights’ jurisprudence are applicable to ISAF-detentions, or at least, have been used (albeit arguably more as a matter of policy than of law) (Nauta, 2008: 178). In addition to the MTA, Canada, Denmark, the Netherlands, Norway and the UK have concluded so-called Memoranda of Understanding (MOUs) with the Afghan government concerning the treatment by, and transfer of detainees to the Afghan authorities (Amnesty International, 2007: 21). Even after the transfer of detainees, the Dutch Foreign Office keeps track of the detainees transferred to the Afghan authorities. Secondly, the right to life is protected by the prohibition of arbitrary killing. However, individual self-defence and lawful acts of war resulting in the loss of life are permitted. Within the system of the ECHR however, an independent investigation has to be launched once individuals die as a result of acts of the armed forces (e.g., ISAF). Finally, when interviewing detainees, European ISAF forces are restricted in their interviewing techniques as a result of jurisprudence based on the ECHR. The European Court ruled that the combination of sleep and food deprivation, stress positions (such as wall standing), white noise, and blindfolding (‘hooding’) are forbidden since they can result in inhumane treatment and/or violations of the physical integrity. Regardless whether human rights treaties are formally applicable or not, some of its rules are laid down in rules of engagement, standard operating procedures and other directives and applied for policy or operational reasons. Although sometimes argued otherwise, human rights law is relevant to all military operations, even when the operations take place within, or amount to, an armed conflict which is primarily

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governed by international humanitarian law of the law of armed conflict, which will be dealt with below.

The Law of Armed Conflict Contrary to Cicero’s ‘silent enim leges inter arma’, even warfare has constraints and limitations, as is rightfully expressed through ‘et inter arma vigent leges’. This motto, used by the Netherlands Army Legal Service, expresses the fact that warfare has long been regulated by rules of conduct. The Law of Armed Conflict (LOAC) – also referred to as international humanitarian law – is the primacy regime applicable to operations taking place during, or amounting to armed conflict. Once an armed conflict exists, LOAC automatically applies to all parties in the conflict – irrespective of their status. However, like HR, LOAC is also applied for policy reasons outside the scope of armed conflict (Ducheine, 2009). After having set the floor by reiterating the purpose of the LOAC, we analyze the scope of application, and the applicable rules in the context of operations in Afghanistan.

Purpose

So, what does LOAC regulate? LOAC has – of old – tried to find a balance between the requirements and the reality of the phenomenon of war itself, on the one hand, and the principle of humanity, on the other. This is expressed in its dual purpose (Kalshoven and Zegveld, 2001: 12): 1. the protection of those who do not (any longer) take part in the hostilities (especially civilians, but also combatants who have been put hors de combat); 2. regulating the allowed means and methods of warfare. In other words, the LOAC has an internal balance between the core principles of military necessity and humanity (Dinstein, 2004: 16). The main difference with HR, which we addressed earlier, is that HR is principally designed to protect individuals from the use of arbitrary state power. Thus, with respect to the use of force, or the detention of individuals, states are prohibited to deprive a person of the right to life (by killing) or his liberty (by detention). Only in very exceptional situations, and if so, only under strict conditions, may a person be killed or detained. It follows, in the case of the right to life, for example, that a premeditated killing is, in principle, not lawful under HR. In contrast, LOAC – in light of the reality of war, and taking into account the sovereignty-based principle of military necessity – allows for the premeditated killing of individuals, provided it takes cognizance of the humanitarian constraints built into LOAC. The other LOAC principles of distinction, proportional-

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ity and chivalry follow from military necessity and humanity, but must be viewed all as interlinked (Ducheine and Pouw, 2010: 72). Before commanders make use of the LOAC to control the use of force and the conduct of operations, two issues have to be solved. First of all, does the situation amount to an armed conflict, and if so, secondly, is it an international or a noninternational armed conflict. The latter issue is vital since it implies a designation of the part of LOAC that applies as the regime governing hostilities; parts that differ significantly in quantity and quality. We analyze both issues below.

Scope of Application

The principal issue relates to the status of the conflict (e.g., the expression if violence between the (state organs of the) Government of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan (GIRoA) and the armed insurgency, the so-called OMF: Opposing Militant Forces) (Ducheine, 2009). The status of this conflict is not undisputed, although a number of States (e.g., Germany) and international organizations (most notably the UN and the ICRC) by now have qualified it as an (non-international) armed conflict, in which ISAF aligns with the GIRoA. Other states are ambivalent as to the status of the conflict. In order to delineate the constraints applicable to ISAF’s use of force, it is vital to analyze whether LOAC is applicable to Afghanistan and ISAF’s operations. In other words, whether the violent state of affairs in Afghanistan qualifies as an armed conflict. The primary question here is: what is an armed conflict? This concept is not defined in the law of war treaties. The following definition can be derived from the jurisprudence of international criminal tribunals: An armed conflict exists whenever there is a resort to armed force [1] between States or [2] protracted armed violence between [a] governmental authorities and organized armed groups or [b] between such groups within a state.

The opinion of the parties involved about the existence of an armed conflict is not decisive: an armed conflict is a factual situation (e.g., ‘war’). For an armed conflict, two cumulative conditions must be met. There must be: (1) actual hostilities of certain intensity, consisting of a number of related armed incidents, which (2) are carried out by opposing organized armed groups capable of undertaking military operations over longer periods of time. Below, these general conditions of the intensity of the violence and the degree of organization of the armed group are considered briefly in the context of Afghanistan, to determine the existence of an armed conflict. With regard to the degree of organization or the armed forces, there is little doubt that the regular armed forces in the conflict, such as those of the ISAF members and the Afghan National Army (ANA) meet the criteria for organization (Ducheine, 2009). However, this is less obvious in relation to irregular armed groups. For irregular armed groups, e.g. the OMF, this may be established with the

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help of a number of indicative criteria as set by the Yugoslavia Tribunal (ICTY) in the Haradinaj case (ICTY, 3-4-2008, IT-04-84-T, § 60): As for armed groups, Trial Chambers have relied on several indicative factors, none of which are, in themselves, essential to establish whether the “organization” criterion is fulfilled. Such indicative factors include the existence of a command structure and disciplinary rules and mechanisms within the group; the existence of a headquarters; the fact that the group controls a certain territory; the ability of the group to gain access to weapons, other military equipment, recruits and military training; its ability to plan, coordinate and carry out military operations, including troop movements and logistics; its ability to define a unified military strategy and use military tactics; and its ability to speak with one voice and negotiate and conclude agreements such as cease-fire or peace accords.

In a detailed analysis of the Afghan situation between 2005-2009, it was concluded that the OMF in general, and the Taliban in particular, are an organized armed group, which appear to have the capability to carry out coordinated operations over an extended period of time against the Afghan government, government troops and foreign troops, including ISAF (Ducheine, 2009: 296). The second requirement for the existence of an armed conflict concerns the intensity of the fighting. Jurisprudence shows that, contrary to situations of internal crime and unrest that are characterized by ‘isolated and sporadic acts of violence (disorganized and short-lived)’, the use of force in (an internal) armed conflict ought to be ‘protracted’, distinguishing it from incidental (internal) armed violence. Intensity can be assessed by means of several indicative criteria, as was concluded in the earlier mentioned Haradinaj case (ICTY, 3-4-2008, IT-04-84-T, § 49): These indicative factors include the number, duration and intensity of individual confrontations; the type of weapons and other military equipment used; the number and calibre of munitions fired; the number of persons and type of forces partaking in the fighting; the number of casualties; the extent of material destruction; and the number of civilians fleeing combat zones. The involvement of the UN Security Council may also be a reflection of the intensity of a conflict.

In the aforementioned analysis, the conclusion was drawn that the hostilities or the intensity of the armed violence in Afghanistan at least reaches the threshold of a (non-international) armed conflict in terms of intensity. A fairly clear pattern of mutual factual hostilities was discerned. In sum, in Afghanistan there appears to be an armed conflict between the Afghan government – supported by ISAF – on the one side, and OMF, or in any case the Taliban, on the other. This conclusion is in line with that of international observers and reporters, among whom the UNSG, who in November 2008 referred to ‘the ongoing armed conflict in Afghanistan’ (UN Doc. S/2008/695). In its annual report

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over 2007 the ICRC concluded that ‘[t]he armed conflict in Afghanistan spread considerably in 2007’ (ICRC, 2008: 181). HRW stated that, since 2002, ‘hostilities have comprised a non-international armed conflict in which Afghan government forces and US, NATO, and other coalition partners are fighting against anti-government forces’ (Human Rights Watch, 2007: 79). The German Foreign Minister Dr. Guido Westerwelle explicitly referred to the abovementioned two tier threshold test and stated in Parliament (DEU Bundesregierung, 2010): The intensity of the hostilities in combination with the existence of an organisation of armed groups, leads to the conclusion that the situation in which ISAF is operating, in the North also qualifies as an armed conflict within the terms of LOAC. Whether we like that politically or not, such is the case. Whether we call it an armed conflict or otherwise, reality does compel us to accept a situation of an armed conflict. We are obliged to those who are deployed in this dangerous situation area, to qualify the situation as it is.

The conclusion that the hostilities between Afghan Security Forces supported by ISAF on the one hand, and Opposing Militant Forces on the other hand, qualify as an armed conflict, implies that the LOAC is applicable to the operations of ISAF.

LOAC Rules

The follow-up question relates to the part of LOAC that is applicable to this type of conflict. Therefore, it is necessary to identify whether an international or a noninternational armed conflict exists. Since the armed conflict does not concern a conflict between states, it disqualifies as an international armed conflict (IAC). By definition, it thus should be characterized as a so-called non-international armed conflict (NIAC), to which Common Article 3 to the Geneva Conventions is applicable. Since Afghanistan only ratified the Second Protocol Additional to the Geneva Conventions, which specifically deals with conflicts of a non-international character, in 2009, this Common Article 3 is the core of treaty law applicable to the hostilities before that date. This small portion of treaty law is complemented with a large component of so-called customary law, related to non-international armed conflicts. Part and parcel of this customary law applicable to the Afghan NIAC are the five principles of LOAC: military necessity, humanity, distinction, proportionality and chivalry. Other rules of a customary nature have been identified in jurisprudence by international criminal tribunals, and by the ICRC. The latter concluded its comprehensive research into customary rules of war in 2005 (Henckaerts and Doswald-Beck, 2005). Although controversy exists as to its research methods, a number or customary rules are beyond dispute (Dinstein, 2006). Some of these rules elaborate on specific principles (e.g., the definition of a military target related to the principle of distinction). Others relate to humanity (e.g., the protection of civilians from hostilities, in particular from indiscriminate attacks; the protection of civilian objects, in

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particular cultural property; or the protection of all those who do not (or no longer) take active part in hostilities). Certain means and methods of warfare (e.g., indiscriminate attacks, attacks that result in excessive collateral damage) are also ruled out. The combination of common article 3 to the Geneva Conventions, the principles of LOAC and the customary rules of law, delineate and shape the conduct of hostilities and the use of force applied by ISAF in its operations in Afghanistan. At times, allegations that LOAC has been violated by ISAF forces can be heard. Quite interestingly, however, no single case has been brought to a Dutch court yet. Although the Public Prosecutor had to oversee more than a thousand cases in which the use of force by Netherlands forces was accounted for, no case was brought to trial (Ducheine, 2009). With respect to the battle of Chora (2007), the Public Prosecutor, after one year of research, explicitly concluded that during the hostilities, ‘force had been used within the constraints of LOAC and the ROE’ (Openbaar Ministerie, 2007).

Rules of Engagement

Besides Human Rights and the LOAC, the use of force in modern military operations (like ISAF) is regulated by so-called Rules of Engagement (ROE). ROE are defined as ‘orders or directives that are intended to ensure commanders and their subordinates use only such force or other measures as are necessary, appropriate and authorized by higher command’ (Gill and Fleck, 2010: 586). ROE are a crucial instrument for commanders to direct and control the use of force during operations. ROE result from three sources: operational, legal and political. Within the existing legal framework of HR, LOAC, but also of national and international penal or disciplinary codes, force is permitted to a certain extent. Even during the war, the use of force is generally constrained through LOAC (and HR). Lawful use of force is, however, further restricted for operational (or strategic) and for policy reasons. Thus, a prima facie legitimate military objective (‘military target’), that is attacked under the LOAC, will not be targeted if operational imperatives requires this, for instance if the target is needed for follow-on operations. In the same way, political imperatives may restrict the available and legitimate set of means of warfare, for instance as a result of public opinion or diplomatic positions. In sum, promulgated ROE reflect the use of force that is legally, operationally and politically acceptable. In any way, ROE may never supersede conduct that is legally permissible. ROE are used in all types of operations, regardless of their legal basis, and qualification as an armed conflict and/or peace (enforcement) operation or not (Gill and Fleck, 2010: 586). When, as in ISAF, an armed conflict exists, ROE will further restrict the force that is otherwise permissible under the LOAC. In the absence of an armed conflict, ROE are the sole sources for the use of force. ROE thus provide commanders and their troops with the authority to use force in designated ways and modes. ROE will normally provide troops with the authority

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to manoeuvre, to use airspace, or to search and detain individuals if and when they constitute a threat to personnel or the mission. The authority to promulgate ROE rests within the command authority (Gill & Fleck, 2010: 119ff ). Each level of command is entitled to (further) restrict – not expand – the ROE and thus to regulate the amount of force when ordering subordinate commanders during missions. The ISAF ROE are authorized by the North Atlantic Council, and implemented through the NATO chain of command currently in charge of ISAF. As a result of diverging legal obligations, and political or diplomatic positions, Troop Contributing Nations use so-called ‘national caveats’ and ‘amplifications’ to bring multinational ROE in line with their national (legal or political) position. These caveats and amplifications are part and parcel of ROE in multinational operations. Caveats involve clauses that usually restrict a particular ROE for reasons of national legal obligations, national policy or operational restraints. Examples of national caveats may involve, inter alia, a geographical restriction, prohibiting armed forces to operate outside (or within) a designated area; instrumental limitations, prohibiting or restricting the use of certain weapons or ammunition; limitations with respect to the level of approval for execution of certain operations, the use of certain weapon systems or specific units (for example special forces); or interpretations of certain terminology within the ROE, such as hostile act or intent. Amplifications are used when a nation wants to clarify its position with respect to a particular ROE, for instance to illuminate the definition of one of the terms used (e.g., in case of ‘self-defence’) a term of art that has different meanings in different legal systems around the world. Therefore, a multinational commander will require a so-called ‘ROE and caveat matrix’ to obtain and maintain situational awareness in this respect. Clearly, such national considerations may influence the coordination and execution of ISAF operations.

Additional Sources

In addition to HR, LOAC and ROE, other supplementary mechanisms such as Tactical Directives, Standard Operation Procedures and Instructions (SOPs and SOIs) and Special Instructions (for air forces, SPINS) are used to control the use of force (Ducheine, 2010). These documents contain additional guidelines that set out the modus operandi for designated operations such as, targeting, fire support or detention. They also set the procedures applicable to these operations, or the required generic mind-set for the operations as a whole. To give one example of the former: in detention operations, a medical check-in by a qualified physician is required for any detainee that sets foot in a detention or holding facility. The authority for detention is vested within the ROE of the LOAC; the way in which detention is organized is laid down in a SOP. Through this SOP, human rights obligations are safeguarded.

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In that respect, Commander ISAF has issued a number of Tactical Directives in which he expressed his intent and his view on the required modus operandi in counterinsurgency operations like ISAF. In 2009, General McChrystal stated: ‘I expect leader at all levels to scrutinize and limit the use of force like close air support against residential compounds and other locations likely to produce civilian casualties’ and ‘I expect our force to internalize and operate in accordance with my intent’. A last source for controlling and restricting the use of force originates from the fact that ISAF operates with the consent of the Afghan state (see Chapter 3). The famous ‘Karzai 12’ are but one example of the fact that Afghanistan exercises jurisdiction within its territory, which enables it to restrain ISAF’s operations in some respect. The ‘Karzai 12’ refer to a dozen rules, initiated by president Hamid Karzai, set down by the ISAF commander general McChrystal, with the purpose to keep Afghan civilian casualties to a minimum (Washington Times, 2009).

Conclusion The purpose of this chapter was to provide an overview of the primary legal regimes and techniques through which the use of force in ISAF is regulated: human rights, the Law of Armed Conflict (LOAC), Rules of Engagement (ROE), and supplementary techniques. These legal regimes differ in purpose, scope of application and in the material content of their rules. Based on the case-law of human rights courts, it can be concluded that in the context of Afghanistan, states are bound by international human rights (HR) obligations when they detain individuals. It remains controversial whether this is also the case in relation to the use of force. We have also determined, on the basis of the organization of armed groups and the intensity of violence, that in Afghanistan a non-international armed conflict (NIAC) takes place. As a result, ISAF’s operations are to be planned and executed in conformity with LOAC. HR as well as LOAC are also used outside their formal scopes of application as a result of policy considerations. In other words, human rights can be applied even in the absence of jurisdiction, and LOAC can be applied outside an armed conflict. In addition, the use of force is further regulated through so-called Rules of Engagement. Supplementary techniques (SOPs, SOIs, Tactical Directives) are used to further delineate the (procedures for the) use of force. In sum, ISAF’s use of force is regulated in a comprehensive manner through the use of multiple legal regimes. However, the use of force is applied by man, not by legal regimes, the consequence being that troops are to be properly trained in (the application) of these regimes.

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References Amnesty International. (2007) Afghanistan – Detainees transferred to torture: ISAF complicity? Coomans, F. and Kamminga, M.T. (eds.) (2004) Extraterritorial Application of Human Rights. Oxford: Intersentia. Dennis, M.J. (2005) Application of Human Rights Treaties Extraterritorially in Times of Armed Conflict and Military Occupation (Agora: ICJ Advisory Opinion on Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestinian Territory). American Journal of International Law 99(1), 119-141. DEU Bundesregierung. (2010, 10-02-2010). Regierungserklärung des Bundesministers des Auswärtigen, Dr. Guido Westerwelle, zum deutschen Afghanistan-Engagement nach der Londoner Konferenz vor dem Deutschen Bundestag am 10. Februar 2010 in Berlin Available at:http:// www.bundesregierung.de/nn_1514/Content/DE/Bulletin/2010/02/16-1-bmaa-bt.html. Dinstein, Y. (2004) The Conduct of Hostilities under the Law of International Armed Conflicts. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Dinstein, Y. (2006) The ICRC Customary International Humanitarian Law Study. Israel Yearbook on Human Rights 36, 1-15. Ducheine, P.A.L. (2008) Krijgsmacht, Geweldgebruik & Terreurbestrijding; een onderzoek naar juridische aspecten van de rol van strijdkrachten bij de bestrijding van terrorisme (Armed Forces, Use of Force and Counter-Terrorism. A study of the Legal aspects of the role of the armed forces in combating terror). Nijmegen: Wolf Legal Publishers. Ducheine, P.A.L. (2009) ISAF en oorlogsrecht: ‘Door het juiste te doen, vreest gij niemand’ (ISAF and law of war: ‘By doing the right thing, nobody frightens you). Militair Rechtelijk Tijdschrift 102(6), 277-300. Ducheine, P.A.L. (2010) De status van aanwijzingen van buitenlandse commandanten bij de beoordeling van functioneel militair geweldgebruik. (The status of orders by foreign commanders in judging functional use of military force) Militair Rechtelijk Tijdschrift, 103(3), 145-154. Ducheine, P.A.L. and Pouw, E.H. (2010) ISAF operaties in Afghanistan: oorlogsrecht, doelbestrijding in counterinsurgency, ROE, mensenrechten & ius ad bellum . Nijmegen: Wolf Legal Publishers. Gill, T.D. and Fleck, D. (2010) The Handbook of the International Law of Military Operations. Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press. Gondek, M. (2009) The Reach of Human Rights in a Globalizing World: Extraterritorial Application of Human Rights Treaties. Antwerpen: Intersentia. Henckaerts, J.-M. and Doswald-Beck, L. (2005) Customary International Humanitarian Law (Volume I: Rules). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Human Rights Watch. (2007) The Human Cost – The Consequences of Insurgent Attacks in Afghanistan. ICRC (2008) ICRC Annual Report 2007. Geneva: ICRC. Kalshoven, F. and Zegveld, L. (2001) Constraints on the waging of war. An introduction to International Humanitarian Law (3rd ed.). Geneva: ICRC.

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Lorenz, D. (2005) Der territoriale Anwendungsbereich der Grund- und Menschenrechte. Zugleich ein Beitrag zum Individualschultz in bewaffneten Konflikten. Berlin: Berliner Wissenschafts-Verlag. Nauta, D.R.D. (2008) De behandeling van gevangengenomen personen tijdens counterinsurgency missies (The treatment of imprisoned persons during counter-insurgency missions). Militair Rechtelijk Tijdschrift 101(6), 173-183. Openbaar Ministerie (2007), Geweldsaanwendingen Chora rechtmatig, 30-6-2007. Available at: www.om.nl/organisatie/item_144364/item_147874/nieuwsberichten/@148343/om. Roberts, A. (2006) Human rights obligations of external military forces. In: International Society for Military Law and the Law of War (ed.) The rule of law in peace operations, Receuil XVII International Congress ISMLLW. Bruxelles: ISMLLW, 429-450. The Washington Post (2009) ‘U.S. troops battle both Taliban and their own rules’, November 16. Available at:www.washingtontimes.com/news/2009/nov/16/us-troops-battle-talibanafghan-rules.

6

Military ethics and Afghanistan Peter Olsthoorn and Desirée Verweij

Introduction: the military ethic and a changing profession For many of today’s armed forces, peacekeeping, humanitarian, and rebuilding missions are becoming increasingly important. In these missions militaries are dutybound to exercise self-control, trying to practice a non-threatening style that is respectful with the local population, and characterized by minimal use of force (Van Baarda and Verweij, 2006: 8). Clearly, the rationale behind such hearts-and-minds approaches, and the restraint exercised, is to a large extent self-serving: winning over the local population is essential for the success of today’s missions, something that as a rule can only be reached by limiting the number of civilian casualties as much as possible. A rising civilian death toll fuels resistance to one’s own military personnel, while a restrained approach is thought to yield better information and more cooperation from the local population, and thus, in the end, increased security for the troops. That these rationales are self-serving seems to suggest that consequences to the local population might count for less if the expediency argument would no longer hold. At first sight, that might seem a rather unsatisfactory conclusion. Yet, as it stands, and notwithstanding all good intentions to reduce the number of civilian casualties, the largest part of military codes, military oaths, value systems, and culture seem antagonistic to the idea that the life of a local civilian counts for the same as that of a Western soldier; military effectiveness and the interests of organizations and colleagues still hold central place in the military ethic (Robinson, 2007). This ethic took shape, however, at a time in which the interests of the local population played a lesser role, as the main task of Western militaries was the defence of the own territory. What we see today is that there is, as a result of the aforementioned shift of tasks, an increasing pressure on military personnel to take the interests of others than just the organization and colleagues into account, in recent years more so than ever before. This poses questions and dilemmas for them that they were not likely to encounter in earlier days. It is not always clear, for instance, how they are to deal with situations in which conflicting values – the safety of oneself and one’s colleagues versus the safety of the local population, but possibly also between military virtues and more civilian ones – impose conflicting demands

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on them. This article focuses on the battle of Chora, fought in the Afghan province of Uruzgan, and on the difficulty of having to balance the safety of colleagues with that of the Afghani. However, it also tries to give some clues for how to assess how well that balancing act was done in Chora. To do so, the following section describes the prelude, battle, and aftermath of the battle, and illustrates the restraints modern armed forces face these days. The subsequent two sections try to make sense of what happened in Chora in light of the just war tradition and our tendency to give priority to the interests of near and dear. The section after that focuses on the role of the conscience of military personnel, and is followed by the conclusion.

Chora: prelude, battle, and aftermath From August 2006 to August 2010, some sixty years after the police actions in the Dutch Indies, the Netherlands military was involved in another counter-insurgency mission in Asia, again with the aim to restore order, although this time under the scrutinizing eye of the media, and with a public that is sensitive to both the number of Dutch casualties and (albeit perhaps less so) the fate of the local population. These sensitivities clashed when on 10 June 2007 the district of Chora was surrounded by three hundred to a thousand Taliban fighters. At the time, the district had Dutch (about 60) and Afghan troops within its borders, and was also home to 75,000 Afghans who depended on them for protection. Extra Afghan police forces were requested, yet the few reserves that were sent by the Minister of Interior to Uruzgan to help, in the end refused to go to Chora. After a suicide attack on 15 June, killing Private First Class Timo Smeehuijzen and five Afghan children, the Dutch and Afghan troops came under a coordinated attack on 16 June. Just two months earlier, because of the limited progress with this restrained approach, the Dutch troops changed to a more outgoing approach – from an ink spot approach to a more mobile amoeba approach –, increasing the chances of encounters with the Taliban. The Minister of Defence, however, denied that a change of strategy had taken place and stated, in line with the restrained Dutch approach (a term policy makers have come to shun, incidentally, claiming that all countries involved use the same method), that Dutch military personnel in Afghanistan are ‘as civilian as possible, and as military as necessary’ (MoD, 2007). This remark pretty much captured the prevalent opinion in Dutch politics, in turn mirroring the popular sentiment that Dutch military personnel should only be sent to Afghanistan to rebuild, not to fight. Political support in parliament for the decision in early 2006 to send troops to Uruzgan was, in fact, on the condition that it should be a ‘rebuildingmission’ and not a ‘fighting-mission’ – notwithstanding the fact that these terms, which were used a lot in discussions in parliament and in the media, were hardly used within the Defence organization; it preferred the term counter-insurgency, covering both aspects. The reality it faces, however, is that the majority of the Dutch population would like to see that its armed forces are used only for humanitarian

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missions (Koelé and Ramdharie, 2004). In line with that popular sentiment, parliamentarians and journalists tended to closely monitor the ratio between the progress made in rebuilding and the time and effort spent in fighting the Taliban; something bound to have an influence on the way things are undertaken in Uruzgan. Yet, notwithstanding this peaceful inclination, and contrary to the so-called body bag hypothesis (the assumption that public support for a mission dwindles in case of casualties), opinion polls also showed that more casualties will not necessarily mean the end of public support for the mission in Afghanistan. In July 2010, for instance, no more than 32 per cent of the population were of the opinion that in case of casualties Dutch soldiers should be withdrawn from Afghanistan, whereas 43 per cent thought the opposite (MoD, 2010). Apparently, there is a reluctance to resort to the use of the military in risk operations, yet also a wish not to shrink if the decision to deploy military personnel has been taken. It is against this background that both journalists and military personnel who had been in the area during the battle for Chora later recounted having had associations with the Srebrenica tragedy of July 1995. On the evening of the 11th of that month, the day that the (in numbers and weaponry) superior Serbian troops had captured ‘the safe area’ thousands of Muslims had taken refuge to, the Dutch Minister of Defence and his colleagues in the cabinet in their bunker in the Hague at the time felt that the Dutch troops should show solidarity with the remaining local population and refugees. In retrospect this sounds somewhat hollow, seeing that, due to an insufficient mandate and a lack of men and weapons, the Dutch battalion had been unable to prevent either the fall of Srebrenica or the subsequent murder of 7,000 Muslims it was supposed to protect. Something traumatic like that should not happen again in Uruzgan. The decision was quickly made not to leave the local population in the hands of the Taliban, and large elements of the 500-men Dutch Battle Group were moved in over the next two days. Howitzers, Apaches, and F-16s, not available in Srebrenica, were called in to assist the troops on the ground in Chora. After a three-day battle, control of the area was regained. About 200 Taliban were killed in the biggest battle fought by the Netherlands military since Korea, while one Dutch sergeant-major died due to an accident with a mortar. Next to this, an unknown number of civilians lost their lives. According to a report by the Afghanistan Independent Human Rights Commission and the United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan (2007), estimates range from 30 to 88, with 60 to 70 being a more realistic estimate. About 15 had been tortured, shot or beheaded, and torched by the Taliban, yet about 35 to 65 others possibly died as a result of bombardments by Dutch artillery, despite efforts to warn the local population beforehand using loudspeakers. According to that same report the methods used by ISAF were heavy-handed, and not always accurate. President Karzai and the ISAF Commander, US General Dan McNeill, criticized the Dutch for using a howitzer, positioned 40 kilometres from Chora, without a forward controller. According to McNeill, in a classified report, this last element was a breach of the law of war. In the view of others,

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and among them Dutch Secretary General of NATO De Hoop Scheffer, a modern howitzer such as the one used in Chora (the PzH 2000), can do without a forward controller. Later, in October 2007, rumour had it that Australian troops in Uruzgan, operating under Dutch command, had refused to participate in the operation, worrying about the risks the operation would impose on civilians, and being of the opinion that participating in the operation would go against the rules of engagement. However, Karzai’s, McNeill’s, and, possibly, the Australians’ misgivings notwithstanding, a Dutch district attorney decided on 30 June 2008 not to prosecute military personnel for what happened in Chora, as they had acted within the limits set by the law of war and their rules of engagement. A potential discussion on how far the Western militaries’ moral obligations to the local population should go, and when force protection becomes risk aversion, was thus reduced to a dispute on technical and legal issues, with the disputants roughly divided along national lines. Interestingly, these criticisms from McNeill, Karzai, and the Australians came some months after critique on the Dutch approach that at first sight seemed to be of an opposite character (i.e., that the Dutch approach was in fact not heavyhanded but, to the contrary, much too soft). In December 2006, some high-ranking Canadian and British officers testified to seeing this approach as essentially flawed, because it avoided doing what is a precondition for rebuilding Afghanistan: dismantling the Taliban. According to them the, at that time, relatively small numbers of Dutch casualties gave evidence to its exaggerated caution, cowardice even (critique that also brought back to the minds of many in the Netherlands the tragedy in Srebrenica and the following – and ongoing – debate in the media whether the Dutch lack courage). This censure also led to some debate in NATO and subsequent media attention in the Dutch newspapers, with the latter providing a forum for Dutch commanders in Uruzgan, assuring the readers that the Dutch soldier fights as well as any other. In fact, however, both accusations – too careful at first, too heavy-handed later – come down to the same thing: Dutch military personnel are not willing enough to run risks at their own peril. Leaving aside that this critique might be undue (according to Anthony King (2010) fighting was, to the detriment of their mission, an end in itself for the British troops in Helmand), the criticism of being risk-averse could be launched against all NATO and US troops in Afghanistan. According to a recent report of the Human Rights Watch on civilian casualties in Afghanistan the number of civilian losses caused by airpower tripled from 2006 to 2007 as a result of the combination of light ground forces and overwhelming airpower’’ (Human Rights Watch, 2008: 2, 14). The same report warns that airstrikes that hit villages ‘have also had significant political impact, outraging public opinion in Afghanistan and undermining public confidence in both the Afghan government and its international backers’ (Human Rights Watch 2008: 3). The rising civilian death toll is thought to increase support for, and facilitate recruitment by, the Taliban (responsible for 75% of the civilian deaths in 2010). Taking ‘tactical measures to reduce civilian deaths may at times put combatants at greater risk,’ yet is a prerequisite for maintaining the support of the

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local population (Human Rights Watch, 2008: 5), which in its turn is something the mission in Afghanistan depends on. It is probably for these reasons that the second half of 2007 saw a change in NATO tactics, reducing the amount of civilian casualties significantly, at least temporarily; the death toll rose again during the first seven months of 2008 (Human Rights Watch 2008: 6). The number of civilian casualties dropped again in 2009, most likely as a result of ‘ISAF’s declared strategy of prioritizing the safety and security of civilians’ (United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan 2009: 23), and then dropped even further in 2010 (United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan, 2010). Nonetheless, aerial attacks still caused 171 deaths in 2010, and worryingly 102 of them in the second half of that year (United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan, 2010). What’s more, as a result of a lot of money and effort spent, Western militaries seem to get better at killing without getting killed than they already were. Today, the use of unmanned aerial vehicles reduces the risks for military personnel to about zero, but has in recent years taken many innocent lives in Pakistan and Afghanistan. With such a distance – physical, but also psychological – between a soldier and the horrors of war, it has to be feared that killing might get a bit easier. Such ‘statistical’ victims, however, in general seem to attract relatively little attention, especially when compared with the interest in the more visible and ‘real’ victims of Abu Ghraib, Guantánamo Bay, and Haditha.

Intentions and consequences That civilian deaths, such as the 35 to 65 in Chora, seem to count for less – at least in the eyes of politicians, militaries, media, and most citizens – has at least two reasons: partly, the victims are often geographically and psychologically far removed from us, but, more importantly, their deaths were, although perhaps foreseen, certainly not intended – civilian casualties are an unhappy side-effect of otherwise well intended actions. One could say that the first reason (that nearness matters) is considered a fact of life that has to be accepted as such, while the second reason (the relevance of intention) seems to be a more principled one that is in line with basic moral intuitions shared by most people. Regarding the second reason, the relevance of intention, some might argue that the difference between intended and unintended casualties is not that relevant, and therefore hold that a mission should not be carried out if civilian casualties are among the foreseen (or foreseeable) consequences – this is in effect the position taken by most pacifists, holding that the killing of innocent people in war is never pardonable. In modern warfare there are always innocent casualties, hence their conclusion that under the present conditions wars should not be fought (Fiala, 2010). As it basically rules out war altogether, this position is according to many authors too strict, as it forbids wars of self-defence and, more generally, does not allow war even in the cases that not fighting a war seems the immoral thing to do.

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For that reason they tend to take a more realistic approach, and insofar as they do so without actually falling into the extreme of realism (holding that in war there is no room for moral considerations) they can find guidance in the just war tradition, which attempts to offer an alternative for pacifism and realism alike. To address the unavoidable taking of innocent life, as said the main objection to war in the eyes of many pacifists, just war theorists have put forward the principle of double effect. That principle is formulated differently by different authors, but basically states that acts that have evil consequences are nonetheless permitted if four conditions are met: 1. the act is not bad in itself (such as the use of a howitzer against the Taliban during the Battle of Chora); 2. the direct effect is good (for instance the destruction of the Taliban); 3. the intention is good (the destruction of the Taliban and the saving of Chora are intended, civilian deaths are not); and 4. the intended good effects (the destruction of the Taliban and the saving of Chora) outweigh the unintended bad effects (civilian deaths), i.e., the chosen means should be proportional (Anscombe, 1961; Walzer, 1992: 153). Most authors agree that the third proviso, about intention, forms the core of the principle (Michael Walzer calls it ‘the burden of the argument’). Underlying that clause is ‘the claim that there is a stronger presumption against action that has harm to the innocent as an intended effect than there is against otherwise comparable action that causes the same amount of harm to the innocent as a foreseen but unintended effect’ (McMahan, 1994). Behind this idea is the even more basic distinction between ‘what one does to people and what merely happens to them as a result of what one does’ (Nagel, 1972: 131), for example between killing and letting die. Doing without this distinction would bring military personnel involved in unintentional killing on the same level as terrorists. Then again, the double effect principle requires little effort on the part of the military to minimize civilian casualties in its traditional understanding. As long as the latter are an unintended (and proportional) side-effect of legitimate attacks on military targets, and the use of a howitzer in the battle for Chora seems to be an example, these attacks are within the principle’s limits. However, although the intentional killing of a noncombatant is evidently evil, it is not so that unintentional deaths do not amount to a bad thing that should be avoided, if at all possible, and some might wonder if militaries sometimes invoke the principle of double effect a bit too easily. ‘Simply not to intend the death of civilians is too easy,’ writes just war theorist and political philosopher Michael Walzer (1992: 155). It is especially because of the principle’s lenience that Walzer in Just and Unjust Wars famously restated it, holding that soldiers have a further ‘obligation to attend to the rights of civilians’ (1992: 155), and that ‘due care’ should be taken. However, it is not enough to make efforts to avoid civilian casualties as much as possible; a soldier has to do this ‘accepting costs to himself,’ i.e., accepting risk

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to his or her life if necessary (1992: 155). Writes Walzer: we tend to ‘look for a sign of a positive commitment to save civilian lives’ that says that ‘if saving civilian lives means risking soldiers’ lives, the risk must be accepted’ (1992, p. 156). It seems that the use of a howitzer in Chora, although within the limits set by the doctrine of double effect in its traditional formulation, might fall short in light of the principle as reformulated by Walzer. Then again, the decision to stay in Chora to defend does testify to an acceptance of risk; clearly, leaving the population of Chora at the mercy of the Taliban would have been safer for Dutch military personnel but would have resulted in many civilian casualties – in all likelihood much more than now have died as a result of the artillery shelling. A final remark to finish this section with: although Walzer addresses the principle of double effect’s leniency, he stops short of actually putting the consequences to civilians to the fore; ultimately a sincere effort to avoid civilian casualties is deemed more important than whether or not that effort is successful. To return to Chora: it seems that, for Walzer, that acceptance of risk by Dutch soldiers in a attempt to reduce the amount of civilian casualties would have been more important than whether or not that effort was, in fact, successful. Why it is that in a military context the intention should matter that much is, however, still far from self-evident. The explanation probably lies in the principle’s background: one of the purposes of the double effect doctrine was to reconcile Christianity’s rejection of violence with the fact that in war innocent people are killed due to acts of Christian soldiers (Anscombe, 1961). Intentions are hence mainly deemed relevant because of the effect on the soldier’s moral standing: if he or she kills a noncombatant unintentionally instead of intentionally, we hold him or her a better person for it. Ultimately the principle of double effect is more about the actor, and his ability to look at himself in the mirror, than about those at the receiving end.

Distance Others have put the consequences to all parties involved to the fore, however; according to the Australian philosopher Peter Singer (1972), for instance, we have a moral duty to prevent the suffering of others if we are in a situation that allows us to do so ‘without thereby sacrificing anything of comparable moral importance’. The fact that some catastrophe is happening far away does not exempt us in any way from our moral duty to act. If, for example, Westerners are in a position to somewhat lessen suffering in poor countries by opting for a more sober lifestyle, and donating what they thus save to those who need it so much more, they have a moral duty to do so. At first sight, it appears to follow from this standpoint that possible adverse consequences to the local population and the civilian casualties in Chora form an obvious example should count for a lot more than they do at present. Then again, some authors dispute that soldiers really have far-reaching obligations to strangers in times of war, and it has been a topic of debate whether or

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not they can in fact be subjected to higher risks with the purpose of lowering the risks for foreign civilians (Walzer and Margalit, 2009). It seems, indeed, somewhat presumptuous to expect military personnel to run risks on the behalf of strangers, while most of us do not feel an obligation to donate most of our surplus money to, say, hunger or malaria fighting organizations. In that light, it is not so clear to what degree (if any) there was a moral obligation on the part of the Dutch soldiers defending Chora to risk their lives protecting outsiders. They were not confronted with the choice between one’s own wish to lead a luxurious life and the right to life of those starving in faraway countries, but between one’s own right to life and that of colleagues on the one hand, and that of a stranger on the other. In their case, giving priority to the safety of the local population is doing considerably more than what Singer asks for when he states that we are to help strangers if that can be done ‘without thereby sacrificing anything of comparable moral importance.’ From this point of view (which already demands a lot more than most of us are willing to give) the Dutch soldiers probably did not have to accept these costs to themselves, which are so clearly of ‘moral importance.’ Most military personnel are, understandably, above all concerned about the safety of their colleagues, which they (similar to politicians and the public) rate higher than that of the local population. At the same time, it is clear that this position seems somewhat at odds with the intent behind operations like that in Uruzgan, and the tactics employed: trying to prevent the population of Uruzgan from developing loyalties to the Taliban. One could therefore argue that, even if a truly impartial view may be expecting too much from soldiers involved in a regular war, soldiers and policy makers might be expected to take a somewhat more unbiased view of today’s more humanitarian operations. That would have the beneficial effect that civilian casualties that are a result of reducing the risks for Western military personnel would be taken somewhat less lightly than at present sometimes seems to be the case. In What We Owe To Each Other, Thomas Scanlon described thinking about right and wrong as ‘thinking about what could be justified to others on grounds that they, if appropriately motivated, could not reasonably reject’ (1998: 5). Mere distance and the absence of intention certainly do not seem to be such grounds. However, incidents in recent years have shown that the restraint required in today’s operations does not always come naturally. Although most of us would like to see military personnel upholding high moral standards even when, for instance, the media are not present, it is the question whether that demand is realistic. It seems that especially for those who are led by how their behaviour might look in the eyes of others, what is only known privately and not out in the open does, in a sense, not even exist. This brings us to the matter of the conscience of the soldier.

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Conscience in military practice The ideal (conscientious) soldier or warrior resembles the ‘good cowboy,’ familiar from the John Wayne and Clint Eastwood Westerns, riding off in the sunset after finishing his job in a morally responsible way, leaving the viewers in the conviction that justice has been done. However, these westerns clearly tell us that there are not only good guys but also bad ones. In the same way we are informed by everyday military practice that there are not only ‘good’ soldiers in the military. Too many incidents have shown that a humanitarian ethos is not by definition part of their military equipment, or to put it differently, that not all soldiers are moral agents. According to American theologian Reinhold Niebuhr ‘politics will, to the end of history, be an arena where conscience and power meet, where the ethical and coercive factors of human life will interpenetrate and work out their tentative and uneasy compromises’ (Niebuhr quoted by Doyle 1997: 383). In this statement, conscience seems to refer to both the individual and social aspects of conscience, and the political and military consequences of these aspects. They are all part of the process in which the monopoly of violence is put into practice. This process starts with moral outrage in society and politics regarding, say, the dire human rights’ situation in Afghanistan. This is followed by a political reaction (based on the shared moral outrage, but probably also based on serving the voters). The question is whether the moral outrage of the first, public phase in this process is (still) present in the political and the military phases that follow. Or, to put it differently, is the social conscience that produces the moral outrage mirrored in the conscience of the individual politician and soldier? This question seems relevant, for the presence of a well functioning conscience seems a prerequisite for morally responsible actions. In order to answer this question a closer look at the meaning of the concept of conscience can be helpful. In his book Conscience and Conscientious Objections (2007), philosopher Anders Schinkel interprets conscience as a concerned awareness of the moral quality of our own contribution to the process of reality, including our own being. On the basis of historical and philosophical research, Schinkel describes conscience as a symbol with three core elements: (1) ultimate concern, (2) intimacy (3) presence of a witness (2007: 106). Ultimate concern refers to the experience that it is a necessity that something should be done. It is also clear that one’s own standards are deficient and that a superior standard is needed; Schinkel gives the example of Socrates’ awareness of falling short with regard to his own wisdom and his willingness to learn. The ability to be aware of and acknowledge one’s own limitations and fallibility is crucial in this respect; it seems the only protection against the hubris of decisions that are taken too quickly and without due reflection. It is clear that judgment plays a crucial role with regard to conscience (2007: 108). The second element (intimacy) implies a strong personal involvement; there can be no ultimate concern without it. It is important that one realizes: ‘this is about me,’ and that one feels one’s own responsibility. It is the experience that one’s identity is at stake. The third element

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(witness) implies the awareness that there is a spectator witnessing our actions and thoughts; the metaphor of the heart seems to fulfil this function as ‘an excellent witness’ (Schinkel, 2007: 112); the concepts syneidesis and conscientia (the Greek and Roman roots of our concept of conscience) refer to an internal witness. This also holds for Adam Smith’s ‘impartial spectator’ or ‘great inmate of the breast,’ for Hobbes expression (based on Quintilianus) that ‘conscience is a thousand witnesses’ (Schinkel, 2007: 113), and for the metaphor of the (divine) ‘voice of conscience,’ which refers to the experience of being spoken to, as is described by Socrates and in the Bible. This ‘voice’ carries a special authority and experiencing it has as such a transcendental quality. For Heidegger conscience is what constitutes the subject as an individual. Heidegger describes it as a call, in the interpretation of Staten ‘a call to Care’ (Schinkel, 2007: 120). To put Schinkel’s analysis in a nutshell: our conscience tells us that it is crucial for us to do something in a particular situation, that it is our responsibility, even our obligation, to act, and that our actions are being scrutinized. Also in a military context, it is, ideally, our conscience that tells us to act, at times even to use violence. This is in line with the Just War tradition which, as mentioned in the above, teaches us that waging war is not, as such, a reprehensible act; it might even be a moral obligation. The willingness to bind war to rules has developed throughout the course of history, and the Just War tradition and the Geneva Conventions are examples of this attempt. They can be interpreted as the social and political conscience, discussed at the beginning of this section. However, rules never cover every situation and the ability to think and judge adequately are therefore indispensible; something which presupposes individual conscience. Yet, as indicated before, not every soldiers’ conscience is the same, neither is his or her level of moral development or moral professionalization. Nonetheless, today, in missions like the one in Uruzgan, the level of compliance with humanitarian rules seems higher than ever, and codes of conduct and military ethics courses testify to the fact that morally responsible behaviour is seen as a necessary prerequisite for professional (i.e., ‘good’) soldiering. However, the conscience of the individual soldier, formed and educated in ethics courses and training sessions, is probably not the only factor here. It seems that the omnipresence of the media, social media included, have magnified the three core elements of the symbol of consciences discussed above. Knowing that the eye of the camera is focused on one’s actions and scrutinizes every move, makes one adamant to act in a morally responsible way. Foucault’s disciplinary gaze, described in his Discipline and Punish (1977), may have found a twenty-first century equivalent in the omnipresence of the media, which introduces, next to the old symbol of the heart, another symbol for conscience: the eye of the camera. That is not necessarily a bad thing; now and then, it seems to be that eye that stands between a soldier and a war crime.

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Conclusion In today’s operations, the combined forces of law, politics, an increased moral sensitivity, public opinion, and extensive media coverage, both at home and abroad, not only pose considerable limitations on Western troops, but, notwithstanding the fact that these factors do not always work in the same direction, to a certain extent also help troops to make true their expressed ambition (that is, by some members of militaries) to be a force for good. The media, in particular, seem to play an important role here, but can only perform that function if they keep their independence. Recent years have shown that embedded journalists mainly write about their own military, and pay much less attention to the suffering of the local population than journalists working independently from the military. Also in the case of Uruzgan the majority of the newspaper articles was about Dutch soldiers, while only a small minority pointed to the plight of the Afghani (HCSS, 2008). Yet, although in general attracting less attraction than losses among Western military personnel and victim of war crimes, civilians killed unintentionally form the majority of those killed in today’s conflicts. That their deaths are, although foreseen, not intended possibly explains why these civilian casualties are, in general, deemed less important than Western military casualties (Shaw, 2005: 79-88). It is perceived that way by both politicians and the populations at large in the West, hence the emphasis on relatively safe ways of delivering firepower, such as artillery and high-flying bombers. Seeing that many of today’s civilian casualties are foreseeable, one might wonder if the threshold should not be somewhat higher than it has been in recent years. It is likely that taking civilian deaths seriously as such (i.e., as something to be avoided independently of what is in it for us) would possibly result in the postponement or cancellation of particular missions in even more cases than the aforementioned reasons of expedience at present already lead to. However, as mentioned in the introduction, there is an expediency based argument here too: if tactics that put civilians at risk can drive the local population in the hands of the insurgents, a more impartial ethic will in the long run benefit outsiders, colleagues, and defence organizations alike.

References Afghan Independent Human Rights Commission and the United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan (2007) AIHRC and UNAMA Joint Investigation into the Civilian Deaths Caused by the ISAF Operation in Response to a Taliban Attack in Chora District, Uruzgan, on 16th June 2007. Available at: http://www.trouw.nl/redactie/doc/chora.pdf. Anscombe, G.E.M. (1961) War and Murder. In: Stein, W. (ed.) Nuclear Weapons: A Catholic Response. London: Burns & Oates, 43-62.

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Fiala, A. (2010) Pacifism. In: Zalta, E.N. (ed.) The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Fall 2010 Edition) Available at: http://plato.stanford.edu/archives/fall2010/entries/pacifism. Foucault, M. (1977) Discipline and punish: The birth of the prison. New York: Pantheon Books. HCCS (2008) Eyes Wide Shut? The Impact of Embedded Journalism on Dutch Newspaper Coverage of Afghanistan. The Hague: The Hague Centre for Strategic Studies. Human Rights Watch (2008) “Troops in Contact”: Airstrikes and Civilian Deaths in Afghanistan. New York: Human Rights Watch. King, A. (2010) Understanding the Helmand campaign: British military operations in Afghanistan. International Affairs 86(2), 311-332. Koelé, T. and Ramdharie, S. (2004) Leger zonder Ballen (Army without Balls), de Volkskrant ( January 17). McMahan, J. (1994) Revising the Doctrine of Double Effect. The Journal of Applied Philosophy 11(2), 201-212. MoD (2007) Het Defensiebeleid op Hoofdlijnen (Highlights of the Defence Policy). The Hague: Ministry of Defence. MoD (2010) Monitor Steun en Draagvlak: Publieke Opinie Missie Uruzgan (Monitor Social Support: Public Opinion Uruzgan) ( July). Nagel, T. (1972) War and Massacre. Philosophy and Public Affairs 1(2), 123-144. Robinson, P. (2007) Ethics Training and Development in the Military. Parameters 37(1), 22-36. Scanlon, T.M. (2008) Moral Dimensions: Permissibility, Meaning, Blame. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Schinkel, A. (2007) Conscience and Conscientious Objections. Amsterdam: Pallas. Shaw, M. (2005) The New Western Way of War. Cambridge: Polity Press. Singer, P. (1972) Famine, Affluence, and Morality. Philosophy and Public Affairs 1(1), 229-243. United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan (2009) Annual Report on Protection of Civilians in Armed Conflict 2009. Kabul: United Nations Assistance Mission to Afghanistan. United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan (2010) Annual Report on Protection of Civilians in Armed Conflict 2010. Kabul: United Nations Assistance Mission to Afghanistan. Van Baarda, T. and Verweij, D. (eds.) (2006) Military Ethics: The Dutch Approach. Leiden and London: Martinus Nijhof Publishers. Walzer, M. (1992) Just and Unjust Wars. New York: Basic Books. Walzer, M. and Margalit, A. (2009) Israel: Civilians & Combatants, The New York Review of Books 56(8).

7

On your own in the desert The dynamics of self-steering leadership Ad Vogelaar and Sander Dalenberg

Introduction In Uruzgan units of platoon size performed various orchestrated assignments outside the base in an often dangerous and ambiguous environment under the command of a young lieutenant (as the on-scene commander). These units protected logistic convoys of large trucks transporting goods from Kandahar to Tarin Kowt, or from Tarin Kowt to Deh Rawod. Furthermore, they conducted reconnaissance assignments and observed areas where the Taliban could be present. Also, these units searched qalas in order to find weapons or substances with which explosive devices could be produced. On the other hand, these same units tried to make friendly contacts with the local population in order to show that they were present to protect the safety of the citizens (‘showing the flag’) and with that winning their ‘hearts and minds’. Furthermore, they accompanied members of the Provincial Reconstruction Team (PRT) or civilian organizations doing their work among the local population. These situations in which these assignments have been conducted have one thing in common. They are characterized by ambiguity and by imminent and acute danger. More often than not engagement in combat action was part of these assignments. The tragic event in which one Dutch company fired at another Dutch company, resulting in two soldiers being killed, provides a painfully clear example of how ambiguous and dangerous the situation was. Moreover, units outside the encampment could always be hit by an Improvised Explosive Device (IED), which made operations outside the base very stressful for the soldiers. Of the 25 Dutch soldiers who have died in Afghanistan from 2006 to 2010, 11 have been killed by IEDs. Furthermore, they had fire contact (TIC: Troops in Contact) with enemy forces. Some of the units had even run into an ambush that was set up for them. Risk-taking was perceived as necessary since the military had to show their presence to the local population among whom the opposing forces were hiding.

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Therefore, soldiers gave up their safety and patrolled with relatively little protection amidst the local population. If they had placed more emphasis on personal safety, it could have led to greater distance and less contact with the local population. In conclusion, small military units usually operated dispersed over a relatively large area, carrying out a variety of complex and dangerous tasks, their commanders mostly being young lieutenants. These lieutenants had to deal with the many uncertainties and complexities that accompanied these kinds of operations. The question is how such an operation should be led, both from the part of the lieutenants in the field (on-scene commanders), and from the part of their leaders at the base. In this chapter we address how military leaders at several hierarchical levels led their personnel while coping with the dangers and the ambiguities during the assignments. We start with a description of how the mission should be run according to the Dutch doctrine and according to some commanders of the battle group of Task Force Uruzgan (TFU) that we interviewed during their mission1. Following that, we make a conceptual distinction between leadership in ambiguous situations and leadership in dangerous situations. This distinction is necessary because in the literature both leadership aspects have often been introduced separately. Additionally, we analyze leadership in situations like in Uruzgan from a more theoretical point of view. We show how modern leadership theories contribute to our knowledge of distributed leadership in ambiguous as well as in dangerous assignments.

Leadership in ambiguous and dangerous situations

The Dutch way of leading in Uruzgan

One of the key elements of success, according to some commanders of the Dutch battle groups in Uruzgan, was ‘presence in the green’, instead of ‘watching the green’. With this statement they meant that the task force should be moving among the population as much as possible. Presence was deemed to make it easier to have contacts with the population in order to ‘win their hearts and minds’ and with that to diminish the influence of the opposing militant forces (Taliban). Another gain of commitment from the population could be the access to relevant information. This general idea of presence in the green could be considered the intent of higher command (i.e., what should be aimed at by the task force). How the presence should be achieved was left to the discretion of sub-commanders, with the company commanders making the plans, and platoon commanders actually carrying out the assignments outside the base. These subordinate commanders, realizing that commitment of the population was the most important goal to be attained, had the latitude to choose the most appropriate moments to deploy the units over the area for which they were responsible. They had to make decisions on aspects such as: what tasks should the platoons perform outside the base, when should they leave the base, where should they go, in what formation, and how long should they stay away.

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The platoon commander could determine by himself in what posture the unit had to be present in any part of the green at any point in time. In his decision process of how to conduct a patrol, the platoon commander paid attention to his personnel (e.g., the first weeks in Uruzgan most of the soldiers were a little anxious, not to say afraid). Serious attention to this anxiety meant that some platoon commanders chose to enter only the periphery of the green for a few hours, the very first time ‘they went in’ with their unit. Fulfilling this patrol with success most of the time reduced the tension for individuals and the unit. While gradually increasing the intensity and risk of presence in the area, contact with individuals in the unit remained important to determine if everybody in the unit was ‘ready to stay deeper in the green’2 for some longer period of time. Some units were, in a few weeks, capable to stay away from the base for several days in a row. In that way they established even more presence in the green than higher command ever intended to. This success enhanced individual feelings of competence, mutual trust, and trust in the on-scene commanders. In their decisions to be in the area among the population, on-scene commanders also had to solve dilemmas. Safety of their unit often conflicted with the intent to be present in the area as much as possible. Both the safety of ‘their own unit’ and the safety of the citizens was at stake. Deployment in the area could escalate in fullscale combat with Taliban fighters, who could use the population as a human shield. When platoons were conducting their tasks there is also an interesting shift in leadership responsibility. Platoon commanders had command over their platoon as a whole, but not over the group in which they moved along. The leader of the group was the group commander. When the group entered a combat or emergency situation, the group commander had the lead over the group including the platoon commander who was leading the whole platoon including the group of which he was part. The platoon commander received orders from the group commander about what to do as a group member. While sending messages to other groups, he could be pulled back, pushed down on the ground, or given orders to move to another location by the group commander. This reversal of leadership is important because the platoon commander had to overview the whole situation, not being distracted by the combat action in the situation at hand.

Coping with ambiguity and uncertainty

In Task Force Uruzgan as well as in many other land operations, small military units usually carry out their tasks dispersed over a relatively large area. Because of this dispersion, commanders at lower levels in the military hierarchy are usually the on-scene commanders who have to deal with the many ambiguities that accompany the operations. It is therefore imperative to have much analyzing and problemsolving capacity throughout the organization. This means that at many hierarchical levels ‘thinking commanders’ instead of merely ‘rule-following commanders’ are required. On-scene commanders are the ones who have to make sense of the situations they are confronted with, and have to act according to their assessments in

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trying to accomplish their part of the assignment. In fact, many of the problems that have to be solved could be perceived as new, not only for the on-scene commanders, but also for their superior commanders at the base. This line of thinking requires an organizational philosophy where responsibilities and authorities are delegated throughout the command line in order to stimulate initiatives and leadership at all levels. In essence, it requires leadership from the edge (Vogelaar, 2007). The word ‘edge’ refers to individuals (sub-commanders) at the periphery of the organization (i.e., where the organization interacts with its environment) to have an impact or effect on that environment. The concept ‘leadership from the edge’ is used to stress that these sub-commanders (on-scene commanders) have to be in command of the situation they are in. They have to assess the situation and develop initiatives in pursuance of the desired end-state of the organization. Leadership from the edge concentrates on the enterprising actions of on-scene personnel in an uncertain, fast-changing, and ambiguous environment. They have to be capable and willing to take the required initiatives and the accompanying responsibilities. It is very important where local conditions develop quickly, where it is essential to build an integrated local situational awareness, where the top of the organization has no good insight in local situations, where short-term urgent decisions are required, or where there are no adequate communication means (Dekker, 2003). In Uruzgan all of the above suited most of the time for many units. In the military literature, the concept of leadership from the edge has much in common with the concept mission command (Doctrine Committee of the Netherlands Army, 1996; Vogelaar and Kramer, 2004; Vogelaar, 2007). The system of mission command is based on commanders giving broad assignments that are clear about what should be achieved, but that leave much latitude to their subordinates about how they should proceed to accomplish the assignments. However, we prefer the concept of leadership from the edge in order to stress that on-scene commanders should think through the situations they are confronted with and take the initiatives that are required of them, even if they have no specific orders or where given orders are not appropriate to the situation at hand. We see much of this system in the Dutch way of leading in Uruzgan that has been described before. Platoon commanders as on-scene commanders had to make decisions about how to fill in their presence in the operational area. Most of their decisions fit within the boundaries as set by their higher commanders, but there were also successful initiatives that higher commanders had not thought about before giving their assignments. The initiative to use donkeys for transport of military goods by the marines was an example that was relatively unconventional and was thought out by platoon commanders themselves. By using donkeys to carry equipment, the marine units could travel much further, compared to when the personnel had to carry all gear by themselves. Moreover, the unit could travel to the platoon base on a number of different paths instead of one road which would be used by trucks to transport the gear. The deployment of the unit was therefore much less predictable. This measure was initiated by one of the platoon command-

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ers who remembered the use of ‘beasts of burden’ in an exercise in Norway. Higher command had not thought about it, and initially hesitated to approve. Another example shows that sub-commanders should be critical to the orders they receive. A company commander received the order to go back to the same place where his units had driven into an ambush, ‘just to show that we are not afraid’. The commander assessed the situation and feared that he would drive into an ambush again. Instead he feigned to go back with a small part of his unit meanwhile outflanking the Opposing Militant Forces with his main force. By doing so he still showed that the unit was not afraid to engage in combat but he used the benefits of surprise to defeat the enemy.

Coping with danger

Military leadership in operational conditions can make a difference in matters of life and death. Campbell et al. (2010, p. 3) defined dangerous environments as those in which leaders or their followers are personally faced with highly dynamic and unpredictable situations and where the outcomes of leadership may result in severe physical or psychological injury (or death) to unit members. Military leaders are trained to lead their personnel in dangerous situations, in particular because they may have to give assignments that bring their subordinates into harm’s way. This leadership is called in extremis leadership, which is defined as ‘giving purpose, motivation, and direction to people when there is imminent physical danger, and where followers believe that leader behavior will influence their physical well-being or survival’ (Fisher et al., 2010). Leadership in high-risk environments has to deal with two challenges. The first challenge is that in point-of-death situations followers need to trust their leaders’ competence in making the right decisions as well as their loyalty to not expose their followers to unnecessary danger. As Kolditz (2007) found, the average soldier is likely to find court-martial to be a more attractive option compared to following orders of an incompetent leader in a war zone. Sweeney (2010) studied the reasons for soldiers to reconsider trust in their leaders prior to going to combat. He found that concerns about their leaders’ ability to perform their tasks as a leader, was the most important reason to change their trust in the leader. In another study, Sweeney, Thompson, and Blanton (2009) found that besides competence, loyalty was the second most important attribute on which to base trust of the leader. As has been described before, safety issues were important for military leaders in Uruzgan. It is a matter of loyalty to their personnel not to expose them to unnecessary danger. The following example from a television documentary (Zembla, 2010) shows how important this could be. Upon their return to the base a reconnaissance unit was told that their company commander wanted them to start a subsequent assignment immediately. This specific unit had already been outside for a couple of weeks and the unit commander asked for a little bit more preparation time, because the subsequent assignment had not been prepared well enough in his opinion. However, the company commander

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refused to grant that request because in his opinion that meant the delay of the whole operation. The company commander forced the issue into a question of loyalty to his authority. When the NCOs of the unit pointed at the dangerous aspects of the assignment for which they had to prepare themselves and their soldiers, the company commander appeared to have said: The mother of my mother is German. I am a Prussian leader and for me Befehl ist Befehl. And I am not interested who will be killed in the assignment, you, you, or you [the commander pointing at several people]. Your body will be brought back to the Netherlands and we will continue with the assignment.

When the sergeants still refused to accept the assignment, the unit was suspended from further duty. In hindsight, this situation might have been prevented if the company commander had weighted the arguments of the NCOs to have some more preparation time against the importance of the assignment. For instance, how important was it to start the assignment exactly at the moment the company commander wanted the assignment to start. The company commander should also have paid more notice to the professional attitude of the unit he tried to persuade to follow his orders. The unit had performed well in the area before the incident. But perhaps the most important mistake he made was to give the impression that he did not care about the welfare of his personnel. The second challenge for commanders is that awareness of the threat can lead to negative consequences, such as soldiers distancing themselves from soldiers of other coalition forces, or derogating the local population (Van den Berg, 2009). On top of that, Fisher et al. (2010) found that in an environment where excess violence occurs, a violent culture among soldiers could also develop, giving way to both recreational (e.g., playing games with weapons or hand grenades) and/or operationally related violence (e.g., using modified weapons). It is up to the leaders to motivate their personnel to control their attitudes, perceptions, and behaviour towards others in a professional manner. In summary, in dispersed military missions in dangerous circumstances two characterizations of military leadership have been proposed. First, leadership from the edge has been introduced to describe those leadership aspects that are necessary to stay alert and make decisions in ambiguous situations wherever they are needed. Second, in extremis leadership is advocated where leaders have to be trusted by their personnel to actually lead their personnel through dangerous situations. Because military assignments often combine both ambiguity and danger, both kinds of leadership may have to be combined in actual assignments. Both characterizations of leadership have been introduced as a result of military practice. However, these characterizations could also be connected to a solid theoretical base of modern leadership literature. In the next section we describe a number of leadership theories that are proposed by Vogelaar et al. (2010) to actually underpin the more

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Table 7.1

Leadership theories related to leadership from the edge and in extremis leadership

Leadership theory

Dimensions

Transformational leadership

Inspirational motivation Intellectual stimulation

Leadership from the edge

In Extremis leadership

Idealized influence Individualized consideration Team leadership Super-leadership Empowering leadership

Developing selfleadership Showing meaning Self-determination Self-efficacy Impact

Authentic leadership

practical views on leadership that have been described in this section (see Table 7.1). We use these theories to further elaborate the leadership aspects in Uruzgan.

Modern leadership theories in support of leadership from the edge and in extremis leadership

Transformational leadership

Transformational leadership (Bass, 1998) is one of the most effective leadership styles for consideration in situations like in Uruzgan. According to Bass (1998), this style of leadership transforms and motivates followers by (1) making them more aware of the importance of what they are doing or could accomplish, (2) inducing them to transcend their own self-interest, and (3) activating their higher-order needs. Shamir and Howell (1999) showed that transformational leadership is more important than transactional leadership in situations that can be characterized by crises and fast changes, and also in conditions where tasks are complex and the goals are ambiguous. By their leadership style transformational leaders are able to motivate their personnel. With transformational leadership, followers feel trust, admiration, loyalty, and respect toward the leader and are motivated to do more than they actually originally expected to do (Yukl, 2010). Transformational leadership theory is based on four dimensions of leadership behaviours. First, the dimension idealized influence refers to leaders who take per-

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sonal risks by leading from the front and who are trusted for their competence in dangerous settings and may function as inspiring examples for their subordinates. This dimension arouses strong follower emotions and identification with the leader who creates trust and self-confidence in followers. Second, inspirational motivation indicates the extent to which leaders inspire and motivate subordinates for their work by giving a positive meaning (e.g., formulating and communicating an optimistic vision, relating the work of followers to this vision, and showing commitment and persistence in reaching the goals) (Bass, 1998). The formulation and communication of a commander’s intent that corresponds with the self-image and the values of the subordinate commanders are supportive here. Third, the dimension intellectual stimulation is meant to increase follower awareness of problems that need to be solved and influence followers to view problems from a new perspective (e.g., this part of leadership encourages a broad interest in followers, encourages the use of intuition, and does not criticize followers for making mistakes) (Bass, 1998). The dimension implies that on-scene commanders are stimulated, educated, and trained to be professionals who take care of difficult situations themselves and are furthermore free to make decisions about the conduct of operations. Fourth, leaders showing that they care for their personnel (the dimension individualized consideration) provides the basis for risk taking when it is necessary. A leader who provides support, encouragement, and coaching to followers, who recognizes strong and weak points of followers, is interested in followers’ needs, and who listens actively is more trusted as a person. This is important for subordinates to be willing to risk their lives for their leader. In sum, the dimensions inspirational motivation and intellectual stimulation are strongly related to leadership from the edge because they stress the following notions. Higher commanders as well as on-scene commanders formulate their intent with accompanying goals in such a way that their subordinates know what should be attained in the short and the long run. Furthermore, they know what priorities should be set. Good commanders picture the larger context of specific operations and what is aimed at with the specific operations (inspirational motivation). Furthermore, as has been stated in the former section, sub-commanders should be given the responsibility to think about how to perform their operation. In this way they are challenged to think about possible solutions and to achieve their goals (intellectual stimulation). However, not all commanders operated in such a sensible way. On-scene commanders often experienced tight command from their commanders at the base who turned to micro-management. During an operation, one on-scene commander reported that it was dangerous to enter a certain area of qalas. He knew the surroundings and noticed that it was too quiet, not the way it used to be when his unit had patrolled over there earlier. The route through the specific area was planned to get the unit further into the area of responsibility and with that to try to explore and extend the footprint in that area. The on-scene commander proposed to reroute and ignore this area. However, higher command pushed through and, despite further

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remarks and hesitation of the on-scene commander, higher command ordered to proceed as planned. Torn between loyalty to higher command and the assignment, on the one hand, and the safety of his unit, on the other, and a little bit afraid of possible negative consequences for his career if he refused to act as he was ordered, the on-scene commander followed higher command and drove into an ambush. The dimensions idealized influence and individualized consideration are more closely related to in extremis leadership. These dimensions stress the importance of the following aspects: a leader who is an example for his personnel, who takes risks, but also knows his personnel and takes care of their needs. There have been numerous examples in which on-scene commanders have shown outstanding behaviour in front of their men in very dangerous situations (idealized influence). One of the most well-known examples is Captain Kroon who earned the most prestigious medal of honour (Militaire Willemsorde) because he risked his life in order to save his platoon, which had run into an ambush. Furthermore, he prevented his men from committing misbehaviour against killed Taliban fighters (NRC Handelsblad 2009). Also the dimension individualized consideration is important in dangerous situations. The earlier mentioned example of the company commander who suggested he cared more for the timing of an assignment than his subordinates’ lives shows that such an impersonal attitude, in which personnel is just a means to get the job done, works counterproductively.

Team leadership

Leadership is often perceived as a hierarchical top-down process in which the individual leader influences the subordinates. However, the complexity of today’s operations necessitates the involvement of many specialists whose opinions should be taken into account in the decision-making processes in order to guarantee quality of decision-making. Furthermore, commitment to decisions is better guaranteed if the relevant participants play a role in that process (Vroom and Yetton, 1973). In the same vein, leadership of military operations should also be approached as a team activity. Therefore, focusing on command team effectiveness instead of leader effectiveness receives more and more attention (Essens et al., 2008). Essens et al. (2008) make a distinction between horizontal teams (commander and staff ) and vertical teams (commander and subordinate commanders). The paradigm of team leadership implies that in the preparation phase of a specific operation higher commander and on-scene commanders discuss the plan (and that the plan is not only dictated by the former). In the discussion specific tasks and priorities can be discussed and remaining ambiguities can be cleared. Furthermore, the operation can be explained in relation to the higher goals. The discussion also guarantees a better understanding of what the unit should strive for and what its role is in the overall plan. The platoon commander (on-scene commander) in his turn should discuss the resulting assignment with his sub-commanders who all bring in their specific expertise (combat, military engineers, medical specialists, logistic units, provincial reconstruction team, etc.).

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In sum, the concept of team leadership implies that on-scene commanders should be involved in the planning and decision making about their assignments in order to improve understanding and involvement on their part. In this process they know better what their role is and with that it supports leadership from the edge. In addition, the on-scene commander should make use of all the multi-disciplinary expertise that is in his unit.

Self-leadership, super-leadership and empowerment

In an interesting paper, Kelley (1989) proposed that the qualities that make someone a good follower are almost the same as those of a good leader. He arrived at the conclusion that in many organizations the most effective followers are those persons who combine independent, critical thinking with an active attitude. These followers organize their own activities, think through what they are doing, keep things under control, and are able to work without much supervision. They feel responsible for their own performance. Furthermore, they are committed to specific goals and strive to reach those goals. Finally, they feel responsible for developing and maintaining their skills. Therefore, according to Kelley, they are by far the most effective subordinates for their organizations, especially when these organizations have to cope with uncertain or difficult situations. In fact, on-scene commanders should possess these qualities. But as the aforementioned shift of leadership from platoon commander to group commander suggests, group commanders should also possess these qualities to be able to override the command of their platoon commander. An important precondition for subordinates who organize their own activities is that they feel empowered. Empowerment involves the perception by members of an organization that they have the opportunity to determine their work roles, accomplish meaningful work, and influence important events (Yukl, 2010). Empowerment could be the outcome of good leadership, such as transformational leadership. Spreitzer (1995) found support that psychological empowerment includes four defining elements: (1) meaning: the content and consequences of the work are consistent with a person’s values and ideals; (2) self-determination: the person has the authority to determine when and how the work is done; (3) selfefficacy: the person has high confidence about being able to do the work effectively; (4) impact: the person believes it is possible to have a significant impact on the job and work environment. These four elements could motivate for instance a platoon commander who may feel empowered if he is convinced that being “in the green” generates safety in the area (meaning), if he feels the freedom to decide how to create presence in the area (self-determination), and also finds himself capable to cope with unexpected and dangerous situations while being in the green (self-efficacy), and finally if he perceives that by being in the area he is making a difference (impact). For example, contact with local population is positive and (in the end) the influence of the Taliban reduces. Effective and empowered followers show self-leadership (Manz and Sims, 1989). Self-leadership implies that subordinates use strategies to direct their own behav-

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iour (e.g., self-set goals, rehearsal, self-observation, self-administered rewards, and self-administered punishment). Self-leadership is stimulated by what Manz and Sims (1989) call super-leadership, which means that superior leaders are concerned with developing self-leadership skills within their subordinates and empowering them to use them. Super-leadership uses a variety of techniques to develop such self-leadership, such as actually showing self-leadership themselves, encouraging learning from mistakes, and fostering initiatives and creativity. In general, encouraging empowerment and self-leadership are seen as more appropriate when the work environment is characterized by unstructured problems, such as complexity and friction. In sum, the subordinate commanders who are mostly needed according to the leadership from the edge philosophy show self-leadership. These subordinates organize their own activities, think about what they are doing, keep things under control, and are able to work without much supervision. Leadership from the edge is mostly stimulated by central commanders who take a supportive role, help their personnel to perform their tasks, and help them in their development (super-leadership). Furthermore, super-leaders stimulate all dimensions of empowerment (Spreitzer, 1995). If they only delegate authorities to sub-commanders, but forget to provide meaning to the assignment or to take care that these sub-commanders are up to the tasks they have to perform, task performance will decline. The dimensions self-efficacy and meaning are also important for ‘in extremis leadership’. If leaders provide their subordinates with the idea that they can handle a dangerous situation they are more motivated to deal with the situation. Also, the idea that what they do is meaningful is a motivating factor.

Authentic leadership

Another important development in the literature on leadership is authentic leadership. This concept is a reaction to most leadership theories; where leadership is presented as a set of behaviours that have to be applied in order to be effective as a leader. However, trying to behave according to these categories can be contradictory to who the leader really is and also to what he would like to be. Therefore, authentic leadership theory advocates leaders to remain close to who they are. According to Gardner et al. (2005), authentic leadership implies that a leader (1) acts in accordance with one’s true self, and (2) encompasses authentic relations with followers and associates. Authentic leadership cannot be acquired by training competency sets in traditional training programs. The essence is that authentic leaders stay very close to themselves and develop additional personal resources to perform (e.g., Cooper et al., 2005). By doing so, a leader tends to be more congruent and consistent in his behaviour and coherent in his statements. This perspective on leadership seems contradictory to the theories described above, such as transformational leadership. However, if leaders take out from these theories those notions that they feel comfortable with – and somehow find other solutions for those aspects of leadership

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that do not fit them – the theory on authentic leadership and other leadership theories are less contradictory. In military training programs leaders are taught what is expected of them. Furthermore, leaders are aware that they are the focus of attention in the organization and they should give the right example. Therefore, leaders often try to create a positive impression of themselves and cover their weaknesses and doubts. However, in stressful situations, but also in assignments of a longer duration, people are less able to keep up an impression and may fall back to what they really are. If the ‘real person’ of the leader is far removed from the image that the leader tries to uphold, he or she has a hard time and will not be satisfied with their position in the long run. Furthermore, his subordinates may note the false image and lose trust in the leader as a person. Therefore, in military assignments, especially when they are stressful and of a longer duration, it is advised that leader are authentic, sincere rather than tying to uphold an image. This authentic leadership is not based on techniques, but should be based on confidence, optimism, character, and awareness of own thoughts, behaviours, abilities, and values (Kolditz and Brazil, 2005).

Conclusion In Uruzgan the military organization had to cope with high levels of danger and ambiguity during their operations. Because the operations outside the gate were mostly conducted by young lieutenants as on-scene commanders, the system needs to be built on high levels of trust in order to leave much latitude to the on-scene commanders. Leadership from the edge and in extremis leadership are two characterizations that are important in these situations. In this chapter the discussion – presented from a theoretical point of view, but combined with the practical implications – addresses what this kind of leadership means. We conclude that most of the leadership was successful in these aspects. However, in a number of cases lessons can be learned and improvements can be made. For many platoon commanders it has been a unique experience. By leading their units from the edge and in extremis most young leaders did more and better than they ever could have imagined beforehand: ‘We achieved more than we thought was possible, and in the end the guys loved the challenge’.3

Notes 1 The Defence Service Centre of Behavioural Sciences assesses the morale of all units which are deployed in Dutch military missions (Van Boxmeer et al., 2010). The morale assessment is conducted during the pre deployment training and half way during the actual deployment. The morale assessment is an instrument developed to help military

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leaders improve and consolidate the morale of their unit. Therefore, an important part of the morale assessment is interviews and coaching sessions with the commanding officers. 2 The ‘green’ refers to the piece of terrain with vegetation. The green is situated next to smaller or larger rivers or dried out riverbeds. Looking at the terrain of Uruzgan it could be divided in the ‘green’ and the ‘dash’ (which refers to the desert-like, sandy environment with no vegetation). Because of the vegetation, the green is a more dangerous and unpredictable environment than the dash. Furthermore, most of the population lives in (or in the neighbourhood of ) the green. 3 Quote from an infantry platoon commander (Tarin Kowt, May 2010).

References Bass, B.M. (1998) Transformational Leadership: Industrial, Military and Educational Impact. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Campbell, D.J., Hannah, S.T. and Matthews, M.D. (2010) Leadership in military and other dangerous contexts: Introduction to the special topic issue. Military Psychology 22(S1), S1-S14. Cooper, C.D., Scandura, T.A. and Schriesheim, C.A. (2005) Looking forward but learning from our past: Potential challenges to developing authentic leadership theory and authentic leaders. Leadership Quarterly 16, 475-493. Dekker, A.H. (2003) Centralization and decentralization in network centric warfare. Journal of Battlefield Technology 6(2), 1-6. Doctrine Committee of the Netherlands Army (1996) Landmacht doctrine publicatie I: Militaire doctrine (Army doctrine publications I: Military doctrine). The Hague: Sdu. Essens, P., Vogelaar, A., Mylle, J, Blendell, C., Paris, C., Halpin, S. and Baranski, J. (2008) Team effectiveness in complex settings: a framework. In: Salas, E. Goodwin, G. and Burke, S. (eds.) Team effectiveness in complex organizations. New York: Routledge Taylor & Frances Group. Fisher, K., Hutchings, K. and Sarros, J.C. (2010) The “bright” and “shadow” aspects of In Extremis Leadership. Military Psychology 22(S1), S89-S116. Gardner, W.L., Avolio, B.J., Luthans, F., May, D.R. and Walumbwa, F. (2005) Can you see the real me? A self-based model of authentic leader and follower development. Leadership Quarterly 16, 343-372. Kelley, R.E. (1989) De volgeling geprezen. [Praise to the follower.] Harvard Holland Review 19, 74-80. Kolditz, Th.A. (2007) In extremis leadership. Leading as if your life depended on it. John Wiley & Sons. Kolditz, Th.A. and Brazil, D.M. (2005) Authentic leadership in In Extremis settings: A concept for extraordinary leaders in exceptional situations. In: Gardner, W. Avolio, B. and Walumbwa, F. (eds.), Authentic leadership theory and practice: Origins, effects, and development. Oxford, UK: Elsevier, 345-356.

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Manz, C.C. and Sims, H.P. (1989) Super-leadership: leading others to lead themselves. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall. NRC Handelsblad (2009) Ridder na strijd in vallei tegen Talibaan, NRC Handelsblad (February 11). Shamir, B. and Howell, J.M. (1999) Organizational and contextual influences on the emergence and effectiveness of charismatic leadership. Leadership Quarterly 6(1), 19-47. Spreitzer, G.M. (1995) Psychological empowerment in the workplace: Dimensions, measurement, and validation. Academy of Management Journal 38, 1442-1465. Sweeney, P. (2010) Do soldiers reevaluate trust in their leaders prior to combat operations? Military Psychology 22(S1), S70-S88. Sweeney, P.J., Thompson, V. D. and Blanton, H. (2009) Trust and influence in combat: An interdependence model. Journal of Applied Social Psychology 39(1), 235-264. Van Boxmeer, L., Verwijs, C., Euwema, M. and Dalenberg, S. (2010) Assessing morale and psychological distress during modern military operations: Providing military leaders with a tool to help them manage the demands of operational life. Paper presented at the International Military Testing Association Conference 2010. Lucerne, Switzerland, September 27-October 1. Van den Berg, C.E. (2009) Soldiers under threat. An exploration of the effects of real threat on soldiers’ perceptions, attitudes, and morale. Nijmegen, The Netherlands: Radboud University. Vogelaar, A.L.W. (2007) Leadership from the edge: A matter of balance. Journal of Leadership & Organization Studies 13(3), 27-42. Vogelaar, A.L.W., Van den Berg, C.E. and Kolditz, T.A. (2010) Leadership in the face of chaos and danger. In: Soeters, J. Van Fenema, P.C. and Beeres, R. (eds.) Managing Military Organizations; Theory and practice. London: Routledge, 113-125. Vogelaar, A.L.W. and Kramer, E. (2004) Mission Command in Dutch Peace Support Missions. Armed Forces & Society 30(3), 409-430. Vroom, V.H. and Yetton, P.W. (1973) Leadership and decision making. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press. Yukl, G.A. (2010) Leadership in organizations, 7th ed. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson/Prentice Hall. Zembla (2010) “Befehl ist Befehl” in Uruzgan (24 January).

8

Strain and stress Role ambiguity in an unfriendly environment Tessa Op den Buijs, Wendy Broesder and Marten Meijer

Introduction Since the Cold War many Western armed forces have participated in various international military operations. These military operations, such as in Iraq and Afghanistan, are characterized by preventing, controlling and ending violent conflict. Military activities in defence, diplomacy and development are captured as a Comprehensive Approach or Whole of Nation Approach, which have been endorsed by the NATO summit of Istanbul and Lisbon in 2007 and 2009 as the new NATO policy. In these activities soldiers are chasing insurgents, helping the local population, reconstructing buildings, restoring local government and are policing more than ever before. However, sometimes they have to operate under very unfriendly or warlike circumstances during these missions. These circumstances vary with the intensity of the mission or the type of conflict. As a consequence, military personnel might experience many strains and stressors in these situations (e.g., danger, injury, isolation and death). There are six over-arching stress dimensions identified for soldiers: isolation, ambiguity, powerlessness, boredom, workload and danger (Op den Buijs et al., 2010). All these stress dimensions can have serious consequences for the performance and the well-being of the military personnel in contemporary missions. For example, it was a political decision to deploy Dutch soldiers in Afghanistan as part of the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF). Main tasks were reconstruction and security tasks. However, the circumstances in Afghanistan were very unfriendly and ambiguous. This unfriendly environment caused stress and strain and for some soldiers it was unclear if they were deployed to help, to fight, or to do both. They experienced role ambiguity (NRC Handelsblad, 2010). Several studies noted role ambiguity as a key stressor for combat-trained soldiers engaged in peacekeeping operations. According to Bartone (2003) role ambiguity can be classified into three categories that make sense and provide a better understanding of soldier responses: (1) the mission is not clear or well-defined; (2) the command structure is ambiguous; and (3) there is role and identity confusion. Much research

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has already been conducted in the scope of the consequences for the soldiers’ wellbeing and performance of stressors such as ambiguity (Britt et al., 2004; Britt et al., 2008; Hancock and Szalma, 2008). In the context of organizational behaviour there has been a significant body of literature and research on role ambiguity, especially the constructs of role ambiguity and role conflict since 1950 (Beard, 1999; Kahn et al., 1964), and most of the studies have used the role ambiguity and conflict scales developed by Rizzo et al. (1970). Across various fields of military psychology, the relations between role ambiguity and the rules of engagement, the safety, the home front, the uncertainty in military families, stress reactions, and the willingness to participate and turnover have also been studied frequently (Huebner et al., 2007). It is likely that if members of military units or commanders experience role ambiguity regarding the mission or the command structure, both individual and collective functioning and fulfilling of responsibilities will suffer (Carron and Hausenblas, 1998). Recently, role ambiguity, role conflict and role identity have become new focus areas in military studies. How can soldiers identify with the different roles unfriendly situations require? Conceptual models have been developed to explore one’s abilities to switch from one role to another in teams and military units if the circumstances require different roles (Beauchamp et al., 2002; Meijer, et al., 2009; Broesder et al., 2010). The aim of this chapter is to describe some recent experiences of role ambiguity and role identity in Uruzgan and to explain the ability to switch between different military roles. In the next sections a theoretical overview of the concepts of role ambiguity, role conflict and role identity is presented. Second, we describe some experiences of role ambiguity and role conflict from a Dutch perspective in Uruzgan. Furthermore, we describe preliminary results of a survey study into role identity and role strain. Finally, we discuss future implications concerning role ambiguity and role identity in the military.

What is role ambiguity? Traditionally, most organizational and business research among employees analyzed ambiguity as a role stressor because of the importance of productivity and performance in that domain. These studies indicated that role ambiguity is related to important factors as job dissatisfaction, absenteeism, job-related anxiety, organizational commitment, low involvement, turnover and physical health problems (such as extensive fatigue, tension, or headaches) and employee burnout (Beard, 1999; Boles and Babin, 1996, Jackson and Schuler, 1985; Tang and Chang, 2010). Furthermore, performance is hindered by role ambiguity because the individual can face either a lack of knowledge about the most effective behaviours to engage in or an almost impossible situation for doing everything expected; behaviours are most likely to be ineffective, inefficient or insufficient ( Jackson and Schuler, 1985).

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So, role ambiguity is expected to be an important job stress factor with serious consequences, and role stress affects individual outcomes either positively or negatively (Beehr and Glazer, 2005). For understanding the negative consequences of role ambiguity we first define some concepts. Role can be defined as the situation or place one occupies relative to other individuals working in the same environment. A role is therefore a set of expectations applied to an individual from an organization (Broesder et al., 2010; Gregson and Wendell, 1994). When roles are ambiguous, there is uncertainty about what is expected from a person fulfilling the responsibilities of a role. Role ambiguity can be defined as a lack of clear, consistent information regarding the expectations concerning one’s position or role in an organization. Individuals can have many roles at the same time or others have different opinions and expectations about the same roles. Role theory describes how role strain and role conflicts occur when roles change, do not correspond to one’s expectations or are incompatible. We define these challenges encountered when the individual’s expectations and the organization expectations are in disagreement with one another as role conflict ( Jackson and Schuler, 1984). Role conflict can cause strain and as a consequence job dissatisfaction and high job tension (Katz and Kahn, 1978). A person experiencing role strain feels anxiety, uncertainty and irritability and shows psychical reactions and stress-related behaviour (tension, absenteeism, more drinking, more smoking, low satisfaction, low job involvement) (Schuler, et. al. 1977). Kahn et al. (1964) provided a theoretical model in which role ambiguity was posited as having two major dimensions. Firstly, task ambiguity (i.e., ambiguity in the performance aspects of one’s role responsibilities). Second, socio-emotional ambiguity (i.e., the psychological consequences and discomfort a person might experience in failing to fulfil role responsibilities). More recently it became clear that role ambiguity and role conflict based on the model of Kahn et al. (1964) also have important behavioural and psychological implications in the sports and the military (Franke, 1999; Beauchamp and Bray, 2001; Theodorakis et al., 2010). Beauchamps et al. (2002) constructed the Role Ambiguity Scale as an instrument for measuring role ambiguity in sport teams and they conclude that role ambiguity is associated with specific consequences, including the satisfaction of athletes, pre-competition anxiety, as well as team members’ intention to retain group membership in the future. Furthermore, they found that leadership behaviour as a factor is important in relation with role ambiguity among employees. In the organizational leadership literature there was already evidence for the initiating leadership structure as a predictor of role ambiguity, meaning that a leader clearly defines team members’ roles, so that each team member knows what is expected of him. So it is likely that training and instruction are related to role evaluation and role consequences ambiguity in teams. Clear and consistent feedback or clarifying rules and roles by leaders reduce role ambiguity and subsequently increase creativity. In the next section we will look more closely at role ambiguity in military units in Uruzgan.

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Role ambiguity in military operations As described by Op den Buijs et al. (2010) and Bliese and Castro, (2003) role ambiguity can be an important stressor in military operations, and especially in military units. Military units can be considered as small groups (such as sport teams) in which members have to work together and share responsibilities, mostly for a longer time. Soldiers experience different roles in fulfilling their responsibilities and personal resources and high rank responsibilities can influence the impact of role ambiguity for military leaders (Franke, 1999; Broesder et al., 2010; McDougall and Drummond, 2010). Different studies (a case study and a longitudinal interview project) show different role ambiguity experiences from leaders and soldiers during military operations in Afghanistan. In the next sections these experiences and lessons learned are described. First, a short overview of the situation in Afghanistan will be described, followed by a description of role ambiguity originating from a lack of unity of command and the commanders responsibilities in international cooperation, especially in situations where military leaders command troops of other nations. Another category of role ambiguity originates from a lack of coordination and cooperation between combat units and the so-called Provincial Reconstruction Teams (PRT), which have to foster local development projects by their skills in diplomacy and negotiations. Finally, preliminary results of a survey study into the role identity of Dutch soldiers are described for better understanding the experiences regarding role ambiguity and the switch soldiers had to make between the different military roles the operation in Uruzgan required.

Role ambiguity in commanding international military forces in Uruzgan In 2009, major-general De Kruif (Royal Netherlands Army), the ISAF Regional Commander South, commanded over 40,000 troops, of which over 600 lost their lives in 2009 in actions or accidents. Many more military were injured, including members of the Afghan army, the Afghan Police Force and Afghan civilians. During his command, major-general De Kruif had to cope with role ambiguity when the Dutch armed forces were in charge of clearing an area of Improvised Explosive Devices. In this area armed forces other than the Dutch armed forces were also deployed. Although the area was thoroughly inspected, a few days later an American soldier was killed in this area by an Improvised Explosive Device, which was not detected, nor demolished nor identified sufficiently by warning signals. The role ambiguity in this case originates from the responsibility for areas too large to clear and a lack of time and manpower for perfect clearing. Agreeing on the responsibility for clearing smaller areas decreases the impact of the operation, but the responsibility for larger areas increases the risks of such casualties. This type of role ambiguity seems to be similar to the experienced role ambiguity of the United

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Nations in Africa, where protection of the local population against sexual violence was not sufficient because of a lack of troops (Cammaert, 2011). The actual role ambiguity of major-general De Kruif in Afghanistan originates from the fact that he commanded troops of other countries, but that he was not fully responsible for their functioning, safety, injuries or death. De Kruif (2011) stated: ‘There were different interpretations of the operational command and operational control and there was no unity in command.’ Furthermore, he could not control the PRTs and the international organizations, causing stress and strain. This also might refer to unclear command structure and role confusion. Within the legal charter of NATO operations, nations will not keep other nations accountable for the loss of their military personnel or equipment. ‘Costs lay as they fall’ is still the motto, which means that each nation has to deal with their own losses, no matter how the loss was caused. Although this legal framework is quite clear, the feeling of being responsible without being held accountable resulted in role ambiguity as perceived by the commander himself or by the troops he commanded. In extreme circumstances, this ambiguity might cause more risk taking behaviour in operations involving other than own troops. During the ISAF operation Panther’s Claw in July 2009 (by the British Task Force Helmand), more than ten British soldiers were killed in action in just a few days, including their battalion commander (Meijer, 2010; De Kruif, 2011). This caused a discussion in Great Britain about the meaning of the mission. As a response to these losses, major-general De Kruif received a phone call from the British prime minister to reconsider his operational tempo (De Kruif, 2011). The operational tempo was high because of the deployment of more troops in the areas where insurgents were active. De Kruif could decrease the psychological burden of role ambiguity by making a distinction between being responsible, being accountable or being guilty. In the specific situation he claimed to be responsible, but not accountable or guilty.

Role ambiguity in battle groups and Provincial Reconstruction Teams Another example of role ambiguity or role confusion concerns the different roles of battle groups and Provincial Reconstruction Teams (PRT). The tasks of the PRT were to assist the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan to extend its authority, in order to facilitate the development of a stable and secure environment in the identified area of operations (Van der Woerdt and De la Porte, 2008). The battle groups had to secure the PRTs and to patrol the area of operations. As a consequence of the unfriendly situation, the tasks of the battle groups consisted of combat activities. From interviews with Dutch army units before, during and after their ISAF deployment it appears that sometimes the defence activities of battle groups caused a lot of collateral damage (Meijer et al., 2009). When chasing Taliban or other insurgents, battle group members destroyed houses, harassed family members when interrogat-

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ing them, or shot at qualas from which they received fire. At Dutch shooting ranges near local villages or qualas, sometimes Afghan children were severely injured by fire of battle group members who were training their fighting drills. Some members of the battle groups actively sought for aggressive confrontations with exchange of fire, the so-called moments of troops in contact. Main reasons for seeking this fire-contact consisted of an operational need, but sometimes of the ultimate goal of being in a mission or even being rewarded with the medal for fighting, which is given to troops after fire contact. The role of the provincial reconstruction teams was a completely different one. The damage done to the local population caused by the battle groups had to be repaired by members of the provincial reconstruction teams. Sometimes the activities of these provincial reconstruction teams were only focused on repairing this damage, so new developments were hampered or could not be supported at all (NRC Handelsblad, 2010; Grandia Mantas, 2010). The overload of repairing collateral damage caused frustration among the members of the provincial reconstruction teams, because they were hindered in performing their initial development plans. Trust of the local population could not be restored by their diplomacy and development activities, so in the end the goal of winning the hearts and minds of the local population was not reached (NRC Handelsblad, 2010). On the strategic level it was noted that the strategic communication regarding this collateral damage appeared to be slow and was beaten many times by coverage by local mass media (De Kruif, 2011). In such cases the time lag caused by the NATO chain of command, going back and forth between headquarters in Kandahar, Kabul, Brunssum, Netherlands and Brussels, Belgium was responsible for a critical loss of time. In the meantime local media or social media accused NATO forces of this unnecessary collateral damage, therefore the battle for the hearts and minds was lost again by NATO forces. Initially, the strategic communication by NATO consisted mainly of written press releases, leaflets and flyers. Once NATO strategic communicators realized that the main part of the Afghan population was illiterate they started communicating in spoken words on radio and television (De Kruif, 2011). As an overall result of this ambiguity in defence, diplomacy and development activities, the attitude of the local Afghan population towards the NATO forces became less positive. Compared to a pure humanitarian aid operation like in Chad, where non-governmental organizations were protected by an Irish army company and a Royal Netherlands Marine Corps platoon, the military perceived the local population in Afghanistan as more hostile (Koch, 2010). This hostile attitude of the Afghan population increased the frustrations of the soldiers in the Afghan theatre who were already confused by their conflicting roles in defence, diplomacy and development (NRC Handelsblad, 2010).

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Role Identity: being a warrior or a peacekeeper? As the experiences described above show, it is acknowledged that the role of the military in operations such as Afghanistan certainly differs from the traditional ‘warrior role’. The range of military tasks during these operations is wide. Researchers often categorize current military roles into two main roles; the ‘warrior role’ and ‘peacekeeper role’. This labelling does not only show that military tasks are very diverse but also makes it obvious that role conflicts and negative consequences easily occur, as we saw above. After all, at first sight the two roles seem, at least partly, to conflict. A soldier may or may not be able to identify with both roles. Second, he may have to combine two types of tasks, and may or may not be able to perform these tasks in combination. Finally, a soldier’s role identity can match or not match the actual tasks he has to execute during deployment (Broesder et al., 2010). Evidently, as shown in the above described experiences, for a soldier, the role of peacekeeper can interfere with the role of the warrior and vice versa. Does a soldier feel like a warrior even when he has to perform peacekeeper tasks? Can a soldier ‘trained and proficient in his warrior tasks and drills, ready to deploy, engage and destroy the enemies’ (Soldiers Creed, 2007) still be motivated to guide little Afghan girls to their newly built school? Is it possible for a soldier who has developed friendly relations with the local population as a peacekeeper, to do a weapon-search operation in the same village? The situation in Uruzgan undoubtedly showed the need for soldiers’ multiple role identity. A former NATO Senior Civilian Representative Lansink (2008: 20) stated: Some time ago there was a pointless discussion whether the Western efforts and the Dutch contribution thereto, consisted of a combat mission or a reconstruction mission. There is only one good answer: it is a reconstruction mission with such a military component that the Armed Forces consider it to be a combat mission.

This answer, however, and the experiences show all the more that the military role in Uruzgan was far from clear and unambiguous. What was going to be the main task? Were soldiers deployed to help, to fight, or to do both? And subsequently, did they, as a result, suffer from role strain? To create insight in the consequences of the need for soldiers’ multiple role identity, Broesder et al. (under review) developed the Warrior Peacekeeper Role Identity Index (WPRII). The WPRII is an instrument to assess to what extent soldiers identify with the warrior role as well as with the role of the peacekeeper. The warrior role identity represents for example the conviction that fighting and destroying enemies of the peace process is a soldiers’ main task. Peacekeepers on the other hand are convinced that it is their task to help all people in the mission area and good contacts with all local parties are very important. Instead of assuming that a soldier is more or less warrior and correspondingly less or more peacekeeper as in earlier research (Franke, 1999; Reed and Segal, 2000) the WPRII intended to measure the

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identification with the two roles as two independent dimensions. This assumption turned out to be valid. Soldiers from three different School Battalions (n=585), one of them specifically tasked to train soldiers for combat units, identified with both roles. In other words, soldiers can be both warrior-oriented and peacekeeperoriented. Recent research (Broesder et al., in preparation) followed soldiers from preparation to deployment to Afghanistan, as members of the NATO International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) (n  =  492). Also these soldiers identified with both roles simultaneously and did not show much difference in their peacekeeper role orientation. However, soldiers varied in the extent of identification with the warrior role. Soldiers who were allocated to battle groups identified significantly more with the warrior role than soldiers preparing specifically for reconstruction tasks (PRT) or combat support tasks. As mentioned above, role strain can be the result of a mismatch between several types of possible confrontations. Obviously, a warrior in a war fighting situation will not suffer from role strain. On the other hand, we do expect a warrior suffering role strain when the deployment situation requires mainly peacekeeping tasks. Evidently, role strain can also be the result of identification with the peacekeeper role in a more ‘warrior-like’ situation. In a longitudinal study Broesder et al. (in preparation) explored the relationship between soldiers’ role identity before deployment and the tasks they had to execute during deployment (n=105). By studying the lack of congruence between role identity and tasks during deployment, Broesder et al. (in preparation) found that only soldiers who identified mainly with the warrior role were experiencing role strain when tasks were less ‘warrior-like’. Their scores confirmed that their expectations hadn’t come true and tasks were not what they expected them to be. This role strain affected their motivation and sense of wellbeing. Surprisingly, soldiers identifying with the peacekeeper role didn’t experience role strain at all. Even when tasks were much less ‘peacekeeper-like’ than they expected them to be, these soldiers did not suffer role strain. It appears that identifying with the peacekeeper role is more psychologically rewarding than the warrior role, especially in situations where the warrior role is not clarified with opposition or defence against a well defined enemy or where this warrior role conflicts with military roles of diplomacy and development. This explanation is supported by the findings of Broesder et al. (in preparation) that soldiers identifying with the warrior role suffer from role strain when they are confronted with fewer warrior tasks than expected. However, they do not suffer role strain when the tasks they have to execute during deployment are mainly peacekeeper-tasks. Perhaps the warrior role demands a more specific and pronounced mindset than the peacekeeper role. After all, it is during preparation for deployment soldiers for combat units start to identify more with the warrior role. Being trained and proficient in warrior tasks and drills and acquiring warrior attitudes, may be such an intense and demanding process, that, when expectations do not materialize, this will lead to a high impact disappointment.

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Future directions It appears that more research into role ambiguity is particularly important in understanding role identity and role conflict and the consequences of distress among military personnel. There are some suggestions to broaden the personal resources to minimize the negative impact of role ambiguity and role confusion and to help the psychological well-being of soldiers. Other suggestions concern the influence of the leadership roles and the feedback of leaders to their personnel to minimize the experienced role ambiguity (Beauchamps et al., 2002). Research findings concerning the two roles as two independent dimensions and role strain are important, since the unpredictable nature of modern conflict such as Uruzgan creates high demands for soldiers in terms of adaptability to tasks of a totally different nature. Research results until now imply that – with effective and dedicated training – soldiers are indeed capable of adapting to the nature of their mission while avoiding or minimizing the negative consequences of role strain. Further research with WPRII could validate these results and also create better understanding of the underlying processes of role ambiguity, role identity and role conflict and their consequences for the performance and satisfaction in military units. Finally, education regarding role ambiguity and its consequences seems a fruitful way to share lessons identified and lessons learned for future operations.

References Bartone, P. (2003) Stress in the military setting. In: Cronin, C. (ed.) Military Psychology: An introduction. Boston: Pearson custom publisher. Beard, F.K. (1999) Client role ambiguity and satisfaction in client-ad agency relationships. Journal of business research 24, 253-268. Beauchamps, M.R. and Bray, S.R. (2001) Role ambiguity and role conflict within inter­ dependent teams. Small groups research 32, 133-157. Beauchamps, M.R., Bray, S.R., Eys, M.A. and Carron, A.V. (2002) Role ambiguity, role efficacy, and role performance: Multidimensional and mediational relationships within interdependent sport teams. Group dynamics, theory, research and practice 6, 229-242. Beehr, T.A. and Glazer, S. (2005) Organizational role stress. In: Barling J., Kelloway, E.K. and Frone, M.R. (eds.) Handbook of work stress. Thousand Oaks, Ca: Sage, 7-33. Bliese, P.D. and Castro, C.A. (2003) The soldier adaptation model: applications to peacekeeping research. In: Britt, T.W. and Adler, A.B. (eds.) The psychology of the peacekeeper: Lessons from the field. Westport: Preager Publishers. Boles, J. and Babin, B. (1996) On the front lines: Stress, conflict, and the customer service provider. Journal of business research 37, 41-50. Britt, T.W., Stetz, M.C. and Bliese, P.D. (2004) Work-relevant values strengthen the stressor-strain relation in elite army units. Military psychology 16, 1-17.

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Britt, T.W., Castro, C.A. and Adler, A.B. (2008) Military Life. The psychology of serving in peace and combat. Westport: Praeger Security International. Broesder, W.A., Vogelaar A.L.W., Euwema M.C. and Op den Buijs T.P. (2010) The Peacekeeping Warrior: A Theoretical Model. In: Easton M., Den Boer M, Janssens J., Moelker, M. and Van der Beken, T. (eds.) Blurring military and police roles. The Hague: Eleven International Publishing. Broesder, W.A., Op den Buijs, T.P., Vogelaar A.L.W. and Euwema M.C. (under review) Can Soldiers Combine Swords and Ploughshare? The Warrior-Peacekeeper Role Identity Scale (WPRII). Broesder, W.A., Vogelaar, A.L.W., Euwema, M.C. and Op den Buijs, T.P. (in preparation). Warriors and peacekeepers: A Dual Approach. Antecedents and consequences of military role identity. Cammaert, P.C. (2011) Moral Dilemmas in Military Leadership. In: Meijer, M., Rietveld, N. (eds.) Military leaders facing problematic decision making. Breda: Faculty of Military Sciences. Carron, A.V. and Hausenblas, H. (1998) Group dynamics in sport. Morgantown, WV: Fitness Information Technology. De Kruijf, M.C. (2011) Commandant in Kandahar. Militaire Spectator 180(1), 4-35. Franke, V.C. (1999) Preparing for Peace: Military Identity, Value Orientations, and Professional Military Education. Westport: Praeger Publishers. Grandia Mantas, M. (2010) Provincial Reconstruction Teams. Symbool van NAVO-commitment in Afghanistan of meer? Militaire Spectator 179, 480-492. Gregson, T. & Wendell, J. (1994). Role conflict, role ambiguity, job satisfaction and the moderating effect of job-related self esteem: A latent variable analysis. Journal of applied business research, 10(2), 106-113. Hancock, P.A. and Szalma, J.L. (2008) Performance under stress. Florida: Asghate. Huebner, A.J., Mancini, J.A., Wilcox, R.M., Grass, S.R. and Grass, G.A. (2007) Parental deployment and youth in military families: exploring uncertainty and ambiguous loss. Family relations 56, 112-123. Jackson, S. and Schuler, R. (1985) Revisited (2000): A meta-analysis of the relationships between role ambiguity, role conflict, and job performance. Journal of Management 26, 155-169. Kahn, R.L., Wolfe, D.M., Quinn, R.P., Snoek, J.D. and Rosenthal, R.A. (1964) Occupational Stress: Studies in role conflict and ambiguity. New York: Wiley. Katz, D. and Kahn, R.L. (1978) The social psychology of organizations. New York, John Wiley & Sons. Koch, L. (2010) Attitudes of Dutch combat units in Afghanistan and Chad. Breda: Netherlands Defense Academy. Lansink, H. (2008) Afghanistan is niet alleen militair oplosbaar. Carré 31(3), 20-21. McDougall, L. and Drummond, P.D. (2010) Personal resources moderate the relationship between work stress and psychological strain of submariners. Military Psychology 22(4), 385-398.

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Meijer, M., De Vries, R., and Vermetten, H. (2009) Preliminary report on longitudinal interviews with Netherlands army personnel in NATO ISAF. Breda: Netherlands Defence Academy. Meijer, M. (2010) Cultural Differences and Military Mental Health Care. Netherlands Military Medical Review 63(2), 52-57. NRC Handelsblad (2010) Nederland draagt commando Uruzgan over: Niet streng genoeg geweest in Uruzgan (The Netherlands hands over command in Uruzgan}. NRC Handelsblad (August 1). Op den Buijs, T.P., Andres, M. and Bartone, P. (2010) Managing the well-being of military personnel and their families. In: Soeters, J. Van Fenema, P.C. Beeres, R. (eds.) Managing Military Organizations: Theory and practice. London: Routledge. Reed, B.J. and Segal, D.R. (2000) The impact of multiple deployments on soldiers’ peacekeeping attitudes, morale, and retention. Armed Forces & Society 27(1), 57-78. Rizzo, J.R., House, R.J. and Lirtzman, S.I. (1970) Role conflict and ambiguity in complex organizations. Administrative science quarterly 15, 150-163. Soldiers creed (2007) Available at: http://www.army.mil/thewayahead/creed.html. Tang, Y.T. and Chang, C.H. (2010) Impact of role ambiguity and role conflict on employee creativity. African journal of business management 4(6), 869-881. Theodorakis, N.D., Tsigilis, E.B. and Bebetos, E. (2010) An examination of the factor structure of the Role Ambiguity Scale. Journal of sport behavior 33, 337-355. Van der Woerdt, J. and De la Porte, H. (2008) Het Nederlands Provincional Reconstruction Team: Het concept (The Dutch Provincial Reconstruction Team: The concept). Carré 31(1), 6-9.

9

The use of air power in Uruzgan Guus de Koster

Introduction The way airpower is used to assist ground operations has changed dramatically over the last few decades. A mere twenty years ago a pilot while flying over BosniaHerzegovina would get directions from the Joint Tactical Air Controller (JTAC) to ‘look for the white house with the red roof ’, today the JTAC will look at his laptop and say, ‘If you look about 50 meters to the left of your crosshairs’. The description of the house is fine if it makes a distinguishable feature. However, anyone who has visited Bosnia knows that a great number of houses are white – and most of them have red roofs, too. Technological innovations are to be credited for the illustrated improvement in identification effectiveness. After the attacks on the United States (US) in 2001, the Global War on Terror started with attacks on Al Qaeda hide-outs in the Afghan mountains. From October 2002 to October 2003, the F-16s of the Royal Netherlands Air Force (RNLAF) participated in these operations. In those days the only weapons heavy enough to create the desired weapons effects came from aircraft guided to their targets by only a handful of JTACs that were available in Afghanistan. The Dutch F-16s operated from Manas Air Base, an austere location in Kyrghyzstan. During this period, the F-16s worked in close operation with the US and detachments from the Danish and Norwegian air forces. In that year, the Dutch F-16s flew approximately 5,000 hours, equalling the amount of hours normally produced by two squadrons of fighters in the same timeframe. The major disadvantage of having Manas air base as the deployed location for this unit was the distance to the Afghan theatre. The largest portion of the missions during that period consisted of missions which provided an armed over watch, ready to be tasked if targets were identified that had not gone through normal planning and assignment processes. During the first few months of the conflict, the Northern Alliance, then led by General Abdul Rashid Dostum, had difficulties in their efforts to approach and overthrow the Taliban leadership in Mazar-e Sharif in the North of Afghanistan. Only after the Northern Alliance Forces were augmented by American Special Forces JTAC, air power could be tasked effectively to assist in conquering the city and ultimately in lifting the Taliban from governing Afghanistan (Call, 2007). This

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was a clear demonstration of the ability of air power to be integrated in manoeuvre warfare by ground forces. After the Taliban regime was overthrown by the Northern Alliance in a short and decisive war, heavily assisted by allied air power, the United Nations established the International Security and Assistance Force (ISAF) for Afghanistan and charged ISAF to secure and control the Kabul area. This created an opportunity to locate the F-16s closer to, or even inside the theatre of operations. In various stages in 2004, 2005 and 2006, the responsibility for security in the entire country was mandated to ISAF. This chapter provides some insights in the way the air power assets of the Royal Netherlands Air Force were used in the period the Royal Netherlands Army was charged with the security of the Uruzgan province (2006-2010). Doctrinally, air power was meant to be used various ways ranging from Close Air Support to Strategic Air Operations and Air Assault to Logistical Combat Support. The operators in Afghanistan, however, were faced with operations not described in doctrines or tactical manuals. How did the operators modify their tactics to be of relevance to the ground troops and ultimately the mandate given to ISAF? Without doubt, pragmatic as well as technological solutions created a possibility for improved understanding and co-operation between air- and land units (Pirnie, 2005). Did the new missions or adapted missions find their way through formal or informal methods to the pilot community? Like in every war or conflict, the warriors are limited in their options by the rules of engagement (ROE) and additional national caveats. Did the ROE restrict the operators in such a way that they were limited in their effectiveness? Throughout the conflict, many technological innovations have found their way to the battlefield and also in the cockpits of aircraft and helicopters. In what way did technological innovations assist the pilots in performing their tasks? The operations in Afghanistan were accountable for a great number of flying hours for the fighter aircraft and helicopters of the Royal Netherlands Air Force. This chapter addresses the impact of this operation on the peacetime operation in the Netherlands. Finally, the pilots were faced with new missions but overall the variety of missions was rather limited, resulting in a degradation of the overall mission training level of the pilots. How did the Royal Netherlands Air Force deal with that issue?

Doctrinal or pragmatic? A pilot understands perfectly well that there is a line to be drawn on the ground beyond which the ground forces have no organic means to influence the fight they are in. In a setting like Afghanistan, ground forces in need of support by air assets are travelling light; a heavy machine gun and some mortars will determine the distance the unit can deliver firepower (Hayward, 2009). In a more classic sense, the army’s area of influence can be thought of as linear, paralleling the front of the battle. Since in an operation as ISAF, the ground operations consist of small units

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patrolling through parts of the nation, the linear visualization of the effective ranges of its weapons no longer suffices. One can understand that knowing who is where – and doing what- is very relevant in preventing attacks on one’s own forces. Since the ground forces were charged with the responsibility for the province of Uruzgan, commanded by Regional Command South, it was only logical to deploy the air power assets to the same region. This especially holds true for the rotary wing assets with limited speed and range. To be able to deliver the support required by the ground forces the RNLAF sent F-16s and Chinook and Cougar transport helicopters to Kandahar Airfield and AH-64 Apache helicopters to Tarin Kowt. Since the F-16s had a greater range and could be tasked all over Afghanistan, they were to be tasked by the Combined Air Operations Centre (CAOC) in Quatar through the Air Control Element in ISAF HQ Kabul. For the F-16 community it was a major change in their method of operations. Traditionally, airfields for fixed wing operations had always been a safe distance away from the area of operations. The fixed wing assets require more delicate and vulnerable infrastructure like a runway and taxi tracks than is normally available in a conflict area. In a more traditional conflict, the opponents could attack the airbases used by aircraft and damage the required infrastructure. The opponents in Afghanistan, however, were assessed not to be able to seriously endanger fixed wing operations from inside the area of operations. This obviously called for a very robust force protection organization on the few airbases ISAF was operating from inside Afghanistan. The helicopters, since they were primarily deployed for the support of the Task Force Uruzgan (TFU) and other units of the coalition in the area, were to be tasked by Regional Command South in Kandahar. The co-location of an F-16 and helicopter unit on Kandahar airfield led to the establishment of the Air Task Force (ATF), an organization element structured in such a way to support the air operations of all various platforms without duplicating functions within the supporting elements. This setup proved very effective and also provided better appreciation for aircraft and helicopter-type specific problems and challenges. The Task Force Uruzgan, having its staff on Tarin Kowt, was permanently supported by an Air Liaison Officer (ALO) with an operational F-16 background. His task was mainly to assist the TFU Joint Fires Cell in planning the available aircraft into the army orders and liaise with the JTAC units of the TFU. One other important function of the ALO was to build a solid working relationship with the TFU planners and staff and to explain the possibilities and limitations of air support provided by F-16s. The ALOs all had to actively establish their position in the staff of the TFU. This was also fuelled by the rotation scheme used for pilots, since they have to maintain their currency on various aspects of flying their aircraft; they were rotated every two months. The air force is keen on selling the product of air power and making sure the other components are aware of the capabilities and limitations of air power. At the same time, the ALO position is often filled by someone without having received any formal ALO training. In line with this argument, the ALO designated for a specific deployment often joined the TFU staff only after arriving

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in Uruzgan, not having participated in work-up and integration exercises prior the deployment. Over time a few mission-types were flown that had not been trained in the Netherlands, the airborne escort of road convoys and the route reconnaissance with the targeting pod are a few examples, these missions were of high value to the ground forces. Lessons learned from these missions and also from all the other missions are regularly compiled by the tactics departments of F-16 and helicopter communities and subsequently found their way to formal publications. In past missions operations in urbanized areas were traditionally the domain of the ground forces. However, during operations in Afghanistan, Apaches and even F-16 aircraft were seen in a supporting role during urban operations. Pilots of these aircraft used their optical sensors to be the eyes for the ground forces. The ground forces were able to ‘see’ around the corner by viewing the ROVER data provided by the airborne sensors, thereby allowing manoeuvre warfare with air power. Also because of the use of the ROVER system, the way CAS is coordinated has seen a change. Traditionally, the JTAC would try to get the pilot to visually acquire the target by leading his eyes from large features via smaller landmarks to the intended target. This method sometimes proved very painful, especially if the JTAC was not very proficient in English. Nowadays, the JTAC will generate target coordinates with high accuracy for the pilot and from there, while looking at the ROVER imagery, will fine-tune the intended aim point. This again is an example of a type of operation that is not described in any doctrine but was developed in the operations area. Because of the successful application of this type of cooperation of air power with ground forces it will, in time, find its way into formal documentation. Due to the pragmatic nature of aircrew, weapons effects were analyzed and it was discovered that not all weapons effects were as expected. In-theatre analysis showed that most Afghan buildings were constructed in such as way that the weapons used rendered different effects than could be expected. These observations and subsequent analysis led to some important weapons improvements.

Weapons improvement At the start of the operations in Afghanistan, the F-16 and Apache units were equipped with weapons best suited against armoured targets and hardened buildings. It became apparent quickly that these weapons had only a limited effect on the targets available in Afghanistan. Grape drying huts and hide-outs used by the opposing military force (OMF) were made of different materials than those the current weapons were optimized for. In order to obtain the desired weapon effects and to limit the collateral damage as much as possible, the weapons instructors of both F-16 and Apache studied the effects and experimented with alternative weapons and fuse settings to be able to deliver the best effect with minimal residual damage.

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At the beginning of the operations in Afghanistan, the F-16s were equipped with 500-pound Laser Guided GBU-12 bombs and the 20 mm internal gun. The LGB is a very accurate weapon but is dependent upon the availability of a return of a laser signal. This laser can be provided by the targeting pod of the F-16, an Apache or from a JTAC. The main limitation of laser-guided weapons is that they cannot be used if a layer of clouds obscures the target. Additionally, the GBU-38 allows the pilot to alter fuse settings from the cockpit, an option not available with the GBU12. For these reasons the Royal Netherlands Air Force acquired the GBU-38 GPS guided bomb. During the time in Kandahar, the GBU-38 was fielded and gave the aircrew a lot more flexibility in their weapon options. There have been quite a few situations where the JTAC had a perfect view of a group of OMF, hindering the TFU troops, but the area was covered by clouds and the F-16 pilot was unable to see the ground. In these situations, the JTAC could generate accurate coordinates of the position of the OMF and relay this information to the pilot. The coordinates could be subsequently fed to the F-16 computer and the GBU-38, allowing a precision attack without the pilot being able to see the target. Over time it was observed that the OMF took the confrontation more and more into urbanized areas. The weapons of the F-16 are not optimized for these areas, since a 500-pound bomb, even when dropped very precisely on a given target, still creates some collateral damage. To be able, additionally, to support the ground forces in fights taking place in more urbanized areas, the Dutch Air Force is in the process of procuring the Small Diameter Bomb. This bomb will have a very high accuracy, combined with a limited yield, reducing the risk of collateral damage. The Apache helicopters were traditionally equipped with Hellfire guided missiles optimized for attacking armoured targets. Due to observations of the weapons effects of these types of Hellfires, a procurement effort started to obtain an alternative version of that missile in the Apache’s inventory. This made the Apache more flexible in the targets it is capable of attacking successfully. The cooperation between Apache crews and ground units is doctrinally described. The missions flown by the Apache crews were more or less all within their standard package. Also due to the limited training value on aspects that cannot be trained in the operations area, overall proficiency dropped during the deployment period.

Location of assets For rotary wing assets it has been normal to be located close to the (ground) unit they will be tasked by. For fixed wing assets, being located inside the area of operations is rather new. The first time the RNLAF F-16s were stationed inside Afghanistan was when they moved from Manas to Kabul in March 2005. Due to the fact that the Netherlands accepted responsibility for Uruzgan, the airfield of Kandahar was the best option to deploy the F-16s and transport helicopters to.

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During the time the F-16s were deployed to Kandahar, two of the F-16s were on Quick Reaction Alert (QRA). This means they can be ordered to fly and assist ground forces on very short notice. Most times the QRA was tasked, the aircraft were airborne within 20 minutes and overhead the TIC within 30 minutes. The quick response by these assets greatly improved the confidence of ground forces in the F-16 community. The use of different location has had an unwanted effect; some of the ALOs indicated during interviews (Anonymous, 2011a) that the ground forces were somewhat reluctant to believe that fixed wing air power would be available when they would be in need of it. Many times fixed wing air support was available without the soldier on the ground actually seeing the aircraft. One has to understand that the tasking to support a TIC in a certain area may very well be just a part of the mission the aircrew is scheduled for that day. It is very well possible that in addition to helping out with a TIC situation, the aircraft are tasked to provide armed over watch or execute a route reconnaissance for a convoy taking place the next day. The effect generated by the aircraft compensated in the end to ensure the faith of the ground forces in the availability and accuracy of fixed wing air power. The scepticism of the ground forces is understandable and it is a very important task of the ALO to explain the difference between theatre and regional assets. One of the myths that needs to be clarified is that fighter pilots, after being tasked in support of a TIC, sometimes give the impression of it all being ‘another day at the office’. Ground forces have indicated they do not understand such an attitude and they regard it as if the aircrew were indifferent about the role and responsibility they had. The fact that the fixed wing theatre assets fly all over the ISAF area and can be tasked in all corners of Afghanistan, means that they are almost constantly involved in assisting ground forces in TIC situations, be it in Helmand, Kabul or Uruzgan. The fact that they sometimes have to assist Dutch ground forces means business as usual for the air crew, while the ground forces may be in their first TIC situation. For the pilots, a TIC is a TIC and they want to help out as best as they possibly can. At the same time, the AH64 Apache helicopters, located in Tarin Kowt, were often regarded by the TFU as their assets. In reality, the rotary wing assets were allocated to Regional Command South with its headquarters in Kandahar and responsible for more than just Uruzgan and therefore made available as regional assets. This misunderstanding has caused some friction between the TFU and the ATF. Often the ALO saw it his task to explain why certain arrangements were in place. The deployment locations of the ATF as well as the TFU were in areas of Afghanistan that could not be classified as benign. This meant the logistical sustainment of the operation was a challenge and road convoys, supporting the deployments, were often attacked by OMF or hindered by roadside bombs and IEDs.

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A Lifeline to sustain the operations Assets located further from the actual area of operations were stationed at Mirage Air Force Base in the United Emirates. The strategic transport assets such as the KDC-10 flew to Mirage, were the Air Force set up a Forward Support Element (FSE), responsible for the reception and onward movement of cargo and passengers to and from Uruzgan. The danger for the strategic transport assets when landing in Kandahar were assessed as too high and resulted in the establishment of the FSE. In addition, Kandahar had a runway that could handle aircraft such as the KDC-10; the runway available at Tarin Kowt was nothing more than a big dirt strip, therefore not suitable for operations with a KDC-10. For the ongoing transport into Afghanistan, the air force deployed a C-130 to Mirage from January 2009 until April 2011. In that timeframe some 30,000 passengers were handled together with approximately 2 million tons of cargo. Inside Afghanistan, rotary wing transport assets such as the Cougar and Chinook helicopters were tasked to fly sustainment flights to all the deployed locations on a regular basis. During the time of the Uruzgan deployment, the Cougars flew over 5,000 hours and the Chinooks close to 3,000 hours in support of the ground forces. The non-linear nature of the operations area together with the lack of roads warranted logistical support through the air. In addition the roads were increasingly targeted by the OMF by roadside bombs or other forms of IEDs, thereby endangering the transport capability by truck. Air Mobility became a very prominent form of Supporting Air Operations. As a result of the importance of the capability to transport cargo and troops through the air in non-linear conflicts, we now see a tendency to regard Air Mobility as a separate category in Air Operations rather than a subtask in Supporting Air Operations.

Rules of Engagement, Amplifying Guidance or handcuffs The Rules of Engagement (ROE) for the ISAF operations have been subject to a few changes since ISAF and the first set of ROE were created. In addition, most nations added some national caveats to the ROE to give more guidance to their forces or limit the freedom of explanation of the ROE in accordance with national law. The ROE issued to the ISAF forces provided ample freedom to allow effective operations by ISAF forces. The national caveats issued by the Netherlands government did not hamper the military options either in relation to the limitation imposed on other nations. Remarkable however, was a note in the message that formalized the Transfer of Authority of the Dutch assets to be commanded by ISAF. This particular note indicated that if the Dutch Contingency Commander felt that air power was withheld from Dutch ground forces in a critical situation, he then could call for all required Dutch air assets to be placed under national command

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again. The rationale for this note was the experience of Srebrenica in 1995. During the operations of UNPROFOR, the Serb forces threatened the Dutch peacekeepers and all male citizens of Srebrenica were killed by the Serb forces. UNPROFOR tried to call in air support but the complicated command structure delayed the timely and effective employment of airpower to prevent the massacre. Due to this traumatic experience, the Dutch government required a construction that would guarantee the availability of air power to support Dutch ground forces. During the operations in Uruzgan the ROE, according to the pilots, were formulated in such a manner that they gave enough guidance to the operators without limiting them to the extent that weapons employment was nearly impossible. During the operations, aircrews were aware of the ‘recruiting’ techniques used by the OMF where citizens of villages were forced to engage ISAF on the penalty of having their family killed by the OMF. This knowledge did initially constrain the pilots when asked to deliver a bomb in support of ground forces under attack. Later, when this issue was discussed with the legal advisors of the detachments, this reluctance to engage anyone trying to harm ISAF ground forces resided. The Dutch pilots, regardless of aircraft type, have always been very aware of the fact that certain situations could be solved by other than kinetic means, thereby minimizing collateral damage. Some of the nations deployed to Afghanistan were only interested in the kinetic effects provided by air power. Over time however, it was clear that even the mere presence in the air above a TIC situation could relieve the forces. If just being there was not convincing enough, a Show of Force could be conducted in which an aircraft would fly over the OMF with a lot of noise and at high speed. Even the delivery of warning shots by the aircraft gun are to be considered before the ultimate step in escalation should be taken, the delivery of a precision weapon. The theory behind this is that you have to describe the desired effect you want to achieve and then find the correct way to achieve that effect.

Chora, climax or business as usual? June 2007 marked a significant event for the ground forces of the TFU. Intelligence indicated that the town of Chora was going to be attacked by OMF within a few weeks. The TFU started planning for the operation to counter the OMF achieving their target. The ALO had to actively ‘sell’ air power and educate the planners in how to incorporate the use of air power at such an early stage of the planning process. In the early morning hours of June 15, a USAF A-10 spotted a significant group of people moving towards Chora. They moved in a tactical fashion which made the group very suspicious. The following actions of the Battle Group are discussed in this chapter. However, the role and assistance of air power was essential to the successful outcome of this operation. Throughout the day a combination of artillery and air support was provided to hinder the approach of the OMF and assist the battle group in clearing and holding Chora. As part of an effort not to give away how

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many aircraft the JTAC could make use of, the holding for the fixed wing assets was located well south of Chora, but within a very short flying time for these assets: normal flying speeds for fighter type aircraft are approximately equal to a ground distance covered of roughly 14 kilometers per minute. In the days to follow, air power was constantly made available in support of the Battle Group. Only at one stage was the C-TFU challenged to contact the Contingent Commander to take back national control over the Dutch assets as ISAF almost withdrew the air support for this operation. By making use of informal contacts in the ISAF headquarters, the ATF and ALO were able to revert the withdrawal and full support was available again. In the days and nights the battle for Chora lasted, 86 sorties of air power were provided by ISAF units with a great variety of aircraft types. Of these sorties, the Dutch F-16s flew 18 and delivered 21 of the 67 bombs that were delivered, claiming a significant share of the action. Throughout the ISAF area, aircraft of the coalition had been fighting OMF for weeks and saw weapons employment on a near daily basis. The fact that the support given for the operations around Chora was in support of fellow countrymen did make the crews run a little bit faster. But in the end it was business as usual, or as the pilots used to say: ‘just another day in the office’.

The McChrystal Directives Over the years the kinetic actions of ISAF aircraft and helicopters were very effective against the OMF, but also responsible for the majority of civilian casualties. This, of course, caused irritation in the Afghan government as well as the international community. One of the reasons for the high number of civilian casualties was the fact that the OMF were taking the fight more and more into the villages and qualas, also forcing Afghan villagers to take up arms against the ISAF troops (Human Rights Watch, 2008). As a result of this, the Commander of ISAF, General McChrystal, issued a directive in July 2009 to instruct air crew to better use their position as an observer to better judge the situation and assess more carefully if a bomb would be the best way to assist the forces on the ground who were calling for assistance. This directive was later updated by his successor General Petraeus, who went as far as to require commanders to ascertain that no civilians were present before a strike would be authorized (ISAF Public Affairs Office, 2011). It is remarkable, however, that since 2007, the rate of weapon use per sortie has dropped from 10.8% to 5.4% in 2010, indicating that aircrew are more careful about using weapons and may revert to other options to end a threatening situation for ISAF troops. In the same line the civilian casualties caused by ISAF air power have dropped from 0.21% per CAS sortie in 2007 to 0.09% in 2010 (Combined Forces Air Component Commander, 2011).

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Technological innovations

The Royal Netherlands Air Force is internationally known for a high standard of technology adaptation in its fleet of aircraft and helicopters. During the ISAF operations, personnel of the requirements and procurement branches in the Netherlands worked closely together with the operators in Afghanistan to ensure the highest level of technology would be available in the cockpits as was verified by interviews (Anonymous, 2011b). Shortly after the deployment to Afghanistan, the Dutch F-16s were retrofitted with the Advanced Targeting Pod, giving higher accuracy and more options. One of the additional options was the installation of the ROVER system, allowing the real time transmission of the TGP imagery to a laptop terminal used by a JTAC. This way, the JTAC could actually see the same picture as the pilot. The last few years has seen a tendency of the OMF to take the confrontation into the urbanized areas. One of the greatest difficulties of providing support to ground forces in urbanized areas from the air is orientation; where are the friendly forces and where are the OMF? To reduce the amount of radio transmissions and time required to ensure that all players were on the same information level, most of the Afghan villages were mapped in so-called ‘spot maps’. The maps gave a unique number to all buildings in that village and provided coordinates of all these buildings. Normally if F-16s were to fly over Afghanistan, the spot maps of the areas most likely to be tasked in were carried in the cockpit. When a pilot was tasked to assist ground forces operating in a village the radio traffic could be limited to ‘we are at building five, moving to building ten, we are presently receiving fire from building twelve, please monitor’. Before this system was operational the layout had to be verified and be explained verbally, requiring much more time. The newest development is that all these spot maps are now digitized and carried along in a tablet computer certified for use in the cockpit. While some of the technologies have reached the cockpit and the operator, many innovations are still required to operate even more effectively. Since the opponents are getting equally smarter, we need to be able to maintain a step ahead. Since the OMF are seen to make increasing use of hidden weapons and IEDs, causing a significant number of victims, great effort should be put in countering these efforts (Vick, 2006). The introduction of the Recce Lite system is one of the steps to be taken to better defend our troops against the IED threat. Fielded only halfway through 2010, the Recce Lite reconnaissance pod and its imagery analysts have been tasked almost continuously. The images created by the pod can be transmitted near real time to a ground control station. In this Ground Control System, imagery analysts can start working on the images even prior to the landing of the aircraft, leading to quicker results.

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Impressive production rates During the operations in Afghanistan in support of the ISAF mission, aircraft and helicopters of the RNLAF have accumulated a great number of flying hours. Since the yearly flying hour production of the air force is a fixed number, hours flown for ISAF have to be subtracted from the number of hours that can be flown elsewhere. The Dutch F-16s have been in Afghanistan almost constantly from 2002 on and since 2005 they have been in theatre permanently, being tasked to support ISAF operations. Since 2005 they have accumulated roughly 17,000 flying hours in over 7,000 sorties; most of these hours were flown during CAS missions (MoD, 2011). Recently the fielding of the Recce Lite system saw an increase in reconnaissance requests leading already to approximately 1,500 flying hours and producing over 1.5 million images with the Recce Lite pod (Koninklijke Luchtmacht, 2011). During all the missions flown in support of ISAF the F-16s delivered approximately 500 bombs of various types, all precision guided and using approximately 50,000 rounds of 20 mm ammunition with their internal gun. The transport helicopters, Chinook and Cougar, have played a significant role in providing a lifeline between the bases of the TFU and the forward positions of the patrols. To fulfil this task the Cougars have accumulated roughly 5,000 hours and the Chinooks over 3,000 hours. To protect the transport helicopters, RC South tasked the Apache attack helicopters to provide aerial escort. For this task the Apache helicopters flew approximately 1,600 hours. The total amount of hours flown by the Apaches is of course greater: some 7,000 hours in the period 2005-2010 (Rijksoverheid, 2010). Most of the hours were generated by being tasked for QRF, the quick reaction force on call from Tarin Kowt to provide assistance to ground forces in unforeseen TIC situations. During the time the Apaches were tasked for various ISAF missions they fired over 200 Hellfire missiles, more than 2,300 rockets and fired over 5,500 rounds of 30 mm ammunition with their gun. The high number of hours flown in Afghanistan consumed a great deal of flying hours normally flown in the Netherlands for the currency- and upgrade training of pilots. The numbers left to fly for these missions were reduced in the time the aircraft were deployed to Afghanistan. Another aspect which is often overlooked is the fact that due to the operating environment with a lot of very fine dust, the aircraft tend to show significantly more signs of wear and tear than with operations in more moderate climate areas. This caused the air force to alter inspection schedules for deployed aircraft and modify component replacement intervals.

Limited training value for pilots Operations in Afghanistan are not hindered by attempts of the opponents to challenge our freedom of movement in the air. The pilots of the RNLAF are required to

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be trained for- and proficient in a great variety of mission types. During the operations in Afghanistan, only a limited amount of these missions was executed, thereby not challenging the pilots on their ability and training level to perform other types of missions. The air force still required pilots to be able to fly missions throughout the spectrum with great proficiency. A prolonged period in an area where only a very limited part of that spectrum is offered will obviously have a negative effect on the ability to execute the missions not required in Afghanistan. This realization led to the introduction of a reduced but more frequent rotation schedule for the pilots of the Royal Netherlands Air Force.

Results from the past are no guarantee for the future The role of airpower in counter insurgency operations as ISAF is often debated. The experiences from the past few years however, tend to suggest that we cannot do without. For various reasons, the army units are sent out as lightly armoured as possible. They are also being deployed to the most austere places in the world. These two issues combined validate the engagement of air power in coin operations. While air power during the Vietnam War did not produce the desired effects, in contemporary operations such as ISAF, this has dramatically changed. Due to technological innovations and methods of operations developed to better suit the situation at hand, as described above, air power has more than proven its value. Capable of sustaining logistical lifelines and having sensors and weapons accessible for air- and ground commanders in rural and urban environments, air power now is an integrated part of the coin forces rather than merely fire support for the ground forces. The next conflict we find ourselves engaged in may be very different and be fought against a very potent and capable opponent. We should better be prepared for all eventualities and not caught by surprise to realize we have lost the capability to counter a more capable opponent.

References Anonymous (2011a) ALO in Afghanistan (A. de Koster, Interviewer). Anonymous (2011b) F-16 TACTESS (A. de Koster, Interviewer). Call, S. (2007) Danger Close. Williams-Ford Texas: Texas A&M University Press. Combined Forces Air Component Commander (2011) 2007-2010 Airpower Statistics. Available at: http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/library/report/2011/cfacc_2007-2010_afd101214-006.pdf Hayward (ed.) J. (2009) Air Power, Insurgency and the “War on Terror”. Lincolnshire: Royal Air Force Centre for Air Power Studies.

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Human Rights Watch (2008) Troops in Contact. New York: Human Rights Watch. ISAF Public Affairs Office (2011). General Petraeus updates guidance on use of force. Available at: http://www.centcom.mil/en/news/gen-petraeus-updates-guidance-on-use-of-force. Koninklijke Luchtmacht (2011). Reccelite schiet raak (Reccelite hits the target). De Vliegende Hollander 3,16-18. MoD (2011) 7000ste F-16 vlucht boven Afghanistan. Available at: http://www.defensie.nl/ luchtmacht/actueel/nieuws/2011/03/16/46179948/7000ste_F_16_vlucht_boven_Afghanistan. Pirnie, B.R. (2005) Beyond Close Air Support. Arlington: RAND. Rijksoverheid (2010) Apaches beëindigen missie in Afghanistan (Apaches end mission Afghanistan). Available at: http://www.rijksoverheid.nl/nieuws/2010/11/12/apaches-beeindigenmissie-in-afghanistan-video.html. Vick, A.J. (2006) Air Power in the New Counter Insurgency Era. Arlington: RAND.

10

Vipers or tigers? Early Dutch special forces operations in Uruzgan Michiel de Weger

Introduction Few larger academic studies have been done on the work of Special Forces (SF). Most of the publications on these secretive and ‘sexy’ organizations are autobiographical or straightforward (historians’) descriptions of operations. Many of these discuss American or British units. Only a few have tried to develop theories in this field of military operational studies (Kiras, 2006; McRaven, 1995). Except for (master) theses and articles in military journals the topic has more or less escaped academic attention in the Netherlands, too. Only one book exists on Dutch SF (Krijger and Elands, 1997). It provides an overview of the history of the Army’s Korps Commandotroepen (KCT) since its creation during the Second World War. The activities of Dutch SF in Uruzgan have received far less attention in the Dutch press and academic publications than the mission and work of Dutch regular military forces. In this chapter the focus is on the former, the more secretive and highly trained military men of Task Force Viper, as they were called; far less numerous, but for the Dutch military success in the Afghan province probably equally important. At first they were the only ones to leave camp and go into the valleys and towns. In their two years in Uruzgan Dutch SF had more enemy contacts than any other Dutch military units. Moreover, they were the only unit to operate outside the three villages the Dutch came to control, providing information on and disrupting enemy activities as much as possible. The role of Dutch SF is analyzed in this contribution to this book on Dutch military operations in Uruzgan. In separate sections three questions will be answered. First, what does the case of the Dutch SF in the province tell about multinational and other forms of cooperation? Second, what does it tell about the nature of the Dutch mission in Uruzgan; did SF have an emphasis on reconstruction or on combat? Third, how ‘special’ were Viper’s operations? As Tucker and Lamb (2007) and Rothstein (2006) argue: Western SF are not all that special. In their view SF are merely ‘hyper conventional forces’; extremely well-trained, but not an entirely different kind of military unit. According to these authors SF are suffering from a

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‘conventional forces bias’ as top military leaders rather use them for difficult, but nevertheless regular infantry activity. Does the case of Viper support this claim and would the Dutch SF have done better to call themselves tigers, lions or another kind of very dangerous animal that fights in a more regular fashion?

Background The Netherlands has an elaborated system of military SF, consisting of KCT and the Navy’s Maritime Special Operations Forces (MarSOF) – which also has domestic counterterrorism as a task. In addition, the Royal Marechaussee, a force similar to the French Gendarmerie, has as a special unit: the Brigade Speciale Beveiligingsopdrachten (BSB). KCT and MarSOF – also used for operations on land – have, combined, about 450 ‘operators’, as the deployable SF-military personnel often are referred to. These can be supported for this purpose by specially trained units of the Netherlands Marine Corps and the Army’s Air Mobile Brigade – which will also not be a focus in this contribution. In case of separate, ‘SF-only’ operations the Dutch government follows a special procedure to receive approval of Parliament. In this procedure the most involved ministers provide classified information to only the leaders of political parties in the Second Chamber, which they are not allowed to share with anyone. As Viper was part of the larger military mission to Uruzgan, however, political decision-making in ‘The Hague’ was part of the regular mandate. The Viper-period was not the only Dutch SF operation in Afghanistan. KCT was deployed in Kabul from January 2002 till August 2003. The unit was highly active in providing reconnaissance on the city’s surrounding area. It was often involved in VIP- and site security operations for the many officials – Dutch and of other nationalities – visiting and conferencing in Kabul. In addition, KCT on many occasions manned hidden observation posts and raided illegal weapons storage locations (Wohlgetan, 2008). Much less has been made public on the Dutch SF operation in Kandahar province from April 2005 till April 2006. Covering the two sparsely populated districts of Shorawak and Registan, KCT and MarSOF seem to have patrolled a lot, but raided a little before being sent to the province of Uruzgan. Here the two actually made four distinguishable contributions to Dutch military operations. Dutch SF were part of the Deployment Task Force (DTF) that was in Uruzgan from March until August 2006. While other units built Camp Holland, Viper went out into nearby Tarin Kowt, the other villages of Deh Rawod and Chora (none of the three having more than 10,000 inhabitants, but nevertheless the most populated areas of Uruzgan) and the valleys between and surrounding them. As will be illustrated in the following sections, in this period Taliban forces were present in considerable numbers and Viper wasted no time in confronting them. Dutch SF remained in Uruzgan as DTF was replaced by Task Force Uruzgan (TFU) in August 2006. For some reason not made public Viper left Uruzgan in December 2007. In

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this one-and-a-half year period it also fought Taliban forces on dozens of occasions and provided valuable information on enemy activities in and outside the three villages. As regular Dutch military units deployed into smaller camps and operating bases in and around Chora, Tarin Kowt and Deh Rawod, Viper was used more and more to cover the valleys and mountainous areas of the rest of the southern part of the province. Third, MarSOF provided a small number of operators to work in TFU’s Operational Mentoring and Liaison Teams (2007-2008). These were used to train, but on many occasions also led or at least fought Taliban forces with their newly created Afghan National Army mentored units. After being absent for a little over a year KCT and MarSOF returned to Uruzgan with a few dozen men for the last one and a half years of TFU (March 2009-September 2010). This time they operated under the name of Task Force 55 and were under command of ISAF in Kabul, not the Dutch TFU. Much less has been published on Dutch SF activities in this period, but focus seems to have been on raiding specific locations in and around the areas by then firmly under control of the Dutch and allies’ regular military forces. The focus of this chapter is on the first two contributions (March 2006-December 2007). With five rotations of about 40 operators, KCT and MarSOF in this period contributed most to overall Dutch military presence in Uruzgan. More than fifty Viper operations are mentioned in various public sources. As many readers cannot be expected to be familiar with SF operations, one of these is described here in more detail. The following report of an operation in spring or summer 2006 – the precise dates are not mentioned in sources available – seems to be representative of the kind of work the unit did in the early years of its deployment in Uruzgan. It provides an impression of the heavy fighting that took place so often. It also makes clear Viper cooperated intensively with Australian SF and allied air forces.

Operation near Chora Several Viper-teams, accompanied by Australian SF, drove to the valley in which the village of Chora is situated. Their goal was to attack Taliban forces present in a number of compounds in the area. The group set up camp north of the valley. At night they went on foot towards what they knew were the first enemy positions. With an AC-130 combat aircraft nearby to assist if necessary, at only 25 meters distance the Dutch opened fire. A second enemy unit closed in from the north and attacked, while the SF were also fired upon from further away. Still moving forward the Dutch got into an exchange of fire with dozens of enemy fighters some 200 meters in front of them. This fight continued for some time. Despite ‘considerable’ losses their adversaries tried to outflank the Dutch. Knowing the terrain and helped by the moonlight the Taliban were able to increase pressure on the Dutch to the extent that the Viper commander decided to ask the AC-130 to intervene – despite the high risks of his own men being hit because of the proximity of the enemy. The

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air attack lasted several minutes, after which the SF moved forward to the position where (Dutch) infantry had arrived according to operation plans (DTF, 2007). The fight had lasted so long that plans for the remainder of the night had to be adjusted: only two compounds could still be visited. Closing in, these proved to be abandoned, probably during the AC-130’s attack. The SF settled in the second compound, positioning themselves on the roofs. Shortly after they were attacked with small caliber weapons and rocket propelled grenades from three sides. By this time the sun had risen and the Dutch had used so much ammunition they were forced to fire back rather selectively. Again airstrikes were called in. This time an A-10 brought relief to the Dutch. The next day Viper went back along the route, visiting the two sites they had not been able to go to before. These were also deserted. Around noon Viper was attacked heavily once again. Dutch snipers positioned on higher grounds acknowledged that enemy forces had closed in through dense vegetation, coming as close as 250 meters. Suddenly fighters popped up only 25 meters away. The operators threw hand grenades at them. Air support arrived, guided by the tactical air controller of the Dutch unit. After two hours of fighting the air force made an end of it. The rest of the day and during the night that followed Viper had no contact with enemy forces. Plans were made to attack a next target, using aerial photographs and maquettes. This time an infantry reconnaissance unit visited it first. Because no dedicated air support would be available the plan was not executed that night. The next day Viper moved forward on foot. To get to the target without being detected the men had to climb a number of mountain ridges. As sunrise approached the Viper commander decided to enter a number of smaller compounds surrounding the target. One of these proved to be some sort of hospital. After some time the Dutch heard heavy explosions south of their own position. Advancing ‘coalition forces’ had run into enemy contact there. The Dutch got ready to assist, but air strikes ended the fighting, in which one member of the coalition partner was killed, before Viper arrived. As the enemy seemed to have taken well chosen positions in the valley ahead, the Dutch chose to wait for nightfall and then try to outflank their adversary. As they moved forward enemy communication messages were intercepted, while aircraft also indicated enemy presence ahead. Closing in, Viper actually saw fighters and ordered the air force to attack. A number of buildings were bombed, including one that, judged by the explosion, could have been used to store ammunition. After sunrise the SF moved in and combed through the complex that by then was completely deserted (DTF, 2007). At the end of the afternoon Viper reached and searched the next target. At night it went on foot towards the end of the Chora Valley and the entrance to the Baluchi Pass. The Baluchi Pass had two roads coming through, dense vegetation and was only 500 meters wide: an ideal place for an ambush. As the Dutch walked through the pass they were not attacked, however, after which they waited in all calm for daybreak and infantry to arrive. The by now very tired men moved back through the pass towards their last target: a compound to the west of the village of Khurma. Telephone conversations that intelligence had tapped had indicated this was an

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important enemy location. To maximize the surprise, Viper waited for nightfall to attack. By foot it climbed a 300-meter hill west of the complex. Using explosives the Dutch blew a hole in the wall surrounding it. Moving in they encountered another wall, which they had not seen on aerial photographs made available. Once again explosives were used. Choosing security over speed the Viper commander had his men move through all chambers, hallways, cellars, sheds and courts of the complex one-by-one. This took two hours. All Taliban had fled. At noon infantry arrived and Viper could return to camp (DTF, 2007).

Cooperation with Australian SF The operation near Chora described above is only one example of what seems to have been close cooperation between Dutch and Australian SF in Uruzgan. The following, much shorter fragments, further illustrate the excellent bi-national cooperation between the two, including during heavy combat action. For several reasons ‘multinational’ cooperation between SF units can be expected to be less of a problem than between regular military forces. First, as can be read in many short articles in military magazines, Western SF have a high frequency of participating in international training courses and exercises. Australian SF are no strangers in this circuit. Second, being small units with rather low-tech equipment (in comparison to fighter planes, warships and tanks), cooperation between SF units is not that complicated, requiring far less standardization or communication. Staying out of each other’s line of fire during manoeuvring seems to be the most challenging. Third, among Western SF the US and UK units are widely regarded as being the most advanced and experienced, setting the standard for all the others. The following fragment shows just how close the Dutch and Australian SF cooperated. In a life threatening situation the Australians temporarily became highly dependent on Viper. On April 28, 2006, Dutch and Australian SF took positions near the village of Surkh Murgab, a Taliban stronghold, 15 kilometres north from Camp Holland in Tarin Kowt. Both units were continuously being shot at with small calibre weapons and rocket-propelled grenades (RPGs). The Australians broke off the fight and the Dutch covered their retreat. An Australian vehicle got stuck in the terrain, resulting in intensive Taliban shooting. The Dutch opened a ‘massive’ firing barrage to draw attention away, allowing their partners to pick up their colleagues and retreat with Viper (MoD, 2009). The following is another example of close combat cooperation between the two SF units, with the Dutch possibly saving the life of at least one Australian. On June 1, 2006, Viper was in Chora aiming to chart Taliban positions. The night before the operation started the SF saw a group of about fifty men leave on foot towards Tarin Kowt. As these proved to be Afghan policemen the Dutch concluded that Chora had been taken by Taliban forces. Being spotted from the village the SF opened fire, after which they were also targeted from the mountains with mortars, RPGs and

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missiles. The Dutch commander decided to retreat. While doing so, a member of an Australian partner unit was hit. The Dutch gave orders to move forward again, allowing the Australians to have their colleague be evacuated by helicopter (MoD, 2009). The last fragment in this section is another chilling account of the heavy combat the Dutch and Australian SF experienced together during their first months in Uruzgan. On July 13, 2006, about 30 Dutch and Australian SF went on foot for 40 kilometres from Chora to Tarin Kowt to drive out Taliban forces from a number of strongholds. Somewhere along the route they came upon a group digging in improvised explosive devices (IEDs), which is military lingo for non-military bombs. A short distance exchange of fire was the result. The number of enemy fighters turned out to be so high the SF were threatened with their lives. An American AC-130 plane flying in the area reported that the group was being surrounded. Despite the enemy being so close to his own men, the Dutch commander asked the American plane to intervene, which fired upon the enemy with grenades for ten minutes. The remaining Taliban fighters fled. Viper moved on quickly to the village of Kala Kala and for another three nights overran a number of compounds in the area. Taliban forces tried to regain territory. The Dutch and Australian platoons were on their own and attacked continuously. They had to sleep in compounds surrounded by enemy forces. After four days the Taliban gave up. The SF reached Tarin Kowt on day eight. 200-300 Taliban and Al-Qaeda fighters were killed. The coalition suffered one dead and nine wounded, among them no Dutchmen. Ten Afghan civilians were killed, too (Karskens, 2009; MoD, 2009). Accounts like these make one wonder why so few (Dutch) SF died in combat in Uruzgan. Can it explained by the poor skills of the enemy? By pure luck? Or, the skills of the SF or their close multinational cooperation? Probably all have contributed to some degree.

Cooperation with air forces The second most important form of multinational cooperation for Viper seems to have been the support of air assets (i.e., planes, helicopters and unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs)). As was the case in a few of the fragments in the previous section, pilots have saved Dutch (and Australian) SF from enemy forces outnumbering and encircling them on a number of occasions. Calling in air support seems to have happened dozens of times during the Viper period. Having air assets around – probably – was the standard way of operating. The need for calling in air support (and in some cases the assistance of the Dutch howitzers at Camp Holland) indicate the ‘Achilles Heel’ of all SF units. Despite being formidable fighters, at a certain ratio with enemy combatants they simply become outnumbered. For this reason working with air assets is a regular feature in training and exercises of SF units like the Dutch. Many SF units include forward air controllers specialized in communicating with and guiding pilots in attacks on enemy targets. Air transport

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is also crucial for SF, especially for raids on objects in enemy held territory, which is usually done with helicopters. Viper does not seem to have experienced much of these kind of operations, however. The Royal Netherlands Air Force at the time had Apache attack helicopters at Camp Holland in Tarin Kowt and flew F-16 planes from Kandahar Airfield as part of ISAF daily or preplanned (as part of specific operations) flight schedules. Most of the planes and helicopters flying over Uruzgan – and the rest of Afghanistan, were American, however, and specific types, like the AC-130 and B-1, were only used by the US Air Force. A few more fragments serve to fully comprehend the crucial role of close and efficient cooperation with air forces. The following accounts also make clear that this kind of (international) cooperation in combat went extremely well in the early, extremely dangerous conditions of southern Uruzgan in 2006 and 2007. This fragment illustrates that Viper on some occasions was supported by both attack helicopters and airplanes: on June 23, 2006, during a reconnaissance operation north of Tarin Kowt, Viper got into heavy fighting. Being shot at with antitank grenades and small arms, Dutch Apaches and allied planes provided assistance. The enemy ‘probably’ suffered casualties (de Volkskrant, 2006; Trouw, 2006). In some cases air attacks were called in to prevent SF being attacked. In June 2006, a Viper-platoon went on a six-day patrol with a platoon size ‘friendly unit’. The aim was to establish whether Taliban forces were present in Chora. On the second day enemy forces were spotted, including on hillsides. As the number of enemy fighters increased, the coalition unit asked for air support. A bomber plane arrived. A Dutch tactical air controller guided it in its attack, which killed and wounded a number of Taliban (Anonymous, 2007). The following fragment illustrates the importance of aerial reconnaissance and observation for (Dutch) SF – although in the end it is an air attack, allowing Viper to escape from a very dangerous situation. On October 12, 2006, Viper moved with American and Afghan forces to the village of Wanu, just 4 kilometres north of the Dutch base in Tarin Kowt, as different sources indicated an IED-maker would be there. Using aerial photographs and UAV-images the SF raided the compound from three directions. It proved to be empty. On their way back, an Afghan military vehicle drove on an IED. The group was fired upon from all sides. As their opponents were so close to them no air support was called on. The UAV had to return to base, the howitzer there could not be used and it would take at least another 90 minutes before Apache-helicopters would arrive. With two dead and six wounded Afghan soldiers and rapidly diminishing ammunition levels the group decided to try to get away in a westerly direction via the bridge over the Terih Rud River. A B1-bomber flew over very low and dropped flares, suppressing enemy fire a little. When most men had passed the bridge the plane dropped a 2000-pound bomb on the cornfield where a large number of enemy fighters were located. Driving through the shallow waters and on the banks of the river, being shot at from both sides and constantly firing back, the column got away (Commandant 104, 2007).

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Viper took part in the ‘Battle for Chora’ that lasted from June 15 to 19, 2007. Taliban forces penetrated the village, forcing TFU regular military units to intervene on an unprecedented and later on unparalleled large scale and fight off the enemy. The role of Dutch SF in this more or less unique episode in Dutch military presence in Uruzgan deserves mentioning anyway, but the summary below is focused on the crucial role of air support. In this case the Dutch howitzer at Camp Holland also plays an important role. The fragment presented here starts during the night of June 18. Viper moved back towards the Baluchi Valley, as pressure on TFU in Chora mounted once more. The Dutch howitzer and airplanes fired at several targets near the Baluchi Pass, guided by SF. In the early morning the larger part of Viper arrived, just about immediately engaging in heavy fighting. Enemy forces had set up a defence perimeter. Firing and covering each other, Viper crossed 300 meters of flat terrain, while the howitzer and aircraft kept attacking. Once they were in the greenzone the situation turned critical for the Dutch. The enemy was so exhausted it called for backup from Chora. About 150 to 200 new fighters arrived and soon joined in the battle. Air support and the howitzer narrowly prevented the Dutch SF from being surrounded by enemy forces which outnumbered them by far. Ammunition had been used at unacceptably low levels. Resupplying the men was thought to be too dangerous, so the commander decided to withdraw. As the howitzer and two American F-18s bombed enemy positions, the Dutch fought their way out of the green zone (Anonymous, 2008).

Limited reconstruction efforts Reviewing the literature and media reports it becomes clear that, at least in these first years in Uruzgan, the Dutch SF did little to help (re)build the villages under Dutch military protection, support the insertion of modern rule of law systems, improve roads, agriculture, governance or medical systems. SF are capable of these kinds of reconstruction efforts, albeit on a small scale because of their limited size, and have done so during many operations since their creation during the Second World War. In the classical SF counterinsurgency approach efforts like these are aimed to ‘win hearts and minds’ to start supporting the government – or the rebel side, depending on who SF is sent to support. Campaigns to support the government in SF terminology are called ‘foreign internal defence’, to support rebels ‘unconventional warfare’. Nevertheless, Viper seems to have tried to increase the strength of forces under command of the official Afghan government on only a few occasions. What follows is the first of two fragments detailing Viper reconstruction efforts. In May 2007, Taliban pressure mounted on the pro-ISAF militia in Chenartu, east of Tarin Kowt. Skirmishes indicated the enemy wanted to enter the enclave. At night Viper moved into the area, reaching it only after daybreak. Soon after, the first exchanges of fire with Taliban forces started. The Dutch called in an Apache to

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attack enemy spotters. After searching for IEDs along the road, Viper reached the enclave and met with the local leader. The SF started training the local militia in shooting, contact drills, navigation and other basic infantry skills. Together with the militiamen Viper patrolled and went out on operations. As time passed the number of enemy fighters surrounding the enclave seemed to diminish. After a few weeks Viper returned to camp (Anonymous, 2008). This second text centres on supporting a local militia, too, but also mentions Viper providing medical assistance and solving a ‘local’ dispute. In August and September 2007, pressure mounted once again on Tarin Kowt and Chora, according to intelligence sources, with Taliban forces gathering around the village of Mirabad. Mid-September 2007, Viper went to Mirabad to support the local militia still fighting off the Taliban. Viper provided medical assistance and weapons, patrolled the area and mediated in a delay of payment to the militia by the American company Dynacorp (Commandant 103, 2008). As to the medical assistance, this was probably provided by the medical specialists SF units usually have among their members. The fact that Viper did hardly any reconstruction probably reflects the security conditions the Dutch military met when entering Uruzgan: almost no Afghan government security forces available, pervasive Taliban presence and many local militia siding with them or at least being sceptical towards ISAF. This might not have been what some politicians in ‘the Hague’ thought or hoped for, but under these conditions Viper was the first and for months just about the only Dutch military to get into the valleys and mountains of southern Uruzgan. Heavily attacked over-andover-again, there seem to have been few opportunities for reconstruction work even if Dutch SF were tasked to do so by Dutch military authorities – which they probably did not. Whatever was the case; contrary to other Dutch SF missions Viper did very little of it. In Kandahar province (April 2005-April 2006), KCT and MarSOF provided medical assistance, helped secure elections and reconstructed irrigation systems. In 2007 and 2008, MarSof contributed to TFU’s Operational Mentoring and Liaison Teams. From May 2009 to July 2010, Dutch SF trained the 45 member Special Response Team Uruzgan: a police counterterrorism unit. About four other Viper operations are known from public sources. Providing a complete overview of early Dutch SF activity in Uruzgan would take more space than available for this contribution. In addition, summarizing these cases would only reinforce what has been described above: that Viper spent far more time fighting than reconstructing. Some fragments might however provide a new perspective on the work of the unit. Besides training the local police counterterrorism unit, as was mentioned above, Viper on a number of occasions found or at least entered storages of small arms weaponry, explosives, drugs and other illegal substances or materials. In cases like these the unit acted more in the law enforcement than the military domain, operating more like police than military. This is an operation inside the village of Tarin Kowt, which was by then firmly under Dutch/ISAF control. Working in ‘friendly territory’ seems to have been the exception for Viper. It is a classical SF raid on houses to arrest suspects of attacks on

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ISAF – which in Afghanistan over the years must have been performed hundreds, if not thousands of times by various nations’ SF units. At the end of July 2007 Viper arrested thirteen men, including one suspected of making the IED which killed the Dutch soldier Timo Smeehuizen on June 15 2007 in Tarin Kowt. Covered by an Apache and having the site cordoned off by infantry, SF searched a number of houses in the village, finding evidence for the attack, but also weapons, a large amount of Pakistani currency, identity papers, opium, satellite phones and fertilizer to make explosives (Anonymous, 2008; Strijbosch, 2007).

Not that special The previous sections have made clear that Viper had excellent cooperation with Australian SF and allied air forces. Furthermore, Viper spent far more time on fighting than on reconstruction. It is time to turn to the third question posed in this chapter: how ‘special’ were Viper operations in Uruzgan? First it should be determined whether operations were overt, covert or discrete (As, 2007). Discrete in this context means that an operation seems to be executed by a party other than the SF, i.e. local police or the Afghan military. To be labelled ‘covert’ an operation at least needs to be intended to move in and out undetected. When being detected a unit should at least try to escape unseen. Overt combat and being supported by air forces, howitzers, mortars or infantry in general indicates SF are performing rather regular military activities. Second, the three main tasks of SF are direct action (DA), military assistance (MA) and special reconnaissance (SR) (Anonymous, 2010). DA includes raids, ambushes and attacks against specific and important targets. MA includes educating, training, advising and assisting government or rebel forces. Reconnaissance is SR when it is aimed to gain important, specific and time-sensitive information. In case a large part of operations in Uruzgan cannot be labelled DA, MA or SR, Viper did not provide a special contribution to DTF and TFU. Third, SF can be deployed to achieve strategic, operational and tactical effects (Anonymous, 2010; Tucker and Lamb, 2007). In the case of Dutch military operations in Uruzgan, ‘operational’ should be defined as actions having effect in at least a large part of the province, ‘strategic’ as ‘a large part of the country’ and ‘tactical’ as merely affecting a village or less. The analysis of the fifty Viper operations mentioned in public sources, including the ones described in the fragments included in this chapter, makes clear that by far the majority of Vipers operations were overt. Only a few had covert elements, while no discrete operations were found. Viper did perform many SR and DA, and some MA operations, but another large part of its activities does not fit the descriptions of these three main tasks of SF. Viper often acted at operational level, none of the actions would have had strategic effect, while much of its work was merely tactical. All this points at a rather regular military contribution to TFU. No doubt Dutch SF did fight hard on many occasions and did contribute significantly to DTF

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and TFU. Nevertheless, a large part of Viper activities were rather regular infantry operations, which probably could have been performed by Dutch infantry, too. The case of Viper thus supports the views of Tucker, Lamb and Rothstein that SF suffer from a ‘conventional forces bias’ and operate as ‘hyper conventional forces’. Whether Dutch SF are not special is a different matter, which cannot be deducted from the research presented above. In the early years of the Dutch military in Uruzgan, at least, they did not prove to be special; fighting like tigers rather than vipers.

Conclusion The above description and analysis of Viper operations makes clear these military units were far more involved in fighting than reconstruction. A large part of the fifty actions made public included combat action, many of them heavy fighting. International cooperation with other nations’ SF units, air forces and Afghan partners was of crucial importance and seems to have been excellent, including in deeply frightening, highly threatening combat situations. Much of the work of Viper, however, was more of a regular military nature, infantry work, not the kind of operations usually identified as the domain of Special Forces or special operations. Further research may look into the question of whether Viper in this regard was an exception in the history of Dutch SF operations or not. The position of Dutch SF units within the Netherlands armed forces and national security complex can be studied further to see how this presumed ‘conventional forces bias’ can be overcome – and whether this is actually deemed desirable by stakeholders, which is not necessarily the case. Maybe the relatively regular use of SF fits Dutch political (and military) tradition and ambitions very well. Moreover, so far few thorough, detailed studies on (military) operations in Uruzgan have been published, making it difficult to put Viper work in perspective. The work of Dutch SF might be studied only occasionally; the Netherlands has no strong tradition of seriously studying its contemporary military missions from operational perspectives. SF operations deserve more attention. Even the fifty Viper operations referred to in this contribution might very well be not all Viper did in Uruzgan. More specifically, it probably is the more secretive, ‘sexy’ and special operations that simply do not make it into public sources, not even the magazines and commemoration books of the SF units themselves. Judging from the limited capacity present and the number of operations made public, Viper cannot have done much more. Nevertheless, over the coming years more ‘bits and pieces’ might appear. Other missions of Dutch SF in Afghanistan, on the Balkans and in Iraq need attention too. To make this state of research ‘worse’: current world security conditions, especially in the zone of instability stretching from North-Africa to South-East-Asia, provide ample opportunity to deploy Dutch SF units. These kind of military units are very well suited for the ‘irregular’ conflicts of the present, which are, of course, not irregular to

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them at all. It is therefore likely many more new missions of Dutch SF will need to be studied: a more than promising prospect for researchers in this special domain.

References Anonymous (2007) Better no bombs than wrong bombs. Carré 30(3), 49-50. Anonymous (2008) Full spectrum special operations in Uruzghan. De groene baret ( June), 8-14. Anonymous (2010) NATO Special Forces. Qua patet orbis (April), 8-13. As, van den H.G. (2007) Nederlandse Special Forces in ontwikkeling: een toenemende toegevoegde waarde (Dutch Special Forces in development: increasing added value). Carré, nr. 3, 10-14. Commandant 103 (2008) Special forces task group (SFTG) 5, een andere benadering (Special forces task group (SFTG) 5, a different approach). De groene baret (September), 8-14. Commandant 104 (2007) Reageren op een hinderlaag; ervaringen van Nederlandse commando’s in Uruzgan (Reaction to an ambush: experiences of Dutch commando’s in Uruz­ gan). Vereniging infanterie officieren 4, 4-8. de Volkskrant (2006) Feitenoverzicht Nederlandse missie in Afghanistan (Factsheet Dutch mission in Afghanistan) (September 6). DTF(2007) DTF-acties Nederlandse special forces in de Chora-vallei (DTF-actions Dutch special forces in the Chora-vallei). Carré 30(3), 30-35. Jones, D. (2006) Unconventional warfare, foreign internal defense. Special warfare ( JulyAugust), 21-27. Karskens, A. (2009) Vragen rond actie Uruzgan (Questions concerning action Uruzgan). De Pers (February 25). Kiras, J.D. (2006) Special operations and strategy, from World War II to the War on Terrorism. London: Routledge. Krijger, A. and Elands, M. (1997) Het Korps Commandotroepen 1942-1997. The Hague: SDU. McRaven, W.H. (1995) Spec ops, case studies in special operations warfare, theory & practice. Novato: Presidio. MoD (2009) Uitreiking militaire Willemsorde aan kapitein Marco Kroon (Awarding militaire Willemsorde to captain Marco Kroon) Den Haag: Ministerie van Defensie. Rothstein, H.S (2006) Afghanistan and the troubled future of unconventional warfare. Anna­ polis: Naval Institute. Strijbosch, V. (2007) De anonieme strijders, Special Forces leveren bijdrage aan Task Force Uruzgan (The anonymous warriors, Special Forces contribute to Task Force Uruzgan). Alle Hens (12), 32-34. Tucker, D., Lamb, C.J. (2007) United States special operations forces. New York: Columbia University Press. Trouw (2006) Nederlanders hevig in gevecht in Uruzgan (Dutch fierce fighting in Uruzgan) ( June 24).

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Van Wiggen, O.P. (2007) De NLD Special Forces Task Group (SFTG) in Operation Enduring Freedom (The NLD Special Forces Task Group (SFTG) in Operation Enduring Freedom). Carré, 30(3), 36-39. Wohlgetan, A. (2008) Endstation Kabul. Als deutscher Soldat in Afghanistan. Ein Insiderbericht. Berlin: Econ.

11

Planning dilemmas in coalition operations Ton de Munnik and Martijn Kitzen

Introduction After Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait in August 1990, the Netherlands government decided to participate in the enforcement of a trade embargo within the framework of the Western European Union. This deployment was based on United Nation’s (UN) Resolution 665, which mandated nations to enforce the trade embargo with naval forces. Two Dutch frigates, HMNLS Witte de With and HMNLS Pieter Florisz accompanied by two Belgian mine hunters sailed on 20 August to the ‘Desert Shield’ area of operations. At the moment of departure, a lot was unclear. Mission and command relationships were not defined. Rules of engagement were not adapted to the unfamiliar task of enforcing an embargo and the operation area was not clear-cut. During the journey to the Middle East some aspects were more or less cleared, such as the operations area. The national political level in The Hague decided that the task group was not allowed to cross the 27° 30’ north latitude in order to avoid any risk of getting involved in offensive operations against the Iraqi navy. ‘And what if the task group was pursuing some suspected ships, which crossed that parallel?’ was a question which immediately rose. The national solution was that under these circumstances the commander personally had to call Mr. Relus ter Beek, the then Netherlands Minister of Defence, – if necessary at home – to ask permission for a cross-parallel operation. The main effort in this enforcing operation was in the hands of 5th US Fleet and US Maritime Interception Force (USMIF) (Morin and Gimblett, 1997). However, the coordination of the employment of the Dutch vessels was delegated to the Western European Union, which had only a coordinating relationship with the USMIF. The Dutch political desire to avoid commitment to offensive operations was on bad terms with the freedom of action for the local commander needed for execution of his interdiction tasks. This example from the beginning of the post-Cold War world order is illustrative for the distance between political ambitions and tactical reality, which characterizes conflicts after the Cold War era. National political desires lead to severe restrictions in the commander’s freedom of action, a limitation in choices on the spot, and finally to sometimes impossible situations for commanders on the ground, at sea or in the air. More than twenty years after this example, commanders are still

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confronted with this tension. This chapter focuses on planning and decision making at the strategic and operational level. Through an analysis of experiences from the Dutch-led Task Force Uruzgan (2006-2010), it explores the tension between the unity of effort which is a condition for an efficient achievement of the end state on one hand and national agendas which accompany each troop contribution and host nation interests on the other hand. The chapter interprets this tension, based on experiences in Afghanistan and answers the question to what extent this is avoidable.

Theory and doctrine Since the Second World War, political communities have overwhelmingly sought legitimacy and validation by establishing a recognized state. The number of UN member states has increased from 51 in 1945 to 192 in 2009. However, internationally borders do not automatically mean statehood. In the eyes of certain local communities, they are meaningless (e.g., the Durand Line in Afghanistan). For them, nationhood is not bound by arbitrary frontiers, drawn by foreigners, but nationhood draws from a common language, culture and religion. Instability is inherent in those societies when they are confronted with political settlements beyond their direct influence. Crises and conflicts are in principle solved through a system with the centrality of the state and the principles of the UN as a basic assumption. The post-1945 (and especially the post-1990) world is poorly fitted for dealing with intra-state violence and instability, which has resulted in time-consuming, delayed or absent responses of the international community. Globalization, the increasing international interconnectedness, has sparked grievance and radicalization in parts of the world with economic inequality, while disrupting traditional bonds and relations. Economies and societies are increasingly dependent on information and communication networks. At the same time, these networks have empowered groups to communicate effectively within states, across regions and across the globe. Coupled with weapons proliferation, these dynamics provide non-state actors with a destructive power and reach which was formerly only available to states. The consequences of globalization make a purely localized conflict increasingly unlikely and have destabilizing effects in the region and ultimately across the world. They challenge the utility of traditional organizational concepts, specifically of security organizations and suggest a network of threats requiring a more sophisticated response. A majority of the international community feels urgently inclined to take action to avoid an unrestricted dispersion of instability. As a result many actors will be present in, or have influence on a mission area; the intervening force is but one. Contributing states are joined by international and regional agencies and organizations, both inter- and non-governmental. Therefore stabilization is a multinational and multi-agency activity. Private sector organiza-

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tions and contractors will compete to supply services, products and even security. While unity of command remains the ideal, the wide array of actors makes it rarely achievable. Consequently, establishing and maintaining a certain degree of unity of effort is probably the best that can be achieved, and requires a strong decisionmaking structure. Without such a structure, effective campaigning will be impossible (MoD, 2009). Multi-agency and combined operations require unique military command and control arrangements. Central authority is not achieved easily in stabilization, which is characterized by foreign military and civilian actors, who work to balance power through individual agendas within a loosely-knit web of bi- and multi-lateral engagement mechanisms. Some structures and organizations are inherently dysfunctional with no clear lines of authority and blurring responsibilities. Levels of military authority (stabilization force, regional command, task force) do not always concur with civilian counterparts. Some actors involved, military as well as civilian, may find it difficult – sometimes even impossible – to engage the host nation with a unified voice and even to understand the basis of their relationships with each other. The web of relationships does not fit in the well-ordered military notions of command and control; it appears almost anarchical. Although partner agencies can function based on shared values, informal rules and practical protocols, it will take a shared top-down vision, patience and inclination to compromise (MoD, 2009). In this complicated environment one of the most important questions for a commander is: who is responsible to whom and for what? It is most likely that he will be working within an alliance or in coalition as a supporting partner. Followership can be as important as leadership and the commander should recognize where his approach should be subordinate to that of the alliance or coalition. This can be extended to civil personalities (like the Head of Mission) who have no formal military command authority, but possess a mandate to coordinate civil and military activity. Cross-government and inter-agency cohesion is vital, but relationships and processes have no agreed template. In traditional military thinking a commander has authority over all allocated resources. As afore mentioned, such unity of command is unlikely in a stabilization campaign. Consequently, the commander should focus on achieving an optimal unity of effort. Much will rest on willingness to collaborate as each participant might have to accept constraints in order to achieve a degree of unity. This will be challenging; the mission will throw together disparate organizations, with different philosophies and cultures. Once this essential unity of effort has been agreed, and the tone set by the leaders, it needs to be implemented through tailored committee structures and competent liaisons at every level. Some actors, for example Non Governmental Organizations (NGOs), may be unable or unwilling, to participate in such formal mechanisms. In these cases, de-confliction may be the best that can be achieved. Intellectual and physical support will be required; for example, protection, intelligence, and communications, all functions which only the military may be able to provide. When formed, committees will agree priorities

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and designate the main effort, allocate responsibilities, apportion resources, and coordinate activities while mediating differences of opinion. All should realize that as the campaign progresses, there will be shifts between the supporting – supported relationship, along with changes to the main effort. Even these terms will need to be discussed and their meaning agreed. Unity of effort is to be manifested in a joint, inter-agency plan, shared planning tools and perhaps a tailored integrated headquarters to ensure that all levers of power are maximized to deliver influence. Uncoordinated activity and disagreement will present structural and conceptual gaps – opportunities adversaries will exploit. This theory illustrates in the first place the gap between traditional military thinking and the current view on authority in stabilization operations. In the traditional way a commander has the sole responsibility and as a consequence the exclusive power over all resources and capacities to achieve his objective. In stabilization operations the commander still has the full authority over his own national assets and to a lesser extent over foreign military assets. He rarely has any authority over non-military international players who all have the intention to contribute to the comprehensive approach in their own way and are driven by separate agendas. Materialization of unity of effort among all players requires strong characters with a broad knowledge of all players and the playing field, persuasiveness, negotiating skills, a social attitude, and even an intellectual approach.

The ground truth in Afghanistan This section covers the involvement of Task Force Uruzgan (TFU) in achieving unity of effort. The Dutch deployment to Uruzgan delivered a wide array of experiences in the stabilization operation of the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF). It contains a selection of some of the most pregnant experiences which are to be seen in the context of the operational environment in Uruzgan from 2006 to 2010. Four selected topics are covered: (1) the mission of TFU and its translation into practicable tasks, (2) the caveats imposed by the troop contributing nations, (3) the internationalization as a result of the lead nation responsibility and (4) the relationships with local power brokers as manifestation of disunity of effort.

The mission

A basic military principle is the leading character of the mission for a unit or formation in all its activities. That mission should be a clear and concise statement of the task of the command and its purpose. Missions are defined after a decisionmaking process in an operations order or an operational directive. Traditionally the mission is achievable within the horizon of the unit or formation. Commander and staff make their own considerations and take the decision about how to realize the mission and how to achieve the desired end state. The horizon of single task forces in stabilization operations is limited, however, compared with the desired end state

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of the campaign. The question in this section is how the long-term commitment fits into the horizon of a task force rotation, which for the TFU was limited to six months. Task Force Uruzgan’s mission clearly demonstrates the vagueness that results from this tension between long-term commitment and the need for directions for individual rotations: ‘TFU Mission for the long term (2010 and beyond) as part of ISAF, in partnership with Afghan National Security Forces and in coordination with the Government of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan and the international community is to contribute to a reliable and effective government that can bring the people and the government closer together, and is able to provide a stable and secure environment and development progress in Uruzgan province’ (Van Bemmel et al., 2010). Key words in this mission statement are ‘to contribute’ and ‘to provide’ which indicate a conditional character for the operation. But such a conditional mission never delivers a clearly defined end state. That end state can vary from a state only without any sanctuary for terrorist groups which threaten the free world, to a self-supporting state which can play a mature role in the international community. This variety is the foundation for discussions on combat mission versus nation building mission, or counter terrorism versus counter insurgency, or Operation Enduring Freedom versus ISAF. Even the mandates of the highest order, the UN Security Council Resolutions are restrained as they only stress the desire to counter terrorism and the drugs trade, to stimulate the support of the local government, to support the training of local security forces and to call for the support of human rights. A leading end state is absent in the international approach to the Afghanistan campaign and consequently a source of disunity. The dominating principle in the Afghan campaign since the Bonn agreement of 2002 is the lead by the Afghan government and its local authorities. Contrary to the campaigns in Bosnia, Kosovo and Iraq, the international community was reluctant to impose a Western world model upon Afghan society and it was strongly reluctant to play the role of an occupation force. This non-occupation principle, however, assumes the autonomous presence of an administration able to develop policy and to govern the nation. Afghan reality is quite different. Authority in Afghan society is more based on traditional and opportunistic power structures than on formal rational-legal rules. Particularly in the rural areas family and tribe affiliations will always prevail. The society is strongly decentralized and highly fragmented, and if there is anything to be called ‘policy’, it is built from the bottom up to a level where that policy is not relevant any more. This leads to diversity in judicial, economic and public order aspects with only the local culture as a common mark. This local culture differs throughout Afghanistan, by tribe and district. A leading end state defined by the Afghan people is also absent. Because of this societal structure, it is an illusion to expect an achievable desired end state applicable for the whole Afghan state. The absence of a well-defined end state and the presence of a mission statement characterized by shaping conditions for follow-on processes, give troop-contribut-

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ing nations a free rein to define their own intent, concept of operations and course of action. And that happens. All nations which contribute have their own ideas about ‘their’ province: the British for the Helmand province, the Canadians for the Kandahar province, the United States for the Paktika, Khost and Nargarhar provinces, the Germans for the Kunduz province, etc. The next question is who takes the responsibility for defining this ‘modus operandi’. As it is a campaign by the international community sanctioned by the United Nations, the most obvious answer is the coalition that is mandated for this campaign. To achieve an Afghan nation with a certain degree of cohesion and feasibility, partly against the current due to the character of Afghan society, a consequent and synergic approach is a condition sine qua non. That mandated coalition is led by NATO and its nations and supported by troop-contributing non-NATO nations. So NATO is the only organization able to define a coherent strategy for the Afghan campaign. As NATO is in the first place a political organization based on consensus amongst its nation members, a well-defined strategy is difficult to achieve as all nations have different views on the objectives, goals and modus operandi. As a consequence the strategy and the operational guidelines to the operational level are still broad and conditional in nature. To a great extent it gives commanders freedom of action. This is very desirable as mission command presumes a maximum of decentralization. But here it ceases. On the ground this freedom of action for the commanders at the operational level is limited due to a number of reasons. Those limitations, however, are not imposed by the coalition, but by the individual nations which contribute to the campaign. The first reason is the long-term commitment, which is at odds with the sixmonth rotation of the task forces. A coherent and feasible Afghan nation – either without any sanctuary for terrorists or as self-sustaining member of the international community – is only achievable in terms of years, or better: at least a generation. This is merely realizable in small steps on a path that leads to an end state which has to be developed gradually. The choice of this path limits the freedom of action for operational and task force commanders. The second reason is the predominantly military character of the NATO-organization. Although NATO adopted the comprehensive approach as the best way to achieve success in stabilization operations in its doctrine, NATO lacks resources to fulfil non-military tasks. Efforts in areas of development and governance are mostly provided through national or sometimes even private channels. In 2007, only 4% of the military personnel in ISAF were directly dedicated to development and governance. Realization of the comprehensive approach on the ground has developed into a national responsibility, as it is impracticable for the coalition. The consecutive input of national or private resources with a long-term scope also limits the freedom of action for commanders. The last reason that limits the freedom of action for commanders is the support from their own nation. Public opinion in troop-contributing nations yields expectations on their forces’ performance. Fulfilment of these expectations is a condition

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for continuation of the mission and has a strong influence on the task forces from the capitals as a result. A consequence of these considerations is the presence of a strong national agenda in operational planning, despite the theory that unity of effort is optimally achieved in an environment dominated by unity of command and mission command. All task forces wrestled with this dilemma and took initiatives to cope with it. In most cases they took a conceptual approach by formulating their own campaign plan with a long-term horizon (Thruelsen, 2010). In the case of TFU there was a TFU Master Plan on the onset of the mission in 2006. In 2008, a TFU Focal Paper was written, which was later refined and transformed in an Uruzgan Campaign Plan (Van Bemmel et al., 2010). All these plans, however, were local initiatives of commanders taking into account the resources that were available and based on the policy of the different ministries in The Hague. It is highly questionable whether this should be a task of a local commander. The comprehensive approach does not start at the operational or tactical level. On the contrary, it starts at the strategic level where the resources are made available and the long-term objectives should be defined. This assumes a coherent strategy either from Brussels for Afghanistan, or from The Hague for Uruzgan, not as a responsibility from one ministry but as a whole-of-government approach, which is a prerequisite for an effective comprehensive approach. Only in this way is a maximum unit of effort attainable. To sum up: the mission remains the leading thought. The mission in stabilization operations is, however, strongly influenced by the conditional nature of the mandate which leads to an abstract character, and by an impact of the contributing nations to realize their own agenda, according to their own ideas.

Caveats

Deployment of armed forces in a multinational coalition as in the Afghan campaign is a common trait of today’s operations. Only a coalition is able to assemble the various capabilities necessary for the campaign. In addition, multi-nationality also provides the necessary political and social support and legitimacy. National interests of the troop-contributing nations determine the nature and size of the contribution. The contributions made by these countries should not only be judged on the basis of the actual operational capabilities of the troops supplied, but also in terms of the politico-military advantages generated by their participation. These advantages are the fact that the risk is shared and a demonstration of the willingness to act in a problematic and threatening situation. The military advantage is that cooperation contributes to the overall force in terms of quantity (more troops) and quality (scarce specialist capabilities). Cooperation also means access to key information and intelligence and enables the efficient use of logistic assets. But multi-nationality also brings restrictions, which affect the operational effectiveness of the force. These are in essence the national restrictions and conditions or caveats. A caveat is any limitation, restriction or constraint by a nation on its military forces or civilian elements available to a coalition and that does not permit coalition com-

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manders to deploy and employ these assets fully in line with the approved operation plan. A caveat may also apply to freedom of movement within the joint operations area or to compliance with the approved rules of engagement. These caveats restrict the flexibility of a commander and force him to achieve a political acceptable instead of the most effective solution. Within ISAF there are 58 overall caveats. In total, 20 out of 47 nations in ISAF operate without caveats. Of the 27 troopcontributing nations with caveats, 20 nations limit operations outside of originally assigned locations (usually the province where they are based), conducting counternarcotics operations with ISAF (predominantly imposed by allies in RC-South), and Rules of Engagement caveats (the majority being held by non-NATO nations). Nearly 40 percent of the caveats are geographically-based, representing a significant challenge for Commander ISAF as they limit his agility. The effect of geographical caveats on transition may present further challenges, as thinned-out ISAF Forces may be more difficult to redeploy in unstable, insecure areas where handoff of security responsibilities to Afghan National Security Forces (ANSF) may require ad-hoc ISAF engagement. In Uruzgan the caveats imposed on the TFU were a consequence of the political debate in the Dutch parliament and were obviously inspired by a general mistrust of military commanders to engage in battles beyond necessity. The clearest example, which mainly occurred in the first years of the mission, is the strict separation and non-involvement with the counter-terrorist activities of the US-led operation Enduring Freedom (OEF). Although these operations took place with the same long-term objectives and in the same area, it was strictly forbidden to operate in mutual conjunction. The synergy of combined operations (Enduring Freedom and ISAF) would have made both substantially more effective. A lot of energy was now spent to de-confliction. The built-in escape of support ‘in extremis’, which allowed Dutch forces to assist OEF-forces in case of emergency, was subjected to such complex procedures that it deterred any combined action. The caveat for the Australian Mentoring and Reconstruction Task Force (MRTF) as part of TFU not to accept any area responsibility, imposed limitations on their partnered operations with Afghan battalions. The caveat for most task forces to operate only in their designated provinces limited flexibility of regional commanders to guarantee support across the task forces. This hindered exploitation of a local success or relief in emergency situations. Caveats are obstacles for commanders in effectively and efficiently achieving their objectives. This is not only applicable in security operations as illustrated in this section. It applies in the same sense to limitations in the use of resources in the development process or the allocation of resources in support of good governance. Any caveat is a violation of achieving a full unity of effort, because it slurps energy away from the objective.

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Internationalization

Until 2006, the Netherlands participated in stabilization operations in a great variety of missions, e.g. Bosnia-Herzegovina, Kosovo and Iraq. In all missions the Dutch contribution was accommodated in a framework, usually British or German. For the first time the Netherlands was now ‘lead nation’ in the stabilization operation for Uruzgan province. This meant that all activities had to be linked to each other. In traditional military thinking a commander gets an allocation of an area of responsibility in which he has full freedom to execute his mission. He has in principle authority or at least control, over all units in ‘his’ area. This control causes seldom problems because it takes place in a national setting without different agendas of ‘guest units’. This is quite different in today’s multinational operations. The lead nation is the nation with the will and capability, competence, and influence to provide the essential elements of political consultation and military leadership to coordinate the planning, mounting, and execution of a coalition military operation. So the lead nation concept implies an exclusive responsibility for command and control. Other concepts are the ‘integrated staff concept’ in which the coalition nations are proportionally represented and the ‘framework nation concept’ with one nation providing a framework of key functions and completed with a substantial contribution of other nations. In both of these constructs responsibilities are not nationally anchored, but covered by the more intangible coalition. Accepting the role and responsibility of lead nation implies that an individual nation, instead of the coalition becomes approachable for the results. In Uruzgan the TFU was confronted with a variety of contributions by different nations. Australia took part with a substantial task force (approximately 800 troops) for reconstruction, special operations and later for mentoring the ANSF. The United States were present with Special Forces and Police Mentoring Teams. Singapore reinforced the TFU with medical facilities. From 2008 on, France contributed with a team to mentor the Afghan National Army. On the civilian side an increasing number of players deployed to the province, like an office of the UN Assistance Mission in Afghanistan (UNAMA) and a variety of Non-Governmental Organizations. And most important is the Afghan presence, the local government and the ANSF. This diversity of players, each with its own hierarchy and its own agenda, had to be put together to achieve an acceptable end state in the long term. This was a huge challenge, e.g.: –– The Australian Mentoring and Reconstruction Task Force came into theatre with its own campaign plan approved by Canberra but uncoordinated with Commander-TFU. Change of such a developed plan and the accompanying mindset is more difficult and costs more energy than adapting to a new plan. –– An American Police Mentoring Team came into the province and accepted only tasks from its parent unit, far away. The designated command relationship of Tactical Control is not sufficient to achieve unity of effort, because the TFU commander has no operational authority.

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–– Units of the Afghan National Army were logically commanded by their own chain of command, which ended at the General Staff in Kabul. At the end they have to take over all tasks and responsibilities for the security in Afghanistan. But as long as they are not sufficiently mature to accept these tasks, these army units operate under the umbrella of the coalition. Their restriction not to perform more day- or night-patrols does not, however, contribute to unity of effort. –– The establishment of a Police Training Centre contributes substantially to the reform of the security sector, but was complex. The building was paid for by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, but funds for maintenance came from the Ministry of Defence. Implementation of the centre was completed by the Provincial Reconstruction Team. The coalition training command in Kabul was the owner of the curriculum and sent students in conjunction with the Afghan National Police. The Australian Federal Police supported with the lead of the police mentors and the EU Police Mission provided most mentors. Although it is not impossible to establish a centre with so many players, it is a big investment of very different players. At the start of the mission, the role of Commander-TFU as a commander in charge with the province of Uruzgan as his area of responsibility was unclear. The relation of all non-TFU players to their parent organizations was strong and prevailed. This relation also made it possible that these players could occupy themselves with their own game. Based on the formal hierarchical structure, unity of effort was hard to achieve. As a consequence, investment in personal relations became extremely important. Commander-TFU was for the non-TFU units dependent on goodwill and speaking terms. This continued in the course of the mission, but the TFU learned to bring structure in these relationships. The outcome of the aforementioned Uruzgan Campaign Plan contributed to this structure. The term ‘area of responsibility’ had its denotation changed to ‘battle space owner’, which implied that the non-TFU players had the obligation to coordinate with the TFU commander. There has been a strong plea to establish a clear relationship between non-TFU players and the TFU before entering the ‘battle space’. This should be arranged on a strategic level in order to achieve a concentrated unity of effort. It is not effective to saddle the operational or tactical commander with this task, because he has no formal authority.

Power Brokers

The province of Uruzgan is one of the poorest provinces in Afghanistan with a rich pattern of tribes and sub tribes. Until 2006, coalition presence was limited to a US PRT in Tarin Kowt and some Operational Detachments of US Special Forces in some combat outposts. Operations were limited to combat actions against insurgents and development on a small scale. Daily life in the province continued as in the previous hundred years. In January 2002, Jan Mohammed Khan, a Popalzai

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subtribal Mujahidin commander in the conflict with the Russians and former prisoner of the Taliban, became governor of the province. As usual in Afghan rural society he combined the legislative, executive and judicial branch of government in one: a heroic presence, long white beard, green robe and a Kalashnikov on his back. In this position he was very useful for the US forces, which pursued the antiterrorist cause more than raising socio-economic development. His nephew Matiullah Khan ran a ‘militia’ that sided with the US in its anti-Taliban operations. The fact that this militia was doing this largely to justify violence for settling old scores and dominating the local scene, was conveniently overlooked. In 2005, it turned out that Jan Mohammed enriched himself substantially, participated in opium trade and suppressed the part of the population not belonging to his Popalzai tribe. Matiullah was a loyal accomplice of Jan Mohammed and acted as an assassin who killed farmers not willing to contribute harvest or money to the governor’s benefit. The Dutch political level, heavily influenced by a strong development mind and a noble set of Western values, urged president Karzai to remove Jan Mohammed from his governor’s position as a prerequisite for Dutch participation in the ISAF mission. The Dutch wanted him out of the way so that they could have a serious chance of improving the quality and effectiveness of governance in Uruzgan. This needs to be seen in the historical context of central government in Afghanistan. It has rarely worked and when it did – from the 1930s to the 1970s – the regimes understood the vital role for local power and a genuine sharing of resources at that level. To that extent, the strategic belief in a strong, central government in the new Kabul is not the appropriate way of doing business. Explaining the tribal view of central government as a foreign entity, Rand Corporation political scientist Seth Jones recently quoted a Kandahari tribal elder who stated that Kabul played no meaningful role in his life: ‘My allegiance is to my family first. Then to my village, sub-tribe and tribe’ ( Jones, 2010). Co-opting local strongmen without reaching out to the marginalized segments of the population misses the point of counter-insurgency (Kitzen, forthcoming). In March 2006, Abdul Hakim Munib replaced Jan Mohammed as governor, but his influence never left Uruzgan. Moreover he continued to play a key role in the informal tribal structure and he epitomizes the problematic double-headed set-up of the Afghan situation as he was appointed special advisor to President Karzai. Matiullah Khan was also on the black list of TFU but remained in his position of chief of the highway police, an organization that formally did not exist, but operated in reality as a militia of several hundred warriors. In the course of the four-year commitment in Uruzgan it turned out that more, if not most, of Uruzgan’s authorities had a dubious history. The provincial police chief Juma Gul is another good example. At first it looked as if he was the perfect choice, overcoming inter-tribal rivalries for the important post. But Gul has instead turned out to be a master of corruption, taking not from the locals but from his own personnel, including stealing their pensions when they are killed. And in the background behind Gul

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appears, once again, the figure of Jan Mohammed. After the Dutch contribution ended in August 2010, Jan Mohammed and Matiullah were informally reinstated by the Australian and US Forces which took over responsibility for the province of Uruzgan. Jan Mohammed Khan and Matiullah Khan are typical examples of power brokers, who exert influence or affect the equilibrium of political power by intrigue. In hindsight it is questionable whether this black list was a wise decision. The particular position of Matiullah Khan, who was accepted by the US Special Forces throughout the Dutch period, has put a strain on the internal relations within the coalition. It is not conducive to the credibility of the coalition if personalities are not met with the same application of standards throughout the campaign. The fact that Matiullah Khan continued to control key roads and protected convoys for money through sub-contractors does not contribute to credibility. The political prohibition on dealing with disreputable figures made it difficult, if not impossible to adapt that policy when these power brokers demonstrated a change to a more positive attitude. That was a lost chance and an unnecessary limitation of the freedom of action. The inconsistency has absorbed lots of energy and a wrong perception by authorities, opponent and population and is consequently a disunity of effort.

Conclusion In this section conclusions are drawn from the preceding sections. We started with a look back to the nineties of the last century with an example of a caveat that limited tactical flexibility and which restricted the unity of effort in the deployment of a combined maritime task force. This example illustrated the tension between political desire and tactical reality and spawned the question whether such a situation is avoidable. We then demonstrated the acceptance of this tension as a fact of (stabilization) life and provided some positive doctrinal reflections on how to cope with this phenomenon that commanders still strongly experience as undesirable. The underlying thought is that the tension between strategic aspiration and the ground truth is a fait accompli in stabilization operations. Commanders have to accept this and should cope with these dilemmas by using their personality and personal influence. The Dutch experiences in Afghanistan confirm these observations to a great extent. Commanders throughout this mission were confronted with choices, not only about the most effective concepts of operation, but also about the political feasibility of their modus operandi. They were balancing between strategic desire and tactical necessity, between The Hague and Uruzgan, between a diplomatic approach and military professionalism. The Dutch achievements in Uruzgan have demonstrated that commanders were fit for this task as reflected in countless evaluations. This observation might lead to a self-contended attitude, as positive results mostly lead to the neglect of lessons learned. The question remains whether the ten-

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sion is avoidable and does not divert commanders and their staffs too much from their key task: timely and high quality decision making and leading their troops in the realization of these decisions (MoD, 2010). A clear thread in the previous section is the absence of a comprehensive strategy. The doctrinal principle of the comprehensive approach is realized in theatre at the operational and tactical levels. But the realization is too dependent on personalities, on the goodwill of the players involved and on chance. Instead the conditions should be shaped in the capitals of the troop contributing nations and in Brussels. The mosaic of international commitments lacks clear unity of purpose and effort. As an international adviser to the Afghan government noted, the mantra of ‘Afghan government lead’ is often taken to mean ‘an unwillingness to hammer out policy positions as an international policy position to which the Afghan government can then respond. Rather, the donors go bilaterally and try and influence the government’ (International Crisis Group, 2008). Only a whole-of-government approach at the strategic level can produce a comprehensive strategy which has sufficient authority for the theatre. Such a strategic direction prevents commanders having to muddle through a variety of willing, docile and unwilling partners to achieve his end state. Although it is not a solution for all the problems, it is a main contribution to a unity of effort.

References International Crisis Group (2008) Asia Report No. 145, Afghanistan: The Need for International Resolve, Brussels. Jones, S.G. (2010) In the Graveyard of Empires, America’s War in Afghanistan. New York: W.W. Norton & Company. Kitzen, M.W.M. (forthcoming), Close Encounters of the Tribal Kind, the implementation of cooption as a tool for de-escalation by the Netherlands’ Task Force Uruzgan. MoD (2009) Joint Doctrine Publication 3-40, Security and Stabilisation: The Military Contribution. Shrivenham: Development, Concepts and Doctrine Centre. MoD (2010) Joint Doctrine Publicatie 5 – Commandovoering. The Hague: Ministry of Defense. Morin, J.H. and Gimblett, R.H. (1997) Operation Friction. Toronto: Dundurn Press. Thruelsen P.D. (2010) Fighting an insurgency without unity, NATO in Afghanistan 2006 to 2010. Copenhagen: University of Copenhagen. Van Bemmel, I.E., Eikelboom, A.R. and Hoefsloot, P.G.F. (2010) Comprehensive and iterative planning in Uruzgan. Militaire Spectator 175(4), 196-209.

12

Trust thy ally Multinational military cooperation in Uruzgan Joseph Soeters, Tom Bijlsma and Gijs van den Heuvel

Introduction Multinational military cooperation is not really new. Yet, compared to colonial times and the Cold War, multinational military missions seem to have become more inevitable these days. There are at least two reasons for that (Soeters and Tresch, 2010). Over the last decades the budgets of many national armed forces have not increased proportionally to the growing number of assignments the militaries have been set to do. Since the financial crisis military budgets are even being reduced in real terms. Hence, national militaries need to work together because they do not have enough resources on their own in order to respond to the tasks the politicians order them to do. Second, to achieve proper results military missions need to be legitimized and supported as much as possible, by politics as well as by the general public. One way of gaining such support is to have more nations involved in a mission. For the United Nations this latter argument is even prerequisite: without multinational cooperation a UN mission cannot be a UN mission even if one nation could contribute all the resources needed. But also in the case of NATO or other general alliances (e.g., European Union or African Union) the number of countries that support a mission through participation is conducive to a mission’s acceptability and success. For both reasons, it comes as no surprise that from its inception the ISAF-operation in Afghanistan has had a multinational composition. The multinational character of this mission is interesting because it raises important operational questions (Soeters and Manigart, 2008; Soeters and Tresch, 2010). How does the encounter of the various national armed forces in the operational area in fact develop? Assuming that national armed forces differ in operational styles – i.e. the use of violence, conflict resolution strategies and Human Resources policies -, is the encounter between allied forces in a mission a difficult confrontation or a fruitful interaction? And, assuming that there are subtle or not so subtle operational differences between national armed forces, the question emerges which approach works best in a given

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conflict situation. Frankly, we do not know a lot about how to achieve good results in terms of reducing violence, increasing safety and public order, and developing democracy and social and economic prosperity in (post-) conflict areas at the same time. Every bit of information to help us get an idea of ‘what works best’ must be used. In this chapter we deal with both questions in as far as they have evolved in Mission Uruzgan. We will try to shed light on both questions – interaction between national forces and effectiveness of approaches. We will use data from two periods of fieldwork focusing respectively on a simultaneous and sequential encounter of national operational styles. The first project was conducted in October 2009 by the third author, who specifically paid attention to the issue of information sharing between the various national armed forces in Uruzgan (van den Heuvel, 2012). The second project took place in August 2010, at the end of the Dutch participation, and was conducted by the second author and a colleague.1 This project focused on the hand-over take-over from the Dutch to American and Australian forces. The differences in operational and policy styles immediately popped up, within weeks if not within days.

Case-observation 1: Multinational cooperation and information sharing (Fall 2009) Until mid 2010, Taskforce Uruzgan (TFU) was responsible for the operations in Uruzgan province. The Task Force counted roughly three thousand troops from six nations. It predominantly consisted of Dutch and Australian units augmented with elements from Singapore, France, Slovakia, and the United States. This distribution was reflected in the composition of staff at the headquarters. Collaboration was not unaffected by this diverse composition. Whereas interdependence required seamless integration, issues of distance and confidence sometimes worked hard to prevent it.

The Australian perspective

Coming from different nations, personnel at Camp Holland regarded each other’s work practices from varying perspectives. Not surprisingly, this was particularly evident in the interaction between the two largest contingents in the headquarters: the Australians and the Dutch. It turned out that Australian staff in Tarin Kowt often questioned the command practices of their Dutch coalition partners. Practices and procedures used to direct personnel were soon known as ‘poldering’, describing the processes of ‘consultation, consensus, and compromise’ that characterize Dutch workplace behaviour (van Iterson, 2000), also in the Dutch military (Soeters, 2008). It (initially) contributed to the challenge of achieving integration. As two Australian officers explained:

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Dutch Army guys polder. Every fucking individual who considers himself important needs to say something. That is detrimental to the mission. We have to take decisions with the information we have, but these Dutch guys are prepared to talk so long that no decision is needed anymore. Australians do not polder! Well, some of us do, but then the rest really gets frustrated. Among the Dutch, however, there is a very high willingness of subordinates to say “Yes, but …” to discuss endlessly about decisions, about plans, about anything. But … we are in the minority here. So we need to adapt ourselves.

It may be added that the relatively strong presence of civilians in the Dutch contingent contributed to an atmosphere that was less strictly military, i.e. less formal and hierarchical. To this we will turn later in this chapter. The Dutch command practices required the Australians – being in the minority – to adapt their workplace behaviour to that displayed by the Dutch. In general, this worked out positively. To enable collaboration, Australian personnel conformed to the less rigid work practices of the Dutch, although the hierarchical distance and resulting behaviours they were used to normally were more rigid: Also there are differences, and sometimes difficulties, in formal and informal communication. We [Australians] are more formal and more rank conscious. Firm, fair, and friendly to one another, but not familiar. Some distance is to be maintained. (…) There is no way that my good little buddy, the assistant to the commander [a Dutch Captain], would call me [an Australian Lieutenant-Colonel] anything else but “sir” back in Australia or in another headquarters. But here, in a Dutch headquarters, I let him. I fit in.

Linguistic distance compounded the difficulty; clearly, language matters in the internationally operating military (Van Dijk and Soeters, 2008). With English being the official NATO language and the large presence of Australian staff, there was no doubt that English was the language to be spoken in meetings and briefings. While the Dutch generally mastered English well enough to interact in day-to-day workplace behaviour, some lacked proficiency in technical and written English: (…) I [Australian] don’t speak Dutch, so I am very happy that English is the main language here … But it is NATO, so a grasp of English is important for all personnel. And while ninety-five to ninety-nine percent of Dutch staff speaks English at conversation level, only fifteen to twenty percent speaks English at operational level … and the ability to write in English is lacking specifically … And I don’t even mean colloquialisms. In international headquarters … the language will always be English. But now some [Dutch] key players do not have this proficiency.

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Although the official policy was to communicate in the same language (English), Australian staff sometimes felt uncomfortable speaking to Dutch officers whose proficiency was not sufficient. They adapted their language practices accordingly. Despite English being the official language, Dutch was then, incidentally, used to facilitate collaboration: With any other nation it would have been a lot more difficult but still, they [Dutch] are not native speakers. And there is one thing that is even more dangerous than a Dutchman speaking English to me. That is a Dutchman speaking English to another Dutchman  ... So if I am heading a meeting, and these Dutchmen are speaking English so that I can understand … I have them speak in Dutch. That works much faster and is much more efficient than when they are speaking in English.

Besides affecting personnel, multinationality also prevented technology in the Task Force from being integrated. Different security domains as well as separately developed systems implied highly secure, rigidly configured infrastructures that allowed little or no interconnection. Even though most personnel were willing to share information, they often ran into problems because a lack of technical interoperability hampered the exchange of information between national domains and systems, as explained by an Australian Lieutenant-Colonel: Interoperability is a problem. Acquisition of equipment is different. We see it here … It all sounds like computery and wiggly kind of shit to me, but it is significant. Those differences will always be there and we can’t do anything about it. But we face it on a daily basis … So to overcome these problems, we develop local workarounds. And the willingness is there. We have to cooperate. Because if we don’t, we risk the lives of soldiers.

Indeed, Australian and Dutch personnel were locally interdependent. Not only did they have to integrate their efforts, they also had to de-conflict operations of their tactical elements. Recognizing the importance of information for mission effectiveness, staff at Camp Holland felt highly motivated to ‘make it work.’ They developed local workarounds for establishing and sustaining an adequate infrastructure. Besides equipping bases and patrols with different command and control systems, this involved reconfiguring existing systems, adjusting concepts of operations, and changing procedures. Together with the (mutual) adaptation of practices, this enabled the collaboration at Camp Holland to run fairly smoothly.

The Singapore military on stage

A constant challenge TFU was facing was how to deal with rocket attacks at Camp Holland. Initially, TFU headquarters had no capability to accurately detect incoming artillery fire. In September 2009 a Singaporean Force Protection element was

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added to the Task Force. An ARTHUR (Artillery Hunting Radar) Weapon Locating System now enabled TFU to locate insurgents’ artillery launchers. Moreover, it provided Camp Holland with early warning of rocket attacks. The Singaporean contribution changed the configuration of the Task Force. Since the existent headquarters and the new element had no established relationships yet, interactions during the first few weeks involved getting to know each other and developing adequate work and information practices. It soon turned out that several obstacles stood in the way of seamless collaboration. Singapore did not belong to NATO nor was it a Partnership-for-Peace (PfP) nation. A consequence hereof was the presence of a multitude of different caveats and security domains. Adding to the complexity was the cultural distance between Dutch, Australian and Singaporean personnel. In fact, none of the staff at Camp Holland had working experience with the Singapore Armed Forces. This altogether led to scepticism about the intentions of the new unit. Some personnel felt that the Singaporean element was (at least partially) driven by hidden agendas, as acknowledged by both Dutch and Australian personnel: Although they are part of the team, Singapore is not a NATO nation and Singapore is well known for its intelligence gathering activities. So they may have other motives for being here. It all comes down I think to national trust … Even though we are all operating under ISAF, nations do not have altruistic motives. And that is what impedes progress … The Singaporeans are shut out internationally because they are known to be intelligence gatherers. The level of trust toward their motives is lacking. Have I [Australian] personally experienced this? No. Have I heard this from a variety of sources? Yes. What do they really have in their radars? Or in their systems? We just don’t know.

The arrival of the Force Protection element led to an interdependence between the Dutch, the Australians and the Singaporeans. The newly inserted element obviously required operations and intelligence information from the headquarters to conduct its operations. Nevertheless, a (temporary) lack of confidence hampered integration. Most staff indeed acknowledged the difficulties that were brought by the new collaboration. Recognizing the distinctive capability of the weapon locating radar, they also understood the importance of collaboration and particularly of mutual information exchange. An Australian Captain echoed the observations of his colleagues, but simultaneously expressed his concerns: Singapore provides a specific capability to our mission … which is a capability that we do not have ourselves. Despite this support, a lot of people are sceptical ... That may be legitimate, it may not, but you may need to risk some of your ideals to be effective.

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Similarly, a Dutch Officer described it as follows: ‘The Singaporeans are shut out of all the networks based on invalid security considerations.’ Indeed, interdependence required collaboration. Insurgents’ ability to fire rockets at Camp Holland posed a severe threat to the coalition forces in Tarin Kowt. Even though the weapon locating radar from Singapore had a distinctive capability, different security domains, disconnected technical networks, cultural distance and a lack of confidence contributed to the challenge of achieving integration. Physical distance even further complicated the situation. For the most part, Task Force and Force Protection personnel were physically and socially isolated from one another. The Singaporean element was located only in the periphery of Camp Holland. Social interaction, a prerequisite for the emergence of confidence, was therefore difficult: Also, the Singaporeans are not stationed at the base. Between the Dutch and the Australians there is much more integration. We have day-to-day interaction, both professional and social. You know, it takes time to establish relationships … Once such relationships exist, integration follows, information sharing follows. But trust is paramount. And therefore you need to see each other.

Being excluded from information flows caused some frustration among the Singaporean personnel. This was expressed in the way they felt restricted in their day-today operational functions. A Singaporean Major explained how all of these issues affected information exchange: Currently we have enough information to do our job. When I ask information, it is given to me. But it has to improve. We need assessments. They [Dutch and Australian personnel] don’t know what information we need, so they give me what they think we need. And they are not comfortable to give me the information because I am not Dutch or Australian … At the base they think we are gathering and probing for information. When I request information they think I want to be funny. But we simply need the information to do our job.

Whereas Singaporean personnel had to conform to the information practices that were imposed by the Dutch and the Australians (and also by the lack of technical infrastructure), relationships were anticipated to emerge in the near future. As was also recognized by the Major: We need more understanding and we need a common infrastructure to communicate. We arrived only a few weeks ago, so it should improve.

The ongoing interactional practices between the Dutch, the Australians and the Singaporeans allowed them to build confidence. Moreover, in due time the Singaporeans were about to be given access to the technical networks of the Task Force,

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allowing for increased collaboration. Due to the fact that Singapore is not a NATOmember state and also perhaps because of prejudicial attitudes, the maturing of the collaboration took longer than expected.

Dutch neglect?

Issues of confidence, however, not only pertained to Singaporean personnel in the Task Force. The Dutch were also subject to different levels of collaboration. While the lack of confidence in the Singaporean contribution was driven by concerns about intentions, in the case of the Dutch it pertained to the protection of information. This was particularly evident when it came to intelligence information. Personnel at Camp Holland not only had the task to collect information and disseminate it to troops that needed it in their operations. They also had to protect the information from unauthorized disclosure. It turned out that non-Dutch staff in Tarin Kowt felt that the information practices of their Dutch colleagues often were somewhat illegitimate. Work and information practices of the Dutch were not always very well understood: People keep opening my [Australian Major] stuff [files and documents] on this network. It’s a pain in the ass … And that is typical for the Dutch. Has nothing to do with need to know, this is nice to know … and that is exactly the approach the Dutch have taken in their operations. It is in their culture.

Dutch personnel in Tarin Kowt indeed were aware of the fact that their international coalition partners questioned their information practices that sometimes seemed to be a bit naive. A Dutch Major recalled a joke he heard from his Australian colleagues: How do you recognize Dutch troops in Afghanistan? Everybody takes shelter during a rocket attack but the Dutch are going to the roof to see where the rockets are coming from.

It not only led to cynicism about Dutch information practices. Units deployed to Afghanistan need to demonstrate adequate security practices to be included in information flows. Policies, procedures, and standards thereby serve as a source of confidence. It turned out that this confidence was exactly what was missing among the Dutch community. Dutch personnel, as a result thereof, felt at times excluded from information flows. As the following two intelligence officers acknowledged: When it comes to security we [Dutch] are often compared with PfP-countries. So nations like the United States … are not very inclined to share information with us. It all comes down to security mindset. Operations Security issues are rigidly prescribed in all sorts of formal documents and procedures … But these are not applied in the Netherlands! Because in the Netherlands, we don’t want secu-

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rity, we want easy communication … We prefer workability over security. Also Australia is much stricter in terms of Operations Security than we are, because they do stick to the procedures. Of course, errors are being made, not only in the Netherlands. Also in Australia and the United States. You are never totally sure that the information is dealt with in proper ways. But it starts with a proper security mindset. And that mindset is missing in the Netherlands. FOUR EYES nations … all have pretty rigorous systems … and mindsets when it comes to information. This is not the case in the Netherlands. I wish it was. We are known for our bad Operations Security.

Recognizing the critical importance of intelligence information, personnel in Tarin Kowt adapted their information practices. To compensate for what they considered deficiencies of security policies, procedures, and standards, intelligence officers heavily relied on social networks to enable collaboration. This essentially meant establishing and reinforcing their personal relationships in the intelligence community. The ongoing interactional practices allowed them to build confidence. Moreover, it afforded them a localized yet adequate infrastructure to exchange intelligence information in Southern Afghanistan.

Case observation 2: Hand-over, Take-over (Summer 2010) In June 2010 ISAF and the Australian government announced that multinational Combined Taskforce Uruzgan, commanded by US Colonel Jim Creighton, would take over command of all ISAF activities in Uruzgan province. In the same month, the Netherlands and Australian governments announced that the Netherlands was handing over command for Deh Rawod, Chora and Deh Rafshan West to US and Australian forces. With this transfer of authority, the Netherlands ended its mission in Uruzgan. As of August 2010, an American-led coalition force including Australian, Slovak and Singaporean soldiers has replaced the Dutch Battle Group and Provincial Reconstruction Team, consisting of 1,900 soldiers and civilians. The Dutch Foreign Affairs Ministry said in a statement that the security situation in central Uruzgan province had improved ‘considerably’ since the beginning of the Dutch operations four years earlier. In 2010 the province had trained and made available 1,600 police officers of the Afghan National Police, a 100% gain in four years. It sounded like an argument – or even an excuse – for the Dutch to leave the province. Due to the hand-over take-over Taskforce Uruzgan (TFU) has become the Combined Taskforce Uruzgan (CTU) and Base Command Tarin Kowt (Camp Holland) has been renamed Multinational Base Tarin Kowt (MBTK). Since August 2010, Australia has become responsible for the security, accommodation, infrastructure and communications facilities of all international military personnel in Uruzgan.

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The command of the Police Mentoring Team (PMT) in Tarin Kowt has been handed over to the Americans. The PMTs are responsible for building up and training the Afghan police force. Earlier handovers had taken place in Chora and Deh Rawod.

First assessments

Explaining his view on what needed to be done, Colonel Creighton stressed the fact there was no acting Government in Uruzgan, especially not a Governor in command. In his view, good government is essential for a tribal state. Since the beginning of his command he learned that all elders in Uruzgan province want a central government, ‘… providing services to them like sending teachers and doctors’. However, he put this view into perspective by stating there is not one single solution. ‘There are many problems and you have to use your toolbox.’ He says the Dutch have influenced his plan. He had full access to Dutch information. ‘On the 24th of June I was in The Hague to discuss the results and assessments of the Dutch. It was great!’ He does not believe there are different national military operational styles. ‘It is only the individual who matters…’ The first civilian Australian Director of the international provincial reconstruction team (PRT) saw it as his task to empower the Afghan Government, ‘by working with a political strategy and a development strategy. This state and capacity building is supported by delivering security... That is the prime task of the military. Security is a precondition for every state. What’s here important is freedom of movement and basic construction building.’ Later he stated: ‘The comprehensive approach is difficult for indicators. The problem is small, small province, not so many inhabitants, only 80 key players, but it is so complex!’ About his Dutch predecessors he revealed: ‘My function, with two hats, is partly taken over from the Netherlands. We have no mission teams like the Dutch with their permanent stay at several places.’ On the question whether he is on the same hierarchical level as commander CFU Creighton, like the Dutch had, he answered: ‘Not just like that… but sort of.’ In February 2011, he stated in a monthly pamphlet for PRT Uruzgan: It has now been six months since the transfer of authority from a Dutch-led PRT to a multinational PRT. We’re truly one of the most diverse PRTs in Afghanistan, with 175 civilian and military personnel drawn from the United States, Australia, Slovakia and the Netherlands.

A Dutch advisor on development issues, who stayed after the Dutch military had left, said: during these first weeks I noticed minor differences between our approach and the American and Australian one. There is a lot they have taken over from us, from the development point of view. They are starting to build more out in the

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province. I thought they wanted to go for the quick wins. Still, this is a transition PRT, half October the real PRT will arrive. I hope they will hold this line. My first impressions are really positive.

He continued with: the new CTF is working more out in the province. We as TFU were more restrained. Another difference is that this PRT has his own protection force. Maybe this is a “lessons learned” for us … to bring the military and PRT under one command. Sometimes there were complaints about us bringing in last minute requests and TFU had to adjust plans again. And we were not allowed to leave the gate without troops.

Commander Kyle Higgins confirmed the fact that the Dutch had provided them with many documents and assessments from Chora, Deh Rawood and Tarin Kowt. Higgins was the first military commander of the international provincial reconstruction team in Uruzgan. He was deployed for four months in the province Parwan and was then transferred with a part of his team to Uruzgan. He stressed the fact that this PRT is unique in Afghanistan because of its multinational composition, comprising military as well civilian staff members. For instance, there are Australian and Slowakian officers in the team, with an Australian as civilian Director. ‘The Dutch have done a lot of work. We have to continue this line, otherwise it will be a disaster when we stop and start other activities.’ The month of July was reserved for the hand-over take-over with the Dutch. ‘But it was more the Dutch pushing the information instead of us pulling the information, it was a lot of information.’ But of course, ‘I will transfer all the information to the team behind me.’ Kirsten, an American reserve officer of the PRT, also came from the province of Parwan: Here you rarely see any females, that is a big difference from Parwan. They all go inside as we go out. And I don’t have a female interpreter like the Dutch, so I can’t go out and speak to them. With the Dutch female in the team I haven’t spoken either. I only have a set of binders about assessments. We should have taken more time for the hand-over take-over. Now we had only a few weeks. We had to talk it more over. The information in the binders is good, with photographs, etc.

Major Richard Peace – a promising name! – was an Australian Engineer at the PRT. Talking about the hand-over take-over, he said: The Dutch are too polite. I think they won’t order us. And the focus changed from construction to training. The Dutch were local here, they knew the region. It is bad we don’t have enough teams, so we have to pick up the relations later.

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I am frustrated. Headquarters is filled with most Australians, so we should be lead nation here; we have the capacity. Our brigade is the same as yours. We have CIMIC, reservists. Yet, the Australians and Americans are too kinetic. There is no training on CIMIC or how to focus on locals. There was the wrong preparation, too kinetic. We are gunslingers. My engineering corps has experience in helping and rebuilding ... But this is an exception in the army. Relationships are important out here. We don’t look at people we send in whether they are able to start new relations. It depends of this capability, gathering new information and starting relations. That is important to the Afghans. The strategic corporal is very important. He can do a lot of wrong things on the ground.

The Dutch leaving the scene

The commander of the last Dutch PRT, deployed from March 2010 till the late summer, knew their work would be taken over by another PRT. From April on, a number of countries were interested in taking over the job, and delegates visited Uruzgan to be informed about the conditions and circumstances. But none of them signed in because of the financial consequences and the fact the successor would only perform worse because ‘the Dutch were doing a great job.’ The Australians, already deployed to Uruzgan, were not interested in the PRT-job, because the Australian government did not want to become the lead nation in Uruzgan. In May, the USA signed in because no real alternative had emerged. The US-PRT that was stationed at that time in Parwan, a small and quiet province, was appointed to immediately take over the Uruzgan job from the Dutch. This US-team had just started to work effectively in Parwan. But on request South Korea had been ready to take over the job in Parwan. In June, the first American quartermasters started their activities in Uruzgan, in July the main body arrived. But most of their equipment and materiel was still in Parwan. Instead of being interested in the hand-over-take-over, the US-PRT was busy with their cabins, desks and realigning their short supplies. Their motivation was fairly low because of the quick and unexpected transfer to the more dangerous tribal province Uruzgan. There were more causes of friction to occur, however. In July, the Dutch finished their preparations for the actual hand-over take-over, all available information filed and recorded in binders, CDs, and DVDs. Nevertheless, without communication facilities that were still located in Parwan, there was not a lot to start up in the province. On top of this, during the first combined patrol in the hand-over take-over program, an American vehicle ran on an IED near Deh Rawood. After this, the hand-over take-over in the field was over until all necessary equipment had become available. To render the transition more successful, an extensive hand-over take-over program was organized by the Dutch Commander of the last Dutch PRT and his staff. This took place in September 2010 in Indiana, USA. Apart from briefings, the handover take-over program entailed activities to coach and train the US-PRT that con-

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sisted of personnel from the 189th Infantry Brigade. Originally this PRT had been scheduled to deploy to Parwan (like their predecessors). But like their predecessors who had suddenly been ordered to move from Parwan to Uruzgan, this PRT was rescheduled to deploy to Uruzgan. At the beginning, the American reaction to the programme was a bit distant, but gradually they relaxed and became more accepting of its thoroughgoing content. Of course they had heard the stories from their mates in Uruzgan about the professional way the Dutch PRTs had worked during the past four years and the successes they had gained. This hand-over take-over program became a full training program and for some functionaries even an extended coaching ‘session’ of two weeks. Clearly, the hand-over take-over from the Dutch to the Americans and Australians was a transfer of what in international business studies is known as ‘sticky information’ (Kumar et al., 2009). This type of information is difficult and costly to transfer to others because the knowledge involved is tacit, complex, uncertain, equivocal and ambiguous. To be able to ‘unstick’ the information, the Dutch did their best to codify the information in documents and all sorts of information holders. In addition, they invested in reducing stickiness by organizing the hand-over take-over program. Yet, this did not prevent the emergence of differences in the operational approaches immediately after the transfer of command had taken place.

Comparing operational and policy styles

Differences in culture and procedures aside, the structure and aim of the Dutch and the – US dominated – international PRT were rather different. Whereas the Dutch PRT counted thirty people working on civil affairs, the American-led international PRT at that time had six of them. The Dutch PRT had three highly qualified captains and one warrant officer dedicated to working on intelligence, the Americans assigned one sergeant to do the job. The Dutch PRT counted seven civilians, whereas the new international PRT counted only three of them. Contrasting the Dutch approach, there were hardly any PRT-elements at the company and platoon level of the American and Australian units. Additionally, the Dutch Taskforce Uruzgan (TFU) used to have a dual – equally balanced civilian-military – leadership, whereas the international PRT and Combined Taskforce Uruzgan still had a single, military commander. During the last 9 months of their deployment a civil servant had been in full command of the Dutch PRT, emphasizing the declining influence of the military in the activities of the Dutch PRT. In general, the US dominated international PRT had substantially more of a military character (including more force protection) than the Dutch PRT used to have. The American and Australian military people, not being trained and used to working with civilians, had understandably clear difficulties in accepting this ‘bizarre’ way of operating. A difference having far-reaching consequences was the fact that the US PRT works with interpreters coming from eastern Afghanistan who have no relations with people in Uruzgan. It is common for the US Army to hire interpreters from

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outside the immediate operational area. This practice is based on security reasons, because in this way connections with local actors are less likely to develop. In contrast, the Dutch PRT used Afghan-Dutch interpreters, i.e., former asylum-seekers originating from this region as well as locally hired interpreters, who had been working for them for several years. Hence, interpreters working for the Dutch tend to stay involved in the mission and the mission area much longer than the average soldier or civilian does (Bos and Soeters, 2006). Through this approach and by making use of so-called cultural advisors who stayed in the area for a longer period, the Dutch worked on long-term relationships, aiming to really know the tribes and their tribal leaders and creating serious forms of cooperation. This difference in working with interpreters displays another difference, at a higher level. From the outset of their mission, the Dutch tried to create an insight in the Afghan community, carefully maintaining checks and balances between the rivalling tribes and the various Taliban networks that render this province so ‘unruly’ (van Bijlert, 2009). Obviously, this approach – the ‘Dutch approach’, the ‘Dutch touch’ – reflects the consensus seeking character that dominates Dutch society and also the Dutch military. It is an example of a people-centric approach in irregular conflicts. The Americans and Australians on the other hand had been emphasizing the search for terrorists at the ‘ratlines’ (the roads and rendezvous points favourite among the Taliban). Immediately after the command had been taken over, the Americans pursued this enemy-centric approach by putting the most significant local leader in power again. They grant(ed) him a lot of money and legitimate power and even train(ed) his forces, in order to restore order and safety and rebuild the communities and region. Clearly, this is a huge difference in ‘key-leader engagement’. Before commencing the mission in Uruzgan, Dutch politicians and military leaders had demanded the resignation of the Uruzgan governor Jan Mohammed Khan, in March 2006. This Jan Mohammed had suppressed the other Pashtu tribes, pushing them in the arms of Taliban (Derksen, 2010: 119). He favoured his Popolzai tribe, backed by Afghan president Hamid Karzai who also originates from this population group. Another family member – a cousin – was warlord Matiullah Khan. He had a lot of power in Uruzgan, too. Pressured by political considerations expressed in Dutch parliament, the Dutch contingent outflanked him as well because of his suppression of the other tribes, even though he was anti-Taliban. Dutch, international and Afghan experts and stakeholders have applauded this patient, careful approach levelling the playing field in the province (Derksen, 2010: 126; Boom, 2010: 296-297). But this may have turned these former powerbrokers into ‘spoilers’ in the whole conflict situation during the period the Dutch were in Uruzgan. These ‘spoilers’ have indeed sometimes attacked the Dutch military or stood aside when the heat was on (Derksen, 2010: 123). Clearly, in the myriad of relations of tribes and hetero-

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geneous Taliban networks (van Bijlert, 2009), it was difficult to discern who the real opponents were (Derksen, 2010: 133; de Bont, 2011). After having learned from the Dutch that it is important to be in touch with the population, the Americans started to follow their own route and embrace the powerful Popolzai tribe again to help them gain control in the province. Members of Matiullah Khan’s militia were even trained in Australia. The second change in approach was that the US military increased their presence outside the gates. By all this the balance has flipped again creating a positive impact on many fields of development (safety, legislation, economy) and provincial institutions (government, increasing numbers of Afghan policemen and soldiers). Although Dutch and Afghan experts and stakeholders have criticized the American top-down “power”-approach (Derksen, 2010; Boom, 2010), the first impressions do not seem to be bad (Vlasbom, 2011). The presence of the Americans and Austalians has been extended to places in Uruzgan where the Dutch had not come, bringing more security and development to those remote areas. The security situation in the province capital, however, seems to have worsened due to a large number of bomb- and suicide attacks (Righton and Khpelwak, 2011). On 17, July 2011, Jan Mohammed Khan, who had become a top-advisor to president Karzai, was killed in a fight with unknown gunmen; like a number of other officials closely connected to Karzai. One year after the hand-over take-over the results are mixed. Despite increasing worries about the safety of ordinary citizens, the emphasis on military action by the Americans and Australians has not led to the overt, all-out hostility that was expected to result from this. One of the reasons may be that the Americans, even though they supported them both, did not put Jan Mohammed and Mutiallah Khan in formal power. In this they kept the same route as the Dutch had done before. The positions of Chief of Police and Governor were granted to people from outside the province. These people seem to be doing a good job so far. Another reason for this unexpected result may be the fact that the Dutch had created the right circumstances for the US to pursue this next step in stabilizing Uruzgan.

Interacting and experimenting Multinational military cooperation is here to stay. This creates new challenges as well as new opportunities for the military. As our case-observations showed, multinational interaction in a mission does not become a smooth endeavour without paying due attention to its potential fault lines: divergence in language skills, differences in operational and organizational cultures, variation in information and security operations, and differences in political support and backing. Mutual adjustment is something for all parties in the mission to deal with, as the Dutch, the Australians and – somewhat later – the unit from Singapore were able to show in Camp

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Holland. Mutual adaptation needs to emerge, slowly, carefully, with hurdles, muddling through perhaps, but nonetheless it needs to occur. At the same time, multinational military cooperation offers new opportunities to find out what works in these types of missions. As said in the beginning, politicians, the military and the academic community know surprisingly little about what works in reducing violent hostilities in fragile states in far-flung areas. By carefully comparing different styles – as displayed in the different provinces by different national contingents –, or by comparing different styles that emerge if one national contingent takes over the work from another national contingent, it will be possible to learn more about the effectiveness of operational approaches and working styles. The difference in approach between the Dutch on the one hand and the Americans and Australians on the other is remarkable, but still undecided in terms of its impact on the situation on the ground, in everyday-life. But the military from the various nations tend to learn from each other (Soeters, 2008). However different national operational styles may be, in the concrete arena of Uruzgan there has been learning and listening just to ascertain the best possible solutions to get the job done. The experiment is still unfolding, and probably every stage in the process requires its own approach. As for now, the mission in Uruzgan is still unfinished business.

Note 1 The authors of this chapter want to thank Captain Mirjam Grandia Mantas for the use of the data she collected together with the second author during a fieldtrip to Uruzgan in September 2010. We also thank Lieutenant-colonel E. Lobbezoo, the last PRT commander of the Dutch TFU-contingent, for his in-depth comments on various drafts of this chapter

References Bont, E. de (2011) Onder Taliban en krijgsheren. Nederland en de oorlog in Afghanistan (Among Taliban and War Lords. Netherlands and the War in Afghanistan). Amsterdam: Nieuw Amsterdam. Boom, J. (2010) Als een nacht met duizend sterren. Oorlogsjournalistiek in Uruzgan (Like a night with a thousand stars. War journalism in Uruzgan). Amsterdam: Uitgeverij Podium/BKB. Bos, G. and Soeters, J. (2006) Interpreters at work: experiences from Dutch and Belgian peace operations. International Peacekeeping 13(2), 261-268. Derksen, D. (2010) Thee met de Taliban. Oorlogsverslaggeving voor beginners (Tea with the Taliban. War Journalism for beginners). Breda: de Geus.

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Kumar, K., van Fenema, P. and von Glinow, A. (2009) Offshoring and the global distribution of work: implications for task interdependence theory and practice. Journal of International Business Studies 40, 642-667. Righton, N. and Khpelwak, A.J. (2011) Uruzgan, een jaar later (Uruzgan, One Year Later). de Volkskrant (Augustus 1: 6-7). Soeters, J. (2008) Afghanistan talks. Experiential isomorphism in the military. In: Caforio, G. Kümmel, G. and Purkayastha, B. (eds.) Armed Forces and Conflict Resolution: Sociological Perspectives, Bingley: Emerald Group, 139-156. Soeters, J. and Manigart, Ph. (2008) Military Cooperation in Multinational Peace Operations. Managing Cultural Diversity and Crisis Response. London and NY: Routledge. Soeters, J. and T. Szvircsev Tresch (2010) Towards cultural integration in multinational peace operations. Defence Studies 10(1-2), 272-287. Van Bijlert, M. (2009) Unruly commanders and violent power struggles: Taliban networks in Uruzgan. In: Giustozzi, A. (ed.) Decoding the New Taliban. Insights from the Afghan Field, 155-178. Van Dijk, A. and Soeters, J. (2008) Language matters in the military. In: Caforio, G. Kümmel, G. and Purkayastha, B. (eds.) Armed Forces and Conflict Resolution: Sociological Perspectives, Bingley: Emerald Group, 303-325. Van den Heuvel, G. (2012) Entangling Information Sharing, Ph.D. Thesis University of Tilburg. Van Iterson, A. (2000) Rules of action in Dutch work organizations. Netherlands Journal of Social Sciences 36(2), 176-187. Vlasbom, D. (2011) Nu de Nederlanders weg zijn, kan er veel meer in Tarin Kowt (Now the Dutch have left, much more is possible in Tarin Kowt). NRC Handelsblad 2/3 (April): 10-11.

Part III Reconstruction

13

Reconstruction through construction Julia Wijnmalen, Jasper Kremers and Edwin Dado

Introduction The general goal of Taskforce Uruzgan (TFU) was to ‘promote stability in Afghanistan and support the authorities’ reconstruction efforts’ (Dutch Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 2006). This multidimensional and ambitious goal was to be obtained through reconstruction activities, development and by creating a secure environment (Mollema and Matthijssen, 2009). The aim of reconstruction is often partially materialized in construction activities (Barakat, 2002; Dutch Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 2006; Greet, 2010; Kamphuis, 2010; Kremers et al., 2010). The focus in this chapter is on construction projects outside the compound as it is in these situations that construction activities can be a very powerful tool in achieving the ambitious goal of creating security and stability in fragile states such as Afghanistan. Fragile states are an important topic on the political agenda of the Dutch government as ‘(t)he division between internal and external security has become more blurred’ (Drent and Zandee, 2010). In order for the Dutch armed forces to be more successful in future missions, it is very useful to analyze the case of Uruzgan and to identify the challenges and subtract the lessons learned. In the first part of this chapter a general introduction of the concept of reconstruction, its effects, and a project management model are discussed. This project management model will be used to indicate where in the management process the challenges are occurring. Practical solutions used in Uruzgan are looked at and insights from project management and developmental aid theory are used to shed some light on the encountered challenges. Finally, a conclusion will be drawn about the role of construction activities in the reconstruction process of a fragile state. Most of the information presented in this chapter was retrieved from interviews with numerous military engineers and others involved in construction activities who have served in Uruzgan. The semi-structured interviews were conducted by the first author in the period of August 2010 to January 2011.

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Problem analysis In this chapter the level of analysis is at the tactical level. At this level military officials tried, in cooperation with local authorities and contractors, to turn the abstract goals of the mandate into more tangible goals. As previously mentioned, the general goal of the TFU was to promote stability in Afghanistan and support the authorities’ reconstruction efforts. Reconstruction efforts as an activity consist of both a conceptual and a physical element. Examples of conceptual reconstruction are a new law system, better general health facilities, new school system, new economic rules and regulations, and so on. And in order to achieve all these positive changes physical reconstruction activities are required, such as new roads, schools, electrical plants, and clean drinking water. Subsequently, physical reconstruction is needed to obtain the conceptual reconstruction. Additionally, the process of physical construction influences the conceptual reconstruction (Van der Voet, 2008; Kremers, 2009); for example capacity building influences the economic situation of a state. The effects of physical (re)construction activities can be divided into three groups: (1) symbolic, (2) functional and (3) secondary effects. A case (see text box) is used to clarify the link between conceptual and physical reconstruction and to illuminate the three different effects of physical construction. Central Uruzgan (2007) Instability and small scale conflict occurred in an important multi-tribal area. The Dutch armed forces feared that the unrest in this area would lead to an increase of influence of insurgents in this region, therefore the Provincial Reconstruction Team (PRT) decided to investigate the causes of the unrest. This investigation revealed that there was a shortage of water for irrigation purposes and that the area is characterized by tension between the different tribes. The shortage of water was caused by a failing irrigation canal due to damage and lack of maintenance. The origin of the tribal disagreement was age-old and clouded in history. The tribal disagreement was both cause and effect of the neglected canal as a fair distribution of water could only be achieved through cooperation between the neighbouring tribes. But the distribution of this scarce resource was much contested and caused conflict between the tribes. At first the failing irrigation canal seemed to be a simple technical problem, however later it appeared to be an important factor in the area’s conflict dynamics. The PRT understood the context of the failing irrigation canal and realized that a solution was needed, which attends both the technical problem and the underlying conflict. However as the PRT itself did not have the required historical understanding of the local playing field, a suitable mediator was needed. This mediator needed to be someone, preferably from the local authorities, who had expertise on the subject of irrigation and, most importantly, who would be accepted by both tribes. Luckily

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someone who fitted this profile was found. A proposition to set up a communitybased organization was made by the mediator and the tribes to the PRT. This organization would consist of people from different tribes and would execute the improvement and maintenance of the canal. Thus, the mediator was able to provide the tribes with a tangible overarching goal. Part of the resources needed, such as shovels, were provided by the PRT in a low-profile way. In sum, the execution of the repair work on the canal and the agreement regarding the maintenance indirectly brought together different tribes, and (a section of) the local government. The PRT checked the progress of the work, but kept a rather lowprofile during the mediation- and the repair-process.

The case in the textbox indicates how physical construction can have effects beyond the functionality of the object which is being (re)constructed. The functional effect of the canal was providing means for irrigation of farmland. In addition, there were two symbolic consequences of the canal: (1) it showed the local population that the local government could really make a difference and (2) it created the idea of achievable economic improvement for the people. Moreover, there were plenty of secondary effects, such as increased acceptance of the local government and the TFU forces, deeper understanding of the local situation, capacity building for the local government and population, diminishing the ground for insurgent influence and stimulation of the local economy and employment by the direct and indirect influx of money. Physical construction objects in Uruzgan were the result of a construction process (or activities) by the PRT. The PRT consisted of military and civilian (local) personnel. Each object and its constituting processes is regarded as a construction project that is managed according the principles of (construction) project management. Figure 13.1 shows the generic project management model which is often used in modern project management literature. A construction process can be regarded as a transformation process that consumes (IN) elements, such as materials and manpower, and which produces (OUT) elements; physical (direct) and non-physical (indirect). This process has a time dimension and during its progress the project manager receives information through the feed forward and the feedback loops. The project manager has the possibility to exert influence (Control) on the process, when the output does not comply with certain indicated (quality) guidelines. Many (construction) researchers and practioners (e.g., Hodiamont, 2010; Kremers, 2010; Perito, 2009) have indicated that physical construction projects in Uruzgan often produce output which do not fully meet either quality standards (object) or other goals of the CA (processes). The elements of the model will be used to group the problems which are related to physical construction projects in Uruzgan and to indicate where in the process there is room for possible improvements.

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Figure 13.1 Project management model (Pidd, 1996)

Input

Workforce related problems

Afghanistan is ranked as the world’s second poorest and least developed country (UNDP, 2009). The percentage of the population which received a proper education is very low. Consequently the number of local contractors and skilled workers is small and the quality of their work is low in comparison with western standards (Azarbaijani-Moghaddam et al., 2008; Kremers, 2009; Lister and Karaev, 2004; Wijnmaalen, 2010). This large difference in level of development became evident when the PRT received project proposals which proposed wells of 10 kilometers deep and asked 30 million dollars for a small dam (Van Lamoen and Most van Spijk, 2007; Wijnmaalen, 2010).

Problems related to material and equipment

Construction materials and aggregates are hardly available in Aghanistan (Lister and Karaev, 2004; Wijnmaalen, 2010). Moreover when materials are available they are often of a lesser quality and more expensive as they are imported from countries such as China, Uzbekistan and Russia (Lister and Karaev, 2004; Wijnmaalen, 2010). There is also a lot of fraud in the material trade market, for example brand names of quality companies are abused to sell low quality materials (Lister and Karaev, 2004). In addition, construction equipment, like tower cranes, are hardly available and when they are available they are very incomplete and old at best. Most Afghans do not own a shovel or a wheelbarrow. The only ‘materiel’ of which Afghanistan has plenty is: man-power. An illustrative example of this fact is a story told by a military official who hired an Afghan contractor to dig a hole of nine cubical meters. The contractor arrived with several men and a couple of shovels instead of an excavator.

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Availability of information

There is hardly any information available regarding city planning or the underground infrastructure and when there is it mostly outdated. An example: in the planning phase of the construction of a police training centre, an Afghan official came to the military base with an old drawing from the seventies which showed the city plans for the city of Tarin Kowt. Likewise there are no official records regarding land ownership, which causes problems when there are plans to construct an object (Lister and Karaev, 2004). The Dutch armed forces were often confronted with Afghanis who claimed that the land which the forces were using was theirs and they demanded money for it. Additionally, there is a lack of statistical or base-line data (Danish Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 2005). For example there is no information regarding the amount of water that passes through a river (run-off ). The lack of this kind of information hampers engineers when they design bridges and/or dams.

Specific characteristics of the construction sector

The construction sector in Afghanistan is an open market: everyone who wants to start as a construction worker or contractor can. As mentioned before, there are only a few good contractors who are capable of construction work which complies with the quality guidelines of the armed forces. These contractors are aware of their power position and they use it to their advantage by demanding very high prices for their work (Azarbaijani-Moghaddam et al., 2008; Wijnmaalen, 2010). Additionally, the contractors also use their power to dominate other smaller contractors and civilians in their region. This domination often took on a mafia-like character; it often happened that smaller contractors came to the Dutch compound with a large black eye to resign the project or that contractors turned out to be part of the client-circle of a local strongman (powerbroker meddling).

Process

Workforce related problems

There were many problems concerning communication with the local population. Language barriers imposed challenges for verbal communication between military officials and the local population, as many Afghans do not speak English and hardly any of the military officials speak Pashtu. Secondly, there were problems with jargon; many of the translators only speak basic English and do not know the specific construction jargon. Furthermore, the Afghan workforce has a different work ethos and traditions. An example of different traditions is the value of the spoken word: an Afghan contractor values the spoken word more than the written word and will therefore not use written contracts. This tradition is rooted in the fact that many Afghans cannot read or write and the fact that Afghanistan has a strong oral tradition (Kremers et

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al., 2010). Changes in the agreement were not rare. Also the sentence in-shallah (God willing) was added when an agreement was made. This sentence implied that not all could be managed by mankind, however it also provided an easy excuse for delay. Differences in work ethos were found in issues such as punctuality, work tempo and time-management.

Lack of rules and regulations

In Afghanistan no formalized rules and regulations exist regarding the construction process or the extraction of aggregates (Kremers, 2009; Lister and Karaev, 2004). Likewise, there are no quality guidelines for constructed objects: everyone builds in the way they see fit (Lister and Karaev, 2004; Wijnmaalen, 2010), which could be extremely dangerous in an earthquake prone area as Afghanistan (Lister and Karaev, 2004). The lack of quality control breeds fear among the local population; they are afraid to live in newly constructed houses (Lister and Karaev, 2004). The lack of quality control is also an important issue for the Dutch armed forces as they are held accountable for the casualties when an object created by them collapses, which could have a negative impact on the security of the military personnel in Uruzgan.

Control

Situational awareness

The culture in Afghanistan is scarred by war: feelings of distrust, survival of the most powerful, greed and corruption are common among the population. Every Afghan tries to earn money in some way or the other. For example when military officials enter villages and ask whether there is someone who is capable of constructing a well, almost all villagers will raise their hand, even though none of them have any idea what constructing a well entails. Because of this attitude and the way Afghans try to increase their profit, on-site evaluation of the project is very important even if you know the contractors well (Azarbaijani-Moghaddam et al., 2008; Kremers et al., 2010). Although on-site evaluation is critical it is not easy in such a volatile environment. Several control mechanisms were used in Uruzgan: the PRT’s mission team visited the construction site, the battlegroup was asked to take pictures while on patrol or local Afghans were asked to visit the construction sites with a camera and take pictures. Nevertheless, there have been indications that some of the pictures taken by the Afghanis were fraudulent and did not show the relevant objects. For example: a picture of a school was sent to several different actors as being the school that the organizations had funded. Furthermore, local Afghans who cooperate with or even talk to the international forces risk the chance of retributions (Chin-A-Fo, 2010; Rietjens et al., 2009; Wijnmaalen, 2010).

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Another major pitfall is the fact that many of the former disarmed warlords pose themselves as contractors and receive a large percentage of international aid money which in turn reconstructs their power base (Barakat, 2002; Rietjens et al., 2009).

Internal process of the PRT

As the mission in Uruzgan and its constituting projects are funded with public money the aspect of transparency and accountability is very important (Kremers et al., 2010). When the mission team had an idea for a project they had to write a project proposal. However, these project proposals caused a lot of frustration, as the amount of work for a small project of 1,500 dollars was the same as for a project of 50,000 dollars (Kremers et al., 2010; Wijnmaalen, 2010). Also, the amount of time that it took before a project was approved and could start was considerable. Additionally, the high prices which were demanded by the contractors increased the amount of time which was needed to start a project, as it negatively influenced the project proposals cycle (Wijnmaalen, 2010; IJpelaar and Van Sommeren, 2010). The tendering process was largely fixed and based on regulations drawn up for use within Western Europe. Large emphasis was placed on public competitive tendering, although under circumstances such as in Uruzgan real open competition was highly unlikely to take place. Procedures like this gave the PRTs limited means to adjust the process to the specific situation in the area of the project at hand (Kremers et al., 2010).

Information asymmetry

The concept of asymmetric information is a complicating factor in the relationship between the contractor and the principal, as one of the two has more or better information than the other ( Jensen and Meckling, 1979). For the case of Uruzgan the issue of information asymmetry can be divided into technical knowledge asymmetry and cultural awareness asymmetry. Technical knowledge asymmetry concerns the specific knowledge as how to build in a country like Afghanistan. What is the influence of the intense heat and dust on the materials? Where can one find good materials? In Uruzgan there was a lack of Dutch military officials with technical knowledge (Kremers et al., 2010): not all military personnel who dealt with physical construction tasks had an educational background in civil engineering or construction. However, in some cases these military officials were responsible for clearly defining requirements and demands for a construction object, which is very difficult even if you have a suitable educational background. The cultural awareness asymmetry indicates the difference in knowledge regarding society, norms and values of a country. Who can be trusted? When are you being fooled? The Dutch armed forces are in a less favourable position as they are new in the area. Especially in Afghanistan this arrear is unfavourable as the tribal structure of society is very complicated (McNerney, 2006; TLO, 2010; Wijnmaalen, 2010). Information asymmetry leads to opportunistic behaviour of the actor with

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the most or better knowledge; consequently the other actor could experience negative consequences.

Feed-forward loop

Perception differences of stakeholders

Several stakeholders are involved in construction projects in Uruzgan. However, these stakeholders differ from each other regarding cultural and educational background, which could lead to different perceptions concerning the success of the process or the quality of the output. In the western world the basic success criteria are time, money, information, organization and quality (Kremers et al., 2010). However, the perception of a western military official regarding time, for example, is very different from the perception of a local Afghani contractor. The first will perceive three days for the construction of a small foundation as a long time, while the latter would it perceive it as normal. Furthermore, usually a construction project has a client (or end-user). Whether client expectations are an additional target or part of the project specifications, key is that both expectations between the client and the project team need to be aligned and integrated throughout the project (Meredith and Mantel, 2006). In cases where the clients’ or principals’ role is spread out over several actors, managing these diverging expectations is more difficult. These differences in perceptions could lead to disagreements over the results.

Solutions used in the field A broad array of solutions to the preceding problems was used in Uruzgan, however a structured process by which these methods were incorporated in procedures and day-to-day PRT activities was lacking. In the following paragraphs for each element of the model the solutions which were applied in the field will be discussed.

Input

Workforce related problems

The PRT used additional selection tools to choose a contractor in order to counter the challenge of low quality contractors. For example, construction contractors were interviewed with the help of technical personnel to assess their technical knowledge beforehand. Another proven method was to work with contractors who were known for delivering reasonably good quality; past project results and references were key in this process. The Australian armed forces established a trade school which enlarged

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the pool of skilled workers in Uruzgan. Also direct support of the military engineering capacity helped when certain knowledge was simply unavailable.

Problems related to material and equipment

The general lower quality of materials could be offset by taking this fact into account when designing an object. If low quality was suspected, materials were sent back to the Netherlands and tested in the laboratory of the Faculty of Military Sciences. If the quality of certain material is really essential and the project had certain operational value, the military supply chain could be activated to bring materials from outside the country. The tendency to use manpower instead of machinery was not regarded as a challenge, since it created more jobs for the Afghani.

Availability of information

A lot could have been gained by setting up a system for information storing and sharing, as it sometimes appeared that information was available, but acquiring it required creativity. Examples: disbanded official development aid (ODA) programmes had gathered and stored information that could be retrieved and was useful for planning infrastructure or the local government unexpectedly turned out to have information on project aspects. Information like this was available piecemeal and was often outdated. Also Afghani were used as sources of information, for instance for information regarding seasonal patterns or high water levels. Gaining information regarding land ownership was especially difficult, as this information was usually transferred orally and therefore there is no formal administration.

Specific characteristics of the construction sector

To increase pressure on contractors to deliver good quality objects, the end-user was involved in the construction process. The end-user has knowledge of the local situation and will continue to live in the same area as the contractor long after the military organization has left the country. Additionally the end-user benefits from an object of good quality. To counter powerbroker meddling powerbrokers were either confronted by military officials or a contractor from another area was attracted to create real competition.

Process

Workforce related problems

Communication problems were omitted by finding at least one technically trained interpreter, so that technical jargon can be translated well. However, finding such interpreters was very difficult.

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Lack of rules and regulations

Usually there was uncertainty within the project management team whether local, Dutch or EU regulations had to be obeyed during the construction process. Adhering to local standards was more pragmatic, but some military officials were afraid of legal repercussions if a non-Dutch regulation compliant construction would fail. If Dutch regulations had to be applied, they had to be explained to and enforced on the local contractor, and intensified assistance and supervision had to be exercised. However, it is important to realise that most constructions are built for local use and purpose. Therefore local building standards and customary law may be more important for the total effect of the constructed object (Effect = Quality of the solution x acceptance of the solution) than Dutch norms and regulations. This does not mean that quality is not important, since failure of a construction may cause severe damage to the force’s reputation.

Control

Situational awareness

In order to attain situational awareness, information regarding the area where the project had to take place was collected. In case of suspected corruption, the background of the contractor was checked; however, this was not always possible due to lack of information or well-hidden powerbroker influence. Or the local government was approached for cooperation, which decreased the chance that contractors took advantage of the PRT and led to more realistic expectations on both sides.

Internal process

The project proposal cycle was experienced as lengthy, bureaucratic and ill-suited to the operational environment. During the operation the threshold for ‘pocket-money’ of the PRT was raised, creating more flexibility. However, when there was urgent operational need the whole process could be cut short, but it still took up a lot of time. The suggestion of unit-rate contracts with indefinite deliveries was brought up but never materialized; such a contract would have made the rapid construction of large amounts of similar constructions (such as small bridges or wells) possible.

Information asymmetry

The problem with information asymmetry is that one first needs to become aware that one is missing information. An example which illustrates this is the following quote by a PRT member: Most projects ran reasonably well. Sometimes the contractor had to be forced to repair or complete his construction before he could receive his payment. One time, a mosque for the Afghan National Army was completed by a local contractor and checked by the engineers from the Infra Support Detachment, instead

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of by the PRT alone. This resulted in much more faults and omissions discovered than had been the case if the PRT had executed the inspection. This way, the quality of other projects might have been improved too.

The PRT had multiple sources for information, such as the technical knowledge of the military engineers or the mechanical corps; however, these sources were only used on and off: depending on personal relationships and the workload of those units. The cultural knowledge of specialist officials from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs or the Dutch-Afghan interpreters could also be used in preparing and executing a construction project.

Feed-forward loop

Perception differences of stakeholders

The emphasis was on accepting cultural differences and relating to the Afghan reality. A sentence often used to explain the importance of keeping pace with the local processes and taking time for building acceptance was: ‘slow is fast’ (not meaning everything could take forever, of course).

Theoretical insights

Insights from the field of project management

In traditional project management, project performance is measured in terms of performance characteristics such as costs, time, quality, information and organization. However, these performance indicators have to be customized to the complex environment of reconstruction projects in fragile states. Risk management could play an important role in both measuring the performance indicators on project level and the processes. Hodiamont (2010) observes that ‘compared to other project management aspects, risk management gets insufficient and inadequate attention on project level’. He also concludes that high-risk environments justify the employment of a formal risk-management methodology such as the Active Threat and Opportunity Management (ATOM) method. This ATOM method is a relative new risk management methodology which is based on widely accepted risk management standards. Compared to other risk management methodologies it is less theoretical and more focused on the application of risk management in real-life projects. One of the advantages of this method is that it can be applied and scaled to different reconstruction projects with varying types and sizes. An example where the ATOM method could be useful in the example of Uruzgan, would be decreasing the influence of powerbrokers on the contracting process.

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Another advantage is the fact that an analysis of the stakeholders is part of the methodology. Stakeholders and associated risk can be identified in the context of the project management elements of Figure 13.1. Therefore, implementing a robust and scalable risk-management system such as ATOM for reconstruction projects seems to be an opportunity for improvement. As the application of the ATOM methodology in practice could help military project managers and project experts to become more aware of the (non-military) risks in the construction projects and to deal with these identified risks more effectively, which could lead to more satisfying project results (Hodiamont, 2010). One of the indicated challenges in Uruzgan was opportunistic behaviour of the different actors involved in construction projects, where cooperation was needed for project success. This cooperation is partly shaped by the (contractual) agreements made between the parties. The theory of transaction-cost economics offers ways to reduce opportunistic behaviour and improve cooperation. Additional to the threat of legal repercussions, which was hardly convincing in Uruzgan, TCE introduces safeguards against opportunism (Williamson, 1985): 1) introducing incentives such as bonuses or penalties; 2) employing an arbitration board and 3) introducing the possibility of trading regularities that signal continuity intentions. Within the regular construction industry, safeguard number three often takes shape of cross-project relationships, introducing an intrinsic motivation for the contractor to take a cooperative stance for the sake of (possible) business continuity (Doree, 1996). In the case of Uruzgan, safeguard number two may be difficult to realize, but safeguards one and three are likely to offer serious potential for improving contractor cooperation.

Insights from the field of developmental aid

The current situation in Uruzgan supports the statement that just providing aid does not increase the level of development in a state (Campbell, 2008; Sky, 2007; Mohan Das, 2010). The process of development is as important. The research area of developmental aid has indicated factors which empower the link between receiving aid (e.g., construction objects) and general development (e.g., reconstruction): sustainability, capacity building, local ownership and the grass-root approach. When an aid organization enters a country it’s goal is to provide aid which will increase the ability of the local population to fend for themselves. Organizations want to prevent aid-dependency, and create sustainable development. This is development that continues after an aid organization has left the country. One could state that conceptual reconstruction is the same as sustainable development. Sustainable development can be achieved through capacity building and local ownership: ‘Do not give people fish so that they have a meal today, teach them to fish so that they have a meal tomorrow’ is one of the most often used examples to explain the principle of capacity building. Thus capacity building means that people learn trades which increase their independency and self-help. The concept of capacity building also extends to more abstract professions such as lawyers or civil servants.

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When there are no civil servants how will there ever be a well-functioning democracy? Or when a hydroplant in Uruzgan breaks down after the military forces have left, who will be able to repair the system when no one has taught the Afghani how to repair it or what spare parts are needed? As mentioned above, capacity building is needed to create sustainable development; however, sustainable development will only be achieved when there is also local ownership. Why would an Afghan bother to maintain a girls’ school, when he/she does not see the use of a girls’ school? Local ownership can only be created when local population values the constructed object and participates in the process. A clear example of this effect of local ownership is the example given from the field when the Dutch armed forces involved the end-user in the construction process and the supervision of the work. The end-user will feel responsible for the object and the chance increases that this person or community will maintain the object. However, how do you know which objects are most valued by the population? This can be difficult, especially when there is a large difference between the aid provider and the aid receiving party. It is therefore necessary to involve the local population in the decision-making procedures concerning what will be built and what will not (Mohan Das, 2010). In this respect, grass root initiatives can be of great value and should be supported. Grass root initiatives are initiatives which stem from the population themselves; they have their roots in society.

Conclusion In this chapter the problems related to physical construction projects in Uruzgan were discussed. The general goal of the TFU was to ‘promote stability in Afghanistan and support the authorities’ reconstruction efforts’ (Dutch Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 2006). This multidimensional and ambitious goal was to be partially obtained through reconstruction activities by the PRT (Mollema and Matthijssen, 2009). The reconstruction activities can be divided into physical reconstruction (objects) and conceptual reconstruction (processes). The PRT encountered several challenges while conducting reconstruction activities: workforce related problems, problems related to material and equipment availability of information, specific characteristics of the construction sector, lack of rules and regulations, situational awareness, internal process, information asymmetry and perception differences of stakeholders. In this chapter a project management model was used to categorize these challenges in IN, Process, OUT, Control, Feedforward and Feedback loops. During the mission in Uruzgan an array of solutions to the preceding problems was used and discussed. The main conclusion is that a structured process by which these solutions were incorporated in procedures and day-to-day PRT activities were lacking. In addition, insights from theory have been discussed in this chapter. From project management literature we learned that construction projects are often evaluated using the pre-set characteristics: costs, time, quality, information and organi-

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zation. Yet in out-of-area construction activities physical construction objects often do not meet these pre-set success indicators. Therefore, we proposed that when the mission goal is reconstruction in the broad sense of the word (process and object) these characteristics do not suffice and should be extended with mission-related factors from, for instance, risk management, stakeholder analysis or transactioncost economics. According to us the process element of reconstruction activities has not yet received the attention it deserves. Within this part of the reconstruction activities most progress can be made regarding the overarching goal: reconstruction of a state. In future missions the construction process as such and the participation of the local population needs to be central to the decision making as to what needs to be built, how we are going to build it and how we perceive and measure success: the outputs of construction projects should be operationalized in both processes and objects. Attention for processes increases the space for capacity building, local participation and grass roots initiatives, which all lead to sustainable development, and to a stable and secure state.

References Azarbaijani-Moghaddam, S., Wardak, M., Zaman, I. and Taylor, A. (2008) Afghan hearts, Afghan minds. Exploring Afghan perceptions of civil-military relations. Research conducted for the European Network of NGOs in Afghanistan (ENNA) and the British and Irish Agencies Afghanistan Group (BAAG). Available at: www.baag.org.uk. Barakat, S. (2002) Setting the scene for Afghanistan’s Reconstruction: The challenges and critical dilemmas. Third World Quarterly 23(5), 801-816. Campbell, S.P. (2008) When process matters: The potential implications of organizational learning for peacebuilding success. Journal of Peacebuilding and Developmen 4(2), 20-32. Chin-A-Fo, H. (2010). Je geeft ze water, maar ze blijven schieten (You give them water, but they keep shooting). NRC Handelsblad ( July 15). Dorée, A. (1996) Gemeentelijk aanbesteden (Community Procurement). Enschede: Twente University. Drent, M. and Zandee, D. (2010) Comprehensive Approach van de Europese Unie: kloof tussen theorie en praktijk (Comprehensive Approach of the European Union: gap between theory and practice). Internationale Spectator 64(4), 196-199. Dutch Ministry of Foreign Affairs (2006) The Netherlands in Afghanistan. The Hague: Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Greet, N. (2010) The growing need for engineers to lead, conduct and assist in reconstruction and development. Powerpoint presentation for the Military Engineering Conference at the Asia Pacific Civil-Military Centre of Excellence, 28 January 2010. Hodiamont, C.P.M. (2010) A project management analysis of military involvement in civil engineering reconstruction projects during counterinsurgency operations. Masterthesis. Delft: University of Technology Delft.

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IJpelaar, A. and Van Sommeren, S. (2010) Collaboration: Beyond a doctrine. Masterthesis. Tilburg: University of Tilburg. — (2008) Seminar Publication on Comprehensive Approach. Comprehensive Approach Seminar 17 June 2008 in Helsinki. Jensen, M.C. and Meckling, W.H. (1976) Theory of the firm: managerial behavior, agency costs and ownership structure. Journal of Financial Economics 4(3), 305-360. Kamphuis, B. (2010) Drie botsende D’s. De tegenstrijdigheden in de ‘geintegreerde’ benadering in Afghanistan (The three conflicting D’s. The contradictions in the ‘integrated’ approach in Afghanistan). Militaire Spectator 179(9), 420-430. Kremers, J., Rietjens, B., Voordijk, H. and de Boer, S. (2010) Construction contracting and civil-military interaction. Construction Management and Economics 28(4), 871-883. Kremers, J. (2009) De lokale aannemer als verlengstuk van 101 Geniebataljon (The local contractor as an extension of 101 Enigneering battalion). Genie 4, 11-12. Lister, S. and Karaev, Z. (2004) Understanding markets in Afghanistan: A case study of the market in construction materials. Case Study Series, Afghanistan Research and Evaluation Unit. Available at: http://www.areu.org.af/Uploads/EditionPdfs/420E-Construction%20 Materials-CS-web.pdf McNerney, M.J. (2006) Stabilization and Reconstruction in Afghanistan: Are PRTs a Model or a Muddle? Parameters 36(4), 32-47. Meredith, J.R., and Mantel, S.J. (2006) Project management: A managerial approach. 6th edition. John Wiley & Sons. Mohan Das, S. (2010) Process issues: An argument for inclusion of grass-roots communities in the formation of national and international initiatives in re-building Afghanistan. Available at: www.jha.ac/articles/a076, 1-9. Mollema, P. and Matthijssen, C.J. (2009) Uruzgan: op de goede weg (Uruzgan on the right track). Militaire Spectator 178(8), 399-413. Patrick, S. and Brown, K. (2007) Greater than the sum of its parts? Assessing the “whole of government” approaches to fragile states. New York: International Peace Academy. Perito, R.M. (2009) U.S. experience with Provincial Reconstruction Teams in Afghanistan: Lessons identified. DIANE Publishing (United States of America). Pidd, M. (1996) Tools for thinking, modeling in management science. Chichester: Wiley & Sons. Rietjens, B., Bollen, M., Khalil, M. and Wahidi, S.F (2009) Enhancing the footprint: Stakeholders in Afghan reconstruction. Parameters 39(1), 1-19. Sky, E. (2007) Increasing ISAF’s impact on stability in Afghanistan. Defense and Security Analysis 23(1), 7-25. TLO (2010) The Dutch Engagement in Uruzgan: 2006-2010, A TLO socio-political assessment. Kabul: The Liaison Office. UNDP (2009) Human Development Report; HDI ranking. Available at: http://hdr.undp.org/ en/reports/ global/hdr2010. Van der Voet, G.S. (2008) Het provinciaal reconstructie team in de praktijk (The provincial reconstrcution team in practice). Carré 30(1), 14-17. Van Lamoen, H.M.J and Most van Spijk, R. (2007) “Operationele verwerving” (Operational procurement). Militaire Spectator 176 (11), 479-484.

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Wijnmaalen, J.R. (2010) Reconstruction through Construction? An exploratory study of the challenges encountered while building in unstable environments. Paper presented at the International Society of Military Studies conference, 10-11 November in Stockholm. Williamson, O.E. (1985) The economic Institutions of capitalism. New York: The Free Press.

14

Talking to strangers, learning to listen René Moelker and Michelle Schut

Introduction: the military name game Benjamin Lee Whorf claimed language ‘may be shaped by the world, but in turn shapes the world’. In his study of Hopi language, Whorf found that linguistic structures determine not only interpretations of the world but that they actually shape the physical, social, economic, political and symbolical world people live in. Because Hopi language does not have words comprising the concept of time, neither words for the future, nor for the past, it would be impossible for a Hopi Indian to understand the western way of long-term planning. Neither would the Hopi be able to refer to the past. Activities are seen as preparations but they are not associated with a date on which a product or service should be ready and/or delivered. Probably the Hopi do not have a word for ‘deadline’. A Hopi Indian would not have the conceptual tools, i.e. he lacks the words to shape his life in western society, to make sense of it all, but the same goes for the Westerner who would find it difficult, if not impossible, to adapt to Hopi society. If one does not understand a language and a culture and is not willing to learn, nor willing to listen, one will remain a stranger. An outsider. The renowned SapirWhorf hypothesis that stemmed from the study among the Hopi is summarized adequately by David Thomson (2008, 115): ‘we dissect nature along lines laid down by our native language’. Exactly this is brought to the military field by Sarah Boxer (2009) in an excellent paper on ‘Manipulating Meaning: The Military Name Game’, which stipulates phenomena common to military all around the world: by name giving, one can transform a military operation from one realm into a different one, for example from the kinetic order of things (shooting, killing) to a political order and/or the symbolic order of ideology. The name ‘Desert Storm’ signifies the kinetic nature of the operation. ‘Operation Enduring Freedom’ would provide the wording that transforms a military operation into a political and symbolic order that promises both stable democracy and free enterprise. In short, to quote Andrea Van Dijk and Joseph Soeters (2008: 303), ‘language matters in the military’. For the Dutch in Afghanistan the desired political reality, necessary to convince the constituency during times of elections, was to reconstruct Afghanistan. The

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military operation in Afghanistan was legitimized by the rhetoric of helping the Afghans reconstruct their society, to assist the central government and to contribute to the stabilization of the nation (Brinkel et al., 2009). Intervention ideally should not provoke the local population for the Dutch did not come to occupy, did not come to conquer. The intervention should be de-escalating in character. The Dutch were to contribute to governance and safety, and therefore social patrols were asked for, provincial reconstruction teams should be doing their work outside of the safety of the compounds, contacts with the local population were desirable and these contacts should be friendly, culturally aware and culturally sensitive. As was to be expected from the Sapir and Whorf hypothesis and the Military Name Game, the training method for the soldiers was given a name that fitted the political objective: ‘smile and wave’. The desired political reality, reconstruction and stabilization, required renaming the military way of training into something friendly sounding, like smile and wave, to substitute other epithets like ‘shock and awe’ that were characteristic for the earlier American entry phase and was symbolic name giving for hunting down terrorists and scaring the hell out of anyone who even merely thought of being slightly critical of this enterprise. Training for the mission that was baptized International Security Assistance Force cannot go well if the mission was given another albeit terrifying name. General names for present day kind of missions vary from ‘reconstruction mission’ to ‘counterinsurgency mission’, from ‘3D operations’ (Defence, Diplomacy, Development) to ‘stabilization operations’. All of these soundbite terms may hold some truth in them, because words create their own reality. Smile and wave is the minimalist version of ‘talking to strangers, learning to listen’, an approach to training that was clearly intended to inculcate a non-violent attitude and friendly posture towards the local population, who were not the enemy, but the victims of a, so perceived, brutish Taliban regime. Talking to strangers and learning to listen is a strategy that goes further and that fits into the objective of winning hearts and minds. It is perceived the model for soldier behaviour in the Uruzgan province of Afghanistan where soldiers eventually patrolled not on foot but on mountain bikes. Cultural awareness, as we already asserted, started by trying to teach soldiers to smile and wave. And the learning process was not easy because at the moment that the mission oriented training began acceptance was low. The documentary ‘Smile and Wave’ by Marieke Jongbloed (2003) intimately portrays an infantry platoon during training and on mission in Afghanistan. The third scene of the documentary frames a classroom situation where the soldiers receive not only their rules of engagement but are also taught rules for behaviour. They are told that the brigade commander and higher up officially commands them to ‘smile and wave’. Clearly audible is the first gut reaction from one of the guys who swears ‘goddamned.’ The instructor explains that when they behave ‘too tightly and too sharp, the population will think that we are an occupational power.’ There is some laughter and mild dis-

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cussion because the soldiers fear they might not be taken seriously, but this initial resistance is broken by the persuading rationality of the instructor’s arguments. The next scene is shot outdoors at the training facility ‘Het Harde’ in the Netherlands. Learning by experience is the step by which theoretical knowledge, the concept of ‘smile and wave’, is to materialize into practice. Military exercises are powerful training tools. And during these exercises role players, often participants from earlier deployments handing over their experiences in a reenactment of these experiences, dress up as local Afghans to play according to some scenario. The soldiers on patrol meet rioting Afghan civilians that are stoning a woman for some behaviour unbecoming (perhaps presumed adultery or ‘flirting’ in public?). The soldiers break up the crowd with an excess of violence telling the mob to ‘go away’. They use their firearms to push the locals away. The locals are protesting by making a lot of noise whilst the soldiers are pulling them away, dragging them over the street, whilst pointing the gun at the unarmed civilians. In the after-action debriefing, the role players step out of their character and comment to the soldiers ‘well … I think this was quite a display of aggressiveness, one of the soldiers kicking me in the stomach! I think in the evaluation you will be told that this is not like it is intended to happen. If you act like this you will have a problem over there, because all of them will turn against you.’ From his perspective, if this had been real it could have escalated easily. The platoon commander adds meaning to the context as he explains that the soldiers actually meddled into the private affairs of an Afghan family, and the soldiers dealt with the family matters quite violently. These soldiers were not really ‘talking to strangers’, they were beating them up! But they were in a training situation where they are supposed to ‘learn to listen’. And in this situation the sense of reality, as Anne Irwin (2005) points out, is a social construction. To be more precise, the soldiers were in the process of acquiring cultural sensitivity and cultural awareness. The objective of the training in 2002 did not go beyond ‘smile and wave’, whereas nowadays in the preparation for Uruzgan the discussion on the objective of such exercises ranges from cultural awareness, cultural literacy, cultural competence to cultural intelligence (Abbe, 2007; Selmeski, 2007; Winslow, 2010). Using concepts like ‘smile and wave’ and ‘cultural awareness’ are important because language shapes the world in which the soldiers are active agents, doing their job in operations with alternate name giving. The aim of this chapter is to explore the manner in which Dutch soldiers acquire cultural awareness during preparation and how they put it to use during the execution of mission Uruzgan. The assumption is that the motivational factor is very much helpful to acquiring this awareness, whilst fear and anxiety is hampering learning processes. By analyzing the content of four documentaries, i.e. ‘Smile and Wave’, ‘0911 Zulu’, ‘Fokking Hell’ and ‘Dagboek van onze Helden’, paradigmatic examples of failures in listening behaviour, but also examples of learning behavior, successes in acquiring cultural awareness and threats to becoming a cultural change agent are presented. The chapter ends by discussing the state of the art in training in the Netherlands and the possibilities for future improvement.

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Cultural awareness Some of the footage provides hilarious material and a good illustration of the importance of language. When on a traditional mission where interaction with the population is limited to kinetic contact, understanding the other is probably only relevant to information gatherers or psyops officers. But when a soldier is given the assignment to let nobody pass at a checkpoint because a military convoy must for safety reasons pass first, as was the case in the documentary Fokking Hell (Feijten, Stakelbeek and Ter Velde, 2010), it becomes ridiculous and embarrassing to watch the soldier trying to stop some and allowing others to pass. The shots alternate between the checkpoint and the studio where soldiers express feelings that go along with their cultural experiences: [checkpoint] The Dutch soldier at the checkpoint stops a car that, according to the Afghan driver, is transporting someone who got ill. The driver asks to let him pass because ‘she is not doing well.’ The soldier does not give in, because it ‘won’t take long before the military vehicles have passed, we are almost done.’ [studio] To the interviewer a captain states ‘in retrospect it is always different than you had thought it to be, you cannot simulate reality in the Netherlands, … the way how to deal with the population, in reality it is different.’ [checkpoint] To the driver the soldier apologizes: ‘I am sorry for the problems, but I have to.’ The soldier at the checkpoint maneuvers all cars to the side of the road, clearing the road. [studio] Vice-admiral Borsboom confides in the documentary maker ‘no matter how well prepared you are, when you are over there, the complexity is much greater.’ A colonel remarks on the complexity of a strange culture ‘you are dealing with a Muslim country.’ A soldier expresses his own feelings of uncertainty by stating ‘the population is very unreliable, you never know what someone is hiding, however innocent their stories are. You never know if they are gonna hurt you, you never know’. [checkpoint] Then a car, a small transporter, arrives at the checkpoint with civilian dressed locals, all armed to the teeth. They introduce themselves as police officers. Judging from their looks, they could easily be a band of bandits. They are heavily bearded, wear turbans, and lack identification papers, police insignia and uniforms. Even so, because they insist on being policemen, the soldier at the checkpoint lets this car, and only this car, pass. He is very clearly in doubt because there is no way to establish whether the bearded guys are lying. Probably they are because they know that pretending to be policemen will guarantee their passage at the checkpoint. ‘Sir … are you police?’ the soldier asks an Afghan senior citizen, who clearly is too old to be on active duty, and lets him pass. He knows he’s being fooled, but what is he to do? The soldiers lack the knowledge of language and do not know the cultural codes by which he could ascertain truth or lie.

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Understanding starts with language, but reading the cultural code, in other words acquiring cultural literacy, is equally important for the military on mission. Understanding the words is one side of the coin, understanding how institutions (organized norms and values) work is the other side. In Smile and Wave ( Jongbloed, 2003) high ranking Dutch soldiers, amongst whom is a military legal advisor, visit a women’s prison and find out that one can be easily manoeuvred into a position where Western and Afghan values clash and where the urge to intervene becomes pressing and awkward. The woman’s prison does not look like a high-risk penitentiary installation, and has some feel of coziness because it is a community in itself, but to the foreign soldiers it all is dirty. The NCO jokes to the police general ‘we don’t need to see the restrooms.’ In one room, more than eight women are present and the same NCO is surprised at the children that also reside there. ‘What can a women have done, that she is here?’ he asks the young mother. She married, divorced and then remarried. Now, the first husband claims she never divorced him. She has to stay in prison for eight years. The NCO (who cannot hide his non verbally expressed surprise) ‘so the child will grow up in prison?’ All of the women seem to have had marital problems. One was mistreated and after filing a complaint she consequently was sent to prison herself. The police general explains that a woman can only remarry when her husband has repudiated her. The NCO says that they want to show the footage to the Dutch viewers who are not familiar with these problems. He wants to persuade the women to present bold statements but instead the women are infuriated: ‘you can videotape this, but we need help now, tell them to let us out … we want our right, help us get out of here.’ Lt Colonel Roel Krimp asks the translator to say that ‘they are here because of the legal system in Afghanistan, … ISAF cannot easily interfere, but we can show the footage to the world to obtain political leverage.’ The Lieutenant Colonel saves the situation brought about by the overly empathic but not too diplomatic NCO. Not being familiar with gendered institutions, women’s place in Afghan society, and with the penal code that consolidates the gendered institutions, the Dutch military brought upon them a political discussion they got entrapped in. Maaike, a lieutenant in the Navy starring in Dagboek van onze Helden (2010, third broadcast of the series), makes part of a Provincial Reconstruction Team in Uruzgan, Camp Hadrian, as liason officer, and to get building projects started she regularly has meetings with local contractors. She is very much culturally aware, and especially so regarding gender issues. Maaike is always careful about the way she dresses. Whereas male colleagues might wear a T-shirt when it is warm, she will never display uncovered arms. She discusses projects, and also grants projects to contractors; therefore she has the power to reward people and is treated with the respect due to any military professional, male or female. Maaike first wondered ‘how are they going to react to a female officer? I will have to be modest, not draw attention, because this is not normal procedure in this culture. … I always wear long sleeves  …The Afghans think the Dutch female soldiers can stand up for them-

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selves. We sometimes are complimented with the fact that Dutch females are educated.’ The principle of reciprocity is at work during these meetings. The contractors of course want a project, and in turn they sometimes give safety information about, for example, Improvised Explosive Devices. Being unfamiliar in ‘strange’ cultures can be a barrier in interacting with locals, not knowing the language, not knowing the institutional arrangements, but nevertheless one can be aware of the cultural context or at least try to be and gain respect by showing respect.

Learning to listen: motivation and cultural inquisitiveness From the content analysis of all the footage it appears that two factors are important in learning to listen. Both are related to attitude. Motivation determines whether or not people want to listen and have an open mind. Cultural inquisitiveness also seems related to the learning attitude, but can backfire when soldiers are overdoing it, when they are prying into other peoples’ lives. In Dagboek van onze Helden (2010), political advisor Tom walks towards the Slovakian guard who is responsible for security of the inner circle of the compound. He wants to inform them that the guard should let someone pass without searching. According to the cultural advisor the Afghans are uncomfortable with body searches and find them humiliating. The cultural adviser has instructed him about these Afghan sensitivities. Only the visitor highest in rank is exempted from the normal routine. It seems a minor issue, but trust is won by giving trust and showing respect. And there is no security risk, because the soldiers can count on the Afghan honour system. Tom is professionally motivated to listen to and use the council of the cultural advisor, because it will further cooperation with the Afghans. Motivation, wanting to listen, is important for learning behaviour. Lieutenant Maaike, who starred in Dagboek van onze Helden also seems inquisitive in a positive way. She shows genuine interest in people. But one can also demonstrate exalted behaviour, and then over-the-top curiosity and inquisitiveness can become unhealthy. From the outside the behaviour looks like cultural curiosity and empathy, while it is in fact an unbecoming interest in some cultural arrangements that is displayed. Etiquette and politesse dictate that one does not poke around in the paradoxes of these arrangements because they obviously are honour- and shamerelated. The hard questions lie with status issues or are in the domain of private lives. Shaming images are derived from Smile and Wave in a conversation between corporal Maikel Tanger and ISAF interpreter Jumshed. Jongbloed (2003) frames the issue by a subtle build-up. She knows well that one can only learn about the other culture if one better understands one’s own culture. The spectator back in the Netherlands is presented contrasting and stereotypical images of posters in the soldiers’

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quarters and pictures of Indian women at booksellers’ shops in Kabul. The pictures are all projections of male imagination. Western soldiers seem not so different from Afghan men. Cultures are different, but men generally have comparable appetites for the other sex. Alternating shots. Footage of women in burkas walking the streets. The camera zooming in at feet wearing fashionable shoes. The camera is simulating the masculine objectifying gaze as the camera ‘looks’ just like ‘our’ western male soldiers look at the feet of these women. The soldiers wonder what is underneath the blue garments and in a group discussion imagination runs wild. Soon the brilliant documentary maker Marijke Jongbloed has the boys talking about ‘jerking off ’ in the little privacy that a restroom has to offer. The soldiers are candid, but we can distinguish between those who are bragging and perhaps want to impress the female interviewer, and those who, although equally deprived sexually, feel embarrassed about the uncalled for frankness of the confessions. The documentary maker in fact repeats the message ‘boys will be boys’, be they Dutch or Afghans. Back in the private quarters, Maikel Tanger asks the interpreter Jumshed if he already had sex with his fiancée. Jumshed: ‘of course not, because it is bad for her reputation.’ Maikel presses on: ‘you did not have sex with someone yet?’ Jumshed: ‘I cannot say no! I am not a virgin …’ Maikel now identifies the paradox in Afghan society, because you cannot lose your virginity if women won’t have sex before marriage. The answer is shockingly simple: ‘if you succeed in finding a girl that is a little bit lazy or not too smart, then the boys go there and trick them, like telling that it is healthy for her.’ Maikel concludes that Jumshed needs to become more world wise and gives him three porn movies free of charge: ‘as a present we give them to you and we hope that you will learn something of it.’ Jumshed claims he already knows, but Maikel insists. Jumshed confides that oral sex is out of the question in Afghanistan, but would like to watch the movies together with his friends. He rejects Maikel’s suggestion to privately masturbate using these movies as ‘jerking off is also forbidden in Afghanistan, but it happens a lot … Allah knows.’ Maikel is astonished, but one of the other soldiers, Eggink, who originates from the Dutch Bible belt, stands by silently. Eggink probably understands Jumshed better. At the end of the documentary we are witnesses to his marriage. A marriage out of responsibility. Coming from a Dutch religious family he cannot but marry the girl that he got pregnant nine months earlier. Many of his relatives wear traditional clothing, not much different from burkas or other Afghan attire.

Constraints on cultural communication Learning about ‘strange’ cultures is hampered by barriers like mindset, frustration and fear. Learning is facilitated under safe and secure conditions. When under threat or otherwise engaged in tense situations, the default human reaction is to fight or to fly. New learning experiences are blocked because people will fall back

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on routines, drills and behaviour that will help them overcome stress and enlarge chances for survival. 09:11 Zulu provides some striking examples of decreasing communicative effectiveness during the operational mode. At five minutes from Camp Holland an IED facilitator, a person making bombs, lives in a farmhouse (Franke, 2007). The Dutch Special Forces have authorization to carry out a ‘hard knock operation’. It is going to be dangerous and the men are looking forward to being engaged in action. Armed to the teeth, the special forces pass the farm’s gate, and enter the mud house. They kick in one of the rooms that give entrance to the private quarters of the residents and search the house seemingly calmly and professionally until they arrive at the courtyard where they only encounter women of various ages and children. The soldiers are vigilant and sharp, not edgy, but they clearly have trouble to de-escalate when confronted with women who are unaware and surprised by this armed raid. The women try to cooperate but do not understand that the soldiers only want them to move in order to separate them from the men. One young woman flaps her arms like a bird because she thinks that the soldier wants her to do so. She misinterprets the sign language of the soldier who only gestured here to ‘come over this way.’ The soldier loses his patience and pulls her garment in order to direct her towards the desired location. It is not fear that makes the soldier communicate badly with the women, but they are in an operational mode and mindset, constantly aware of danger, acting the soldier part and unable to see the women as they are, ambushed, surprised and frightened, violated in their honour and homely privacy. In Dagboek van onze helden the Dutch unit in Uruzgan was affected emotionally as a whole because of the death of two colleagues who were victims of an Improvised Explosive Device. The viewer witnesses the collective trauma from the beginning, as these series of documentaries was shot by embedded reporters. The soldiers were filmed up close giving a day-to-day account and therefore the viewer emotionally identifies with the soldiers. We see the dead and wounded being brought to the infirmary, we are present at the memorial meeting being organized in Uruzgan and we experience the unit’s grief. Two weeks later the events do appear to affect the tactical level of operations. One of the marines, Remon, is ordered to arrest a local who is suspected to be one of the bomb layers. Remon is one of the Marines, 22 years of age and Uruzgan is his first mission. The Marines have rounded up several men in the village amongst whom was the insurgency leader of the area. In addition the Afghan National Army arrested the person who placed the bomb. The Marines are highly motivated. Remon remarks ‘we really wanted to catch these guys, we didn’t want to come back home empty handed.’ Grief over lost buddies motivated the marines, but not being allowed to revenge them also frustrated them: ‘preferably I’d like to beat these guys up totally, but ehhh, this is not allowed because of the Rules of Engagement, so however sour, we have to stick to these rules.’ The marine felt restrained and unfulfilled in his appetite for revenge, but he and his buddies did manage to inhibited emotions and act professionally during the arrest.

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One can, however, imagine that events like this result in destructive and morally undesirable behaviour. Really scary situations did not make part of the footage under study. Even when under fire, as in 09.11 Zulu, the soldiers were not anxious or fearing for their lives. In 09.11 Zulu the soldiers experience not fear but the thrill of combat. The footage was more or less shocking to the audience in the Netherlands because the special forces were evidently euphoric during the fight which is an emotion that was until now seldom caught on celluloid by an embedded reporter (Franke, 2007). But the fear factor hampering communication is well studied and well known. Fear blocks out knowledge of the other, reduces contact between oneself and the other and leads to a spiral of ever more antagonistic stereotyping. The strategy for reversing the communication breakdown caused by fear is also well studied and in essence simple. The more one knows about the other, the less there is to fear. People do not fear each other when they have gained trust from personal contact. Informal contact does further understanding and is the social cement of institution building. The management strategy is straightforward: do not be a stranger! Listen! Talk!

Discussion: soldiers as cultural operators Because language shapes the world, the cultural operator, i.e. the soldier, should be able to talk to strangers and should learn to listen. The analysis of footage from operations in Afghanistan clearly illustrates the need for cultural awareness, the pitfalls, and the barriers in communication. The footage clarifies the conditions for learning about culture which are positive when people are motivated and when they demonstrate healthy forms of curiosity. It also illuminated the ‘old school’ training in cultural awareness from before 2003 when training was limited to briefings telling soldiers to smile and wave and the ‘do’s and don’ts.’ The training bureau that provided most of these briefings, the bureau Culturele Achtergronden en Information [cultural background and information] was not content with this situation and neither were mission commanders, who assigned cultural anthropologist Jeffrey Schwertzel to organize a more elaborate two-day Cultural Awareness Training, using, amongst other strategies, role play in simulated environments like qualas and mock Afghan villages. The bureau Culturele Achtergronden en Information now provides these types of training at a commanders’ request during the Mission Oriented Training. But training is limited both in time and in content and does not extend beyond furthering cultural awareness. Evaluation studies (Ooink, 2010) arrive at indecisive conclusions on the effectiveness of this training. Measurements before and after deployment show a decrease in positive attitudes regarding the local population, but stressful events and the difference between Force Protection Teams and Provincial Reconstruction Team (who have more contact with the local population and show positive attitudes, whereas Force Protection Troops more often are engaged in fire fights)

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explains this decrease. Whether or not the training is effective cannot be gauged by survey-based methodology, but the effect of training cannot but be modest regarding the low intensity and short duration of the programme. One even needs to be careful that training does not affirm and reinforce preexisting negative attitudes and thereby negatively affect the military preparation for missions. Culture experts have identified two points of discussion: one regards the content and level of training, the other is related to the organization and the timeframe of training. Regarding content and level of training, the discussion is about the degree of cultural proficiency soldiers need to acquire. Regularly four levels are distinguished (Selmeski, 2007; Ooink, 2010). Cultural literacy departs from understanding the own culture whilst being aware that other people will look at the world from a different perspective. Other cultures are regarded as different but equal. By knowing one’s own culture one is emphatically able to read other cultural codes. In contradistinction, cultural awareness specifically is based on factual knowledge of other cultures and learning to behave without breaching cultural codes. Cultural competences (sometimes cross cultural competences or 3C) are defined as ‘a set of cognitive, behavioural, and affective/motivational components that enable individuals to adapt effectively in intercultural environments’ (Abbe, 2007). Dijk, Soeters and Ridder (2010) more specifically specify seven competencies: flexibility, openness, cultural empathy (sensitivity), emotional stability, and social initiative, respect and trust. One who is culturally competent not only reads and knows cultural codes, but also knows how to communicate effectively with people from different cultures. An operator that is culturally intelligent is able to individually adapt to an unfamiliar culture by collecting new cultural knowledge, by motivation and by adequate behaviour. Only the psychologists Ng and Early claim that all soldiers should be proficient at this highest level, the level of being culturally intelligent and they also claim that this level should already be attained during initial phases of training ‘… it will enable effective cross-cultural learning in the multinational environment, i.e., they will have developed meta-cognitive and cognitive capabilities to learn fast during their mission’ (Ng and Early, 2007: 8). Most anthropologists (Selmeski, 2007; Abbe, 2007), however, will find this claim overly ambitious and will modestly propagate acquiring cultural awareness as relevant for all soldiers, whereas they would deem it desirable to develop cultural competences at officer level, especially where it concerns members of Provincial Reconstruction Teams, CIMIC-officers, information operation officers and the like. Commanders, political advisors and cultural advisors are normally required to develop or to have cultural intelligence. And all this leads to the second point of discussion that regards the organization and timeframe of the training. If all soldiers should at least be culturally aware and savvy, training should not start at the last minute, just shortly in time before deployment. During mission oriented training many topics are important and often culture is considered the poor sister when it comes down to allocating time and recourses. Training should start during the initial phase to lay down general prin-

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ciples and to sharpen soldiers’ cognition and intuition. Learning psychology dictates that learning at cognitive, affective and behavioural levels requires repetition. That is why during the initial phase of training cultural literacy should be acquired. Ooink (2010) recommends cultural awareness training during the pre-deployment phase. During the deployment phase the cultural advisor can coach the military, the commander should motivate his troops and recognize possible culture shock. Interactive e-learning with information on local culture could be posted on the net. After deployment lessons are learned, mission reviews and questionnaires should enhance knowledge and culturally proficient agency and understanding. Salmoni and Holmes-Eber (2008: 237-271) propagate a comparable organization of cultural learning in phases and levels. Afghanistan and Uruzgan are associated with counter-insurgency operations. Winslow (2010) wonders how long the interest with counterinsurgency will sustain the opinion that cultural insights will also be relevant for future operations. Will cultural lessons learned soon be forgotten when conflicts are perhaps more kinetic in character? It is likely that culture will also remain highly relevant in future conflict, but Winslow’s words do put the use of cultural competences in perspective by looking through military lenses: ‘Just as Malinowski argued in the 1920s, practical men need cultural information to govern and improve the condition of the natives. Then the question arises as to what type of cultural knowledge they [the military] really need. Do they need to understand all aspects of anthropology? I would argue that they do not. And out of practical necessity soldiers are able to gather cultural knowledge when it is useful to their endeavor. … With some training and insight I believe that the military can in fact be culturally aware and recognize cultural intelligence for what it is – Intel’ (Winslow, 2010: 19-20).

References Abbe, A., L. van Gulick and J.L. Herman (2007) Cross-Cultural Competence in Army Leaders: A Conceptual and Empirical Foundation. U.S. Army Research Institute. Boxer, S. (2009) Manipulating Meaning: The Military Name Game. In: Spradley, J. and McCurdy D.W. (eds.) Conformity and Conflict: Readings in Cultural Anthropology, Pearson, 56-60. Brinkel, T., R. Moelker and S. Westmaas (2009) Politiek-militaire betrekkingen: Recente ontwikkelingen met betrekking tot het primaat van de politiek (Political-military relations: Recent developments with regard to the primacy of politics). In: Moelker, R. Noll, J. and De Weger, M. (eds.) Krijgsmacht en Samenleving. Amsterdam: Boom, 163-190. Dagboek van onze helden (Diary of our heroes) (2010). Broadcasted on National Geographic in six episodes from 12 December to 27 December. Feijten, E., Stakelbeek, H. and Ter Velde, P. (2010) Fokking Hell. Broadcast Sunday 23:30 uur, Nederland 2.

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Franke, V. (2007) 09:11 Zulu – Nederlandse commando’s in Uruzgan, Documentary broadcasted Monday 20 November, 23:10 uur, Nederland 2. Irwin, A. (2005) The Problem of Realism and Reality in Military Training Exercises. In: Ouellet, E. (ed.). New Directions in Military Sociology. Whitby: De Sitter Publications, 93-133. Jongbloed, M. (2003). Smile & wave, Documentary, NPS Korte Film. Ng, K.Y. and Early, P. (2005) Culture and Intelligence, old constructs, new frontiers. London: Sage. Ooink, B.J.H. (2010) Cross Cultural Training. Militaire Spectator 179(3), 133-146. Salmoni, B.A. and Holmes Eber. P. (2008) Operational Culture for the Warfighter. Principles and Applications. Virginia: Marine Corps University Quantico. Selmeski, B. (2007) Military Cross-Cultural Competence: core concepts and individual development. Centre for Security, Armed Forces & Society Royal Military College of Canada. Thomson, D.S. (2008). The Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis: Worlds Shaped by Words. In: Spradley, J. and McCurdy, D.W. (eds.) Conformity and Conflict: Readings in Cultural Anthropology, 4th ed., Pearson, Chapter 12. Van Dijk, A. and Soeters, J. (2008) Language matters in the military. In: Caforio, G., Kümmel, G. and Purkayastha, B. (eds.) Armed Forces and Conflict Resolution: Sociological Perspectives (Contributions to Conflict Management, Peace Economics and Development, Volume 7), Emerald Group Publishing Limited, 303-325. Van Dijk, A., Soeters, J. and De Ridder, R. (2010) Smooth Translation? A Research Note on the Cooperation between Dutch Service Personnel and Local Interpreters in Afghanistan. Armed Forces & Society 36(5), 917-925. Winslow. D. (2010) Anthropology and Cultural Awareness for the Military, In: Leuprecht, C. Troy, J. and Last, D. (eds.) Mission Critical: Smaller Democracies’ Role in Global Stability Operations, Montreal and Kingston: Queen’s Policy Studies Series, McGill-Queen’s University Press.

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Stimulating entrepreneurship in Uruzgan IDEA-officers focusing on private sector development in post-conflict environments Eric-Hans Kramer, Rosa Nelly TrevinyoRodríguez and Desirée Verweij If we had to go to the Business Development Centre – to attend its opening or during its development stage – 5 Bushmasters had to escort us. I had to wear my military uniform and came fully armed. In that way, you can’t go into the classroom to see how the teacher is doing. If you do that, the people in the classroom will think: “What on earth is happening here? Someone from the military is coming in”. That is the disadvantage of educating people in such an environment. Quote from an IDEA-officer, Kramer and Jansen, 2011

Introduction The scene of military officers training and advising local entrepreneurs will not be the first one that comes to mind when thinking about Mission Uruzgan. Yet, a specific unit of the Dutch Armed Forces, called IDEA, was specifically deployed for these purposes. The acronym IDEA stands for Integrated Development of Entrepreneurial Activities and refers to a unit composed of reserve officers. In their everyday lives, these reserve officers are consultants, entrepreneurs, administrators or bankers and they were deployed in Uruzgan for three months. During these three months they worked on Private Sector Development. Although it might appear like an exotic experiment for Armies to develop units for these purposes, IDEA can be understood as a reaction to the challenges of post-conflict environments.

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Armed conflict and violence have significant consequences for many aspects of people’s lives. In its PCER–report the United Nations formulated this as follows (UNDP, 2008: xvii): ‘The legacy of conflict includes substantial loss of livelihoods, employment and incomes, debilitated infrastructure, collapse of state institutions and rule of law, continuing insecurity and fractured social networks.’ It will therefore be obvious that to organizations and agencies involved, post-conflict rebuilding activities pose enormous challenges (Paris and Sisk, 2009). While an Army is trained and equipped to deal with safety and security issues, and while these issues are central to its missions in post-conflict rebuilding environments, inevitably they face challenges that lie outside this realm. It is well-established that economic misery can be caused by violent conflict; while by the same token, economic misery can also lead to violent conflict. The PCER report formulates this as follows (UNDP, 2008: xix): ‘War results from as well as in socioeconomic and political imbalances. Such imbalances are major factors in the outbreak of conflict in the first place and high risk factors in the recurrence of conflict’. At the same time, for economic development to prosper, a safe and secure environment is important. The topics of economic development, safety and security are therefore firmly interrelated (Collier, 2008). IDEA can be perceived as a specific answer of the military organization to the challenges of post-conflict environments. The quote at the top of this chapter shows just one of the everyday problems that IDEA-officers experienced – in this case reviewing the success of a ‘train the trainer programme’. Obviously, stimulating entrepreneurship in an environment such as Uruzgan is quite a challenging task for both ‘teachers’ and ‘students’. The experiences of IDEA-officers are interesting in themselves since we can analyze the variables that foster entrepreneurship in a different cultural setting and under extreme circumstances, comparing and contrasting them with the ones displayed in the European or American contexts. Additionally, these experiences also reveal to an extent the adversity of post-conflict rebuilding. Indeed, the uniqueness of the IDEA initiative comes from the fact that it works on stimulating entrepreneurship in post-conflict environments within the confines of a military organization. Actually, IDEA crosses the boundaries between military organizations and development agencies. Due to the fact that the rebuilding activity is performed within the context of a military organization, the IDEA-case could shed light on the challenges of post-conflict rebuilding and on the variables that foster it in Uruzgan. In that sense, the IDEA-case could be considered a microcosm in which general challenges and dilemmas of post-conflict rebuilding are visible on a small scale. This chapter describes and analyzes the IDEA-case, exploring four central questions: 1. What kinds of activities were employed by IDEA in Mission Uruzgan? 2. What kind of challenges did IDEA-officers experience during their work? 3. What do the experiences of IDEA-officers reveal about the challenges of post-conflict rebuilding? 4. How do the experiences of IDEA-officers compare to experiences in other contexts?

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In order to delve into these questions, some basic theory about the concepts of development and entrepreneurship in unique environments is discussed.

Stimulating entrepreneurship and development The philosophy behind IDEA is that entrepreneurship is essential for an economy to develop. Development literature indeed acknowledges that entrepreneurship at the Base (or Bottom) of the Pyramid (BoP) plays an important role in poverty reduction (Prahalad and Hammond, 2002; Stern, 2002), being considered a self-organizing and bottom-up economic force that mobilizes scattered and hidden development resources (Ellerman, 2006: 208). As a matter of fact, the topic of stimulating BoP-entrepreneurship is one of the main issues of the 2005 World Development Report (World Bank, 2005: 1): Private firms – from farmers and microentrepreneurs to local manufacturing companies and multinational enterprises – are at the heart of the development process. Driven by the quest for profits, they invest in new ideas and new facilities that strengthen the foundation of economic growth and prosperity. They provide more than 90 percent of jobs, creating opportunities for people to apply their talents and improve their situations. They provide the goods and services needed to sustain life and improve living standards. They are also the main source of tax revenues, contributing to public funding for health, education, and other services. Firms are thus critical actors in the quest for growth and poverty reduction.

The relationship between entrepreneurship and development in emerging economies and post-conflict rebuilding conditions is both intricate and arduous. It is generally tied to a deficiency of wealth – due to institutional voids, economic and social instability, and a lack of trust in institutions and people. There are 3 billion people with an average wealth per adult of below USD 10,000 of which 1.1 billion own less than USD 1,000 (per year). Around 2.5 billion people are yet unbanked (Credit Suisse Research Institute, 2011). In order for countries to develop, the generation of economic wealth is important. Entrepreneurial activities are a start, but at the same time it is generally acknowledged that entrepreneurship in challenging contexts must be accompanied by advances in financial services (i.e., microfinance). In order to understand how entrepreneurship at the BoP could promote development in emerging and post-conflict contexts, we first need to establish what we mean by the BoP, and second, how the firms which originate at the BoP – most of them family-owned micro-enterprises – could have an economic and a social development potential. The BoP was originally defined by Prahalad and Hammond (2002) as a market containing the poorest people in the world, which they defined as those making less than $ 2,000 per year (purchasing power parity in US dollars). Since this original articulation, there has been a lot of controversy surrounding the

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exact nature of the BoP, leading to a new definition. London (2007: 11) emphasizes: ‘The base of the pyramid is a term that represents the poor at the base of the global socio-economic ladder, who primarily transact in an informal market economy.’ Prahalad and Hammond (2002) claim that although each individual’s market power is very small, the aggregate market power is significant. When viewing this from an intermediate producer/ service provider perspective, the pyramidal economic potential (aggregate supply) of micro-enterprises at the BoP possess can be devised, since they could push forward with less effort micro-consumption (from ‘new’ emerging consumers) and drive economic advance or recovery as well as ‘partial’ wealth accumulation. Notably, almost 98% of micro-enterprises are either family-owned or family operated. The latter makes sense, due to the fact that low-income families – with limited or no access to credit – use their savings and labour in order to create a road to self-sufficiency. The family provides therefore a safety-net for entrepreneurs, offering not only economic support, but also “cheap” human capital to develop the entrepreneurial activity. Indeed, a significant increase in family-owned microenterprises within emerging economies in Latin America, China and India can be observed. It is furthermore well-established that family values exert a crucial influence on the conduct of family members and on the decision-making processes within family firms (Trevinyo-Rodríguez, 2010). The family value system is continuously (re)articulated, being a force that stimulates long-term decision making in family enterprises. This long-term perspective is (generally) fostered, because the family business is expected to provide the “family” with wellbeing and stability. Family micro-enterprises at the BoP might therefore have not only the economic strength to push the economy, but also might drive emotional ties to unite and commit the family. This explains why families in these conditions are an important part of the institutional context. The previous shows that development is not just about economic growth. Progress equally depends on getting policies right and building effective institutions to implement them: building effective health systems, establishing a credit system, ensuring that education is available, etc. This is emphasized by Amartya Sen (1999: 20) when calling for a more ‘inclusive’ understanding of development in which individual and collective freedom is the essential goal. He notes that poverty should be seen as a deprivation of basic capabilities essential for a humane existence. The question is not whether people have enough resources, but, ‘do they really have choices?’ Development in a broader sense means giving people substantial access to the means of accumulating social power. If ‘inclusive development’ should be the goal of development, ‘inclusive entrepreneurship’ might be a valuable conceptualization of a developmental strategy in very different contexts (Trevinyo-Rodríguez, et al., 2010). This conceptualization is supported by trends in organizing studies on the concept entrepreneurship. Rindova et al. (2009: 478) propose to focus on the verb ‘entrepreneuring’ instead of the noun entrepreneurship. Entrepreneuring is

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regarded as an activity that is not necessarily an economic activity, but a ‘liberating’ activity focused on ‘social change’ (Calás et al., 2009: 552). The BoP way of thinking is a theory. It is a particular way of thinking about economic development and poverty alleviation. For some, this theory might sound overly optimistic and one may suspect that the actual conditions in which this theory is to be applied are quite intransigent. Therefore, empirical research is necessary to develop insight into the conditions that stimulate or hinder the development of inclusive entrepreneurship at the BoP. Indeed, much entrepreneurship in BoP conditions is survivalist entrepreneurship (Naudé 2010b: 233), with hardly any possibilities for ‘inclusive’ ambitions. People living in poor conditions often have limited resources and entitlement opportunities. They will often lack the entrepreneurial and organizational skills to run larger businesses facing social, economic, and political problems. Furthermore, they often are confronted with the problem of ‘rogue leadership’ (i.e., mafias, terrorists, criminal gangs and warlords), which often forms the political context in which microenterprises have to operate, particularly in places where the state is too weak ( Johnson and Soeters, 2008). Nevertheless, when pushed by necessity, human beings become creative, especially if their family depends on it to survive.

The IDEA-case The IDEA project aims to stimulate economic development by promoting entrepreneurial activities within post-conflict environments, being therefore an initiative that may promote inclusive development under extreme circumstances. Post-conflict environments are exceptional since they not only lack institutional infrastructure but also are ‘building or reconstructing [the] country after its government, institutions, population, and economy have been ravaged by large scale conflict’ (Voorhoeve, 2007: 19). One can imagine that in these environments, stimulating entrepreneurship is particularly challenging. According to Naudé (2010a: 4) entrepreneurship is particularly important here because: ‘Firms that survive persistent conflict do so because of entrepreneurs who are able to adjust their business models in the face of conflict, for instance by reducing technological sophistication, relocating supply chains and production locations, or reducing long-term investment.’ IDEA is an organization that is jointly developed and controlled by the Dutch Armed Forces and the Confederation of Netherlands Industry and Employers (known as VNO-NCW) and was established in 2000. Since 2006 the operational part of IDEA has been subsumed under the Dutch CIMIC battalion. The goal of IDEA is to build and develop sustainable local entrepreneurial capacity by advising and training entrepreneurs in post-conflict rebuilding contexts and by informing military commanders regarding instruments for private sector development. Since 2000, IDEA-officers have been deployed in Bosnia, Baghlan (Afghanistan), Uruzgan (Afghanistan) and in a couple of individual missions in Africa (Sudan,

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Burundi and Congo). IDEA-officers generally have a background as entrepreneurs, bankers, accountants, or consultants. After having received basic military training and a specific mission training, they can be deployed as reserve officers. In Uruzgan, IDEA-officers generally were deployed for 3 months, which is shorter than other militaries (4-6 months). The rationale for this is that IDEA-officers have jobs or own businesses in the Netherlands and can only spare a couple of months. The strategic niche IDEA sees for itself is a particular type of mission in areas in which regular development agencies and NGOs are unable to operate as a result of unsafe conditions. These are post-conflict rebuilding areas in which a military organization is able to reach certain unsafe areas, but according to IDEA other organizations aren’t, or at least only sparsely. IDEA-officers are able to enter these areas and to work on development issues. Central to the IDEA-philosophy is that initiating development activities in this unsafe phase is important, not only from a developmental perspective but also because it supports the force acceptance of the military units. In Uruzgan, IDEA was part of the Dutch CIMIC effort and therefore related to the mission teams that worked on rebuilding issues. The IDEA-case was studied using a qualitative methodological approach. The methodological strategy of this case-study was adopted from the grounded theory approach (Glaser and Strauss, 1967). In 2010, we interviewed 21 people who can be differentiated in 4 different groups: IDEA-management, IDEA-officers, external academic specialists, and external post-conflict rebuilding specialists. The interviews were topic guided and subsequently transcribed and analyzed. The analysis focused on categorizing (1) different projects undertaken by IDEA and (2) finding factors that influenced the activities of IDEA. In a case report, the first results were described and reflected upon (Kramer and Jansen, 2011). The case report was used to develop the case description in this chapter.

IDEA in Mission Uruzgan IDEA was not deployed from the onset of Mission Uruzgan but came into the mission area in 2008. At first only one IDEA-officer was deployed in Tarin Kowt at Camp Holland. Later, a second IDEA-officer was deployed in Deh Rawod because it was felt that the specific demands of this outpost required the input of another IDEA officer. Below we will sketch the basic activities of IDEA in the mission area.

The Development of a Local Business Development Center

The development of a local Business Development Centre (BDC) is a cornerstone of IDEA’s approach when it enters in a region. A BDC is an economic structure with a function that is comparable to a chamber of commerce in Western countries. It aims to concentrate different kinds of supportive activities for entrepreneurs. It provides, for example, training and advice to entrepreneurs and provides them with an opportunity to build a social network. Essential in developing a BDC is that its

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management is taken over by a local NGO. This should guarantee sustainability after IDEA has left the region. In Uruzgan this was the Afghan Centre for Training and Development (ACTD), which signed a contract with the Dutch Ministry of Foreign Affairs. This ministry provided funds for the BDC for a particular time-period and ACTD was obliged to meet some criteria (i.e., train a specific number of entrepreneurs). IDEA was involved in establishing this contract and was busy with training ACTD people to run the BDC (train the trainers). The concept of establishing a BDC which would be taken over by locals was originally developed by IDEA in Bosnia. There, the local interpreters took it over after IDEA left. According to some IDEAofficers the BDCs in Baghlan and Bosnia are still operational. In Uruzgan, establishing a BDC was much more challenging than in Baghlan or Bosnia particularly because of the safety situation. IDEA-officers couldn’t visit the BDC whenever they pleased because of the safety situation. Furthermore, it proved to be difficult to find the trainers to be trained.

Training Entrepreneurs

Another central activity of IDEA in Uruzgan has been the training of entrepreneurs. From the time the IDEA officers arrived until the BDC was opened, IDEA recruited entrepreneurs for training, offering them the opportunity to learn about business management. These training programmes were offered to anyone who was interested and actually showed up. Not all ‘entrepreneurs’ in the classes owned their own business when initiating the courses, and actually IDEA officers doubt whether some of them will ever do. IDEA uses a specific method to train entrepreneurs. This is the Start and Improve your Business-method developed by the International Labour Organization (ILO). This method is used all over the developing world and can also be used to train illiterates (see textbox). ILO licenses IDEA to use this methodology and it trains IDEA-officers to be trainers. In Uruzgan, IDEA trained around 200 entrepreneurs in the ILO method and trained ACTD people in the ILO-method (train the trainer). The activity of training entrepreneurs was met with different challenges. Sometimes it was difficult to motivate people to attend training-sessions, one IDEAofficer emphasized, because a certain level of economic activity is necessary to make training relevant. Furthermore, because Afghans in Uruzgan are busy with basic survival, attending training during several hours a day is a luxury not everyone can afford. Also, because trainings were initially given at Camp Holland, they had to come to Camp Holland and therefore had to associate themselves with the Dutch Army. That in itself provided a safety hazard to Afghans, the impact of which is difficult to assess.

Establishing a Microcredit System

Another central activity of IDEA was the establishment of a microcredit bank. The development of a microcredit bank is an activity IDEA initiated together with the World Council of Credit Unions (WOCCU) and the Dutch Ministry of Foreign

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SIYB-ILO The Start and Improve Your Business (SIYB) course is a training programme developed by the International Labour Organization (ILO), specifically oriented toward developing countries. According to the ILO-website, the SIYB method has an outreach of 1.5 million trainees, thereby being one of the biggest global management training programmes currently on the market. It has been translated into more than 30 languages and adapted to local conditions in more than 50 countries. ILO explicates that the SIYB method is both oriented at entrepreneurs and on those that stimulate entrepreneurship. Originally developed in the 1980s, it is oriented at enabling local business development service providers to effectively and independently implement business start up and improvement training and related activities. Furthermore, it is oriented at enabling potential and existing small entrepreneurs (both women and men) through these organizations to start viable businesses, to increase the viability of existing enterprises, and to create quality employment for others in the process. The SIYB-course consists of interrelated training packages and supporting materials for small-scale entrepreneurs to start and grow their businesses. It aims at increasing the viability of Small and Medium Enterprises through management principles suitable for the environment of developing countries. The four basic packages of the SIYB method are: 1 Generate Your Business. This package is intended for people without a business plan who would like to start a business. 2 Start Your Business. This package is for potential entrepreneurs with a concrete business idea who want to start a profitable and sustainable small business. The programme is a combination of training, fieldwork and after-training support activities. 3 Improve Your Business. This package introduces already practicing entrepreneurs to good principles of business management, i.e. marketing, costing, stock control, record keeping, buying and business planning. 4 Expand Your Business. This gives growth-oriented small and medium entrepreneurs the practical tools to implement and realize fast business growth and profits. Source: www.ilo.org

Affairs. The bank was located on Camp Holland, but it also had offices in Deh Rawod and Chora. In the final stages of IDEA’s presence in Uruzgan, the bank had around 1,200 customers and issued approximately 500,000 dollars in loans. The development of this bank was met with some particular and peculiar challenges. One example was that the microcredit bank developed certain undesirable practices to stimulate repayment (basically threatening clients). Furthermore, a 14 yearold boy, who was related to a local powerbroker, was a member of the management

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in one of the offices. Phenomena such as these were considered to be in contradiction to the entrepreneurial climate IDEA aimed to establish.

Creating clusters of firms

Developing cooperatives between small, often family-owned firms was a development strategy that had already been initiated by IDEA in Bosnia and Baghlan. One particular example of a cooperative in Uruzgan is a ‘cold storage’ that was built by the Dutch Army (basically a container buried in the ground). The economic logic for cold storage was that if farmers were able to store their products, they would be able to market them for a longer time-period. In that case, farmers would be able to sell products at times where there is less supply and therefore prices are higher. The challenge for IDEA is that a sustainable value chain and an organization (cooperative) structure have to be developed around a physical structure. Developing cooperatives is a well-known development instrument (Penrose-Buckley, 2007). One challenge of establishing cooperatives in Uruzgan was that the mere phrase ‘cooperative’ has ‘Soviet’ connotations in Afghanistan, which after the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan in the 1980s is problematic. Another challenge is that in a region such as Uruzgan, people who are able to run a cooperative are scarce because of lack of education, a problem frequently encountered in developing countries (Carmen & Sobrado, 2000). Within IDEA there had been some discussion whether such – more or less – advanced solutions were in fact suitable for the poorer areas of Uruzgan. One particular IDEA-officer called developing cooperative clusters ‘jumping ten meters high’ given the economic state of the area.

Giving advice to military commanders

The last category of activities of IDEA that we will discuss here is advising military commanders. One example in which IDEA-officers advised their mission-team commanders was in the Deh Rawod area. There, IDEA made a social economical assessment and a development plan. This development plan connected economic development and issues that are covered by other CIMIC-specialists. For example, part of the plan was that a court-system should be established. Although it might seem quite different from Private Sector Development, and although IDEA-officers didn’t actually work on establishing such a system – it is actually an important prerequisite for the development of economic activity. This shows that private sector development is not an activity that occurs in isolation, but that it is related to other ‘social development’ issues. Part of the social development plan that was developed by IDEA was also that some ways to help women to contribute to economic activities were sought, particularly women with a problematic social standing (for example widows). This is actually an example of how ‘emancipation through entrepreneurship’ might work. Another example of the advisory role to military commanders was an IDEA-officer who asked soldiers to observe whether local farmers struggled with parasites in their fruit-trees. Although soldiers initially didn’t see the relevance of such an issue, the IDEA-officer argued that this was crucial, also

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from a security perspective. A farmer that with parasites in his fruit-trees sees his income threatened. As a result, he might become more vulnerable to Taliban persuasion to plant Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs) on the roads that pass his parcels. One particular challenge for this advisory role is that it was an ‘unstable function’. Whether IDEA officers developed an advisory role differed between time periods. To start with, it very much depended on personal relationships between IDEA-officers and military commanders who were both only deployed for a couple of months. Furthermore, because the challenges of Uruzgan were partly new to the Dutch Army, no established way for this advisory role to be enacted was available. Mission Uruzgan was therefore the scene of many ‘organizational experiments’ which sometimes creatively solved local problems, but which also could become lost if newly rotated personnel failed to see the relevance.

Challenges for IDEA in Mission Uruzgan The previous section briefly discussed IDEAs main activities in Mission Uruzgan. Here we want to discuss some challenges with which IDEA-officers were confronted during these activities. These challenges refer to the different specific environmental conditions in which their activities were conducted. The first challenge is the nature of the local economic situation. Uruzgan is a region that differs significantly from Baghlan and Bosnia, in which IDEA had been previously deployed. Consequently, it is more difficult to implement specific IDEAconcepts, such as the BDC, which at times was even difficult to reach for IDEAofficers. One particular challenge of the Uruzgan-region was that it was much poorer than Bosnia and Baghlan. The economic landscape is described by some IDEA-officers as ‘biblical’, with many small farms which produce crops mainly for the farmers and their family’s own use. An industrial structure, which was available in Bosnia and in a rudimentary way also in Baghlan, does not exist. Also craftsmanship was only developed in a rudimentary way. As a result, discussion arose within IDEA regarding which economic actors should be targeted. The concept ‘Private Sector Development’ means something different in different regions. Traders on the local market, being the typical example of entrepreneurs, would normally be IDEA’s focus. Some IDEA-officers argued, however, that these traders were actually the local top-entrepreneurs and were well-to-do and not in need of much help. Instead, they argued that IDEA should target the poor farmers. One IDEA-officer told that the consequence of this was that they started to perceive farmers as entrepreneurs that required entrepreneurial advice instead of merely agricultural guidance. This shows that – what seem to be generally applicable concepts like training programmes and the establishment of a BDC – should be tailored to the local conditions. This requires much sensitivity to local economic conditions, which is made more difficult by the fact that in Uruzgan IDEA-officers were in the mission area for just three months.

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The second challenge for IDEA was the nature of the safety situation in Uruzgan. The quote at the beginning of this chapter explains in just a few words what the major problem was. Uruzgan was particularly in the beginning very unsafe, which complicated the work of IDEA-officers. In other missions the safety issue was also present but much less so. In Bosnia, IDEA-officers could move through the area without force protection. Freedom of movement was more restricted in Baghlan. However, in Uruzgan, IDEA-officers typically required 5 Bushmasters and 20 soldiers force protection in order to move through the area. This made work more difficult for IDEA-officers. The military organization (Battlegroup) occasionally denied them force protection because there were other priorities. Some IDEA-officers were bound to Camp Holland during their stay in Uruzgan. It became difficult for them to observe local conditions, to visit entrepreneurs, to establish personal relations with locals, etc. Even the BDC which they helped to establish was difficult to reach. Another consequence of this safety situation is that IDEA-officers needed to be able to persuade the Battlegroup of the value of their activities. If the Battlegroup failed to see the added value of IDEA, they could deny them force protection. This was unnecessary in Bosnia, because the work of IDEA-officers didn’t depend on force protection. A consequence of this is that it was important for IDEA officers to establish good relationships with the Battlegroup which was complicated by the fact that their mission only lasted for three months. The third general challenge for IDEA was the issue of local culture. One example that shows the importance of insight in local culture – which is actually an example of the Baghlan mission – is the development of cooperatives. Insights in tribal structures appeared to be crucial in order to be able to judge the potential success of cooperatives. If craftsmen originated from different tribes, developing cooperatives proved to be next to impossible. Another cultural issue is the local power relations. Generally, development specialists (which were available in Task Force Uruzgan) advised IDEA that if they wanted to get anything done, they had to accept local culture as a given and therefore they had to deal with local power-brokers. Some IDEA-officers regretted they didn’t do more to try to change things, because then more profound change would have been possible. Experts on development outside the IDEA organization considered that IDEA-officers might be good bankers, entrepreneurs and consultants in the Netherlands, but lack insights and skills to deal with development issues. Opposed to that, different IDEA-officers emphasized that the problems of entrepreneurs are universal and as such they have the unique ability to understand their everyday problems.

Reflection on the experiences of IDEA The relationship between entrepreneurship and inclusive development has been the object of rather optimistic theorizing. While this relationship seems valid in theory, the IDEA-case shows how complicated the implementation of this philoso-

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phy actually can be. Understanding the complications of this process is essential in order to develop the philosophy of stimulating BoP entrepreneurship. Here, we want to make a tentative step to model this complicated implementation process. In the description of the IDEA-case several variables that impacted development and reconstruction are salient. We devised a model that might explain the process involved in Promoting Inclusive Development (PID) within the private sector in this community (see Figure 15.1). Figure 15.1 Promoting Inclusive Development (PID)-Model Fostering Education (i.e. Training/ advise) Local culture

Safety environment

Cooperative social structure

Financial mechanisms

Supportive economic Infrastructure

Inclusive development

Existing economic situation

Family cohesion and emotional stability

Institutional infrastructure

The independent variables in Figure 15.1 are derived from the activities that IDEA performed in Uruzgan. These activities can be interpreted as focusing on an underlying more abstract phenomenon that is important for inclusive development. So, providing a training-centre shows the importance of education; aiming to develop cooperatives shows the importance of cooperative social (family) structures; the establishment of a microcredit bank shows the importance of the availability of financial mechanisms; the BDC shows the importance of supportive economic infrastructure; and making development plans that underlined the importance of – for example – a court system, shows the importance of institutional infrastructure. The moderating variables were derived from the challenges that IDEA-officers met in Uruzgan, irrespective of a specific activity (the existing economic situation, the local culture and the safety environment). We added a further moderating variable Family cohesion and emotional stability, which is not directly emphasized in the IDEA-case. However, it is well established that many families at the BoP have such problems (e.g., divorces, single mothers, intra family violence, /alcohol abuse, gender issues). The stimulation of inclusive development would be easier or harder depending on this variable. The dependent variable,

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inclusive development, is in the end the goal of private sector development activities such as the ones performed by IDEA. Although, the PID model is tentative and potentially incomplete and we cannot generalize the PID model, it does seem to have the potential to be developed further on the basis of existing theory and to use it in comparative research. For example, the creation, development and sustainability of family owned micro-enterprises (corner stores called ‘changarros’) in Mexico (Trevinyo-Rodríguez, forthcoming), most of the variables and activities exposed in our PID-model seem relevant and relate in some way to the notion of fostering development in its broader sense. The latter provides us with new insights regarding the possibility of replicating development solutions in different environments, emerging and post-conflict rebuilding contexts, therefore fostering future comparative research studies between and among these economies. A last remark can be made about initiatives such as IDEA. Earlier we called IDEA an ‘organizational experiment’ in order to deal with the challenges of postconflict rebuilding environments. As such, IDEA could be perceived as representing an interesting case in the development of a post-conflict rebuilding policy. Kaldor (2007: 12) defines ‘new wars’ as a mix of war, large-scale human rights violations and organized crime. New wars ask for a different approach. According to Kaldor this implies putting the right of human beings above the rights of states and in doing so connecting security with development. In this perspective human rights and human development go hand-in-hand. In Kaldor’s view the military entrusted with the human security policy is a mix of military personnel, civilians and police personnel. As indicated above their primary task is taking care of the safety of civilians. Human security forces are neither peacekeepers, nor traditional militaries; they combine humanitarian aid and development; they create legal employment and institutions focused on rule of law and social and economic development. It would be valuable to evaluate to what degree IDEA fits Kaldor’s principles.

References Calás, M., Smircich, L. and Bourne, K. (2009) Extending the Boundaries: Reframing Entrepreneurship as Social Change Through Feminist Perspectives. Academy of Management Review 34(3), 552-569. Carmen, R. and Sobrado, M. (eds.) (2000) A Future for the excluded. Job creation and Income generation by the Poor. Clodomir Santos de Morais and the Organization Workshop. London: Zed Books. Collier, P. (2008) The Bottom Billion: Why the Poorest Countries are Failing and What Can Be Done About It. New York: Oxford University Press. Credit Suisse Wealth Report (2011) Global Wealth Report. Credit Suisse Research Institute. Ellerman, D. (2006) Helping people help themselves. From the world bank to an alternative philosophy of development assistance. The University of Michigan Press.

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Glaser, B.G. and Strauss, A.L. (1967) The discovery of grounded theory: Strategies for qualitative research. Chicago: Aldine. Johnson, H.N. and Soeters, J. (2008) Jamaican Dons, Italian Godfathers, and the chances of a “Reversible Destiny”. Political Studies 56, 166-191. Kaldor, M. (2007) Human Security: Reflections on Globalization and Intervention. Cambridge, UK: Polity Press. Kramer, E.H and Jansen, T. (2011) Het stimuleren van ondernemerschap door reservisten in postconflict gebieden De ervaringen en ontwikkelingen van IDEA (Stimulating entrepreneurship by reservists in post-conflict areas. Experiences and developments with regard to IDEA) . Breda: NLDA (in press). London, T. (2007) A Base of the Pyramid Perspective on Poverty Alleviation. University of Michigan: The William Davidson Institute. Naudé, W. (2010a) Promoting Entrepreneurship in Developing Countries: Policy Challenges. Helsinki: UNU-World Institute for Development Economics Research. Naudé, W. (2010b) Is pro-active government support needed for entrepreneurship in developing countries? In: Naudé, W. (ed.) Entrepreneurship and economic development. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Paris, R. and Sisk, T, (2009) The dilemmas of statebuilding. Confronting the contradictions of postwar peace operations. London: Routledge. Penrose-Buckley, C. (2007) Producer Organisations. A guide to Developing Collective Rural Enterprises. Oxford: Oxfam, GB. Prahalad, C. and Hammond, A. (2002) Serving the World´s Poor, Profitably. Harvard Business Review, 4-11. Rindova, V. Barry, D. and Ketchen, D. (2009) Introduction to Special Topic Forum: Entrepreneuring as emancipation. Academy of Management Review 34(3), 477-491. Sen, A. (1999) Development as Freedom. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Stern, N. (2002) A strategy for development. Washington, D.C.: The World Bank. Stiglitz, J. (2002a) Towards a new paradigm for development: Strategies, Policies and Processes. In: Ha-Joon Chang (ed.). The Rebel Within: Joseph Stiglitz and the World Bank. London: Anthem Press. Trevinyo-Rodríguez, R.N. (forthcoming) Pursuing Financial Inclusion of Family Firms at the Base of the Pyramid (BoP): The Case of Convenience Stores and Microenterprises in Nuevo León, Mexico. Journal of Small Business and Entrepreneurship. Trevinyo-Rodríguez, R.N. (2010) Empresas Familiares: Visión Latinoamericana. México: Pearson-Prentice Hall. Trevinyo-Rodríguez, R.N. Kramer, E.H. and Verweij, D. (2010). Breaking the poverty trap. In: One perspectives. Washington, D.C.: John Hopkins University. UNDP (2008) Post-Conflict Economic Recovery. Enabling Local Ingenuity. Crisis Prevention and recovery report 2008. New York: United Nations Publications. Voorhoeve, J. (2007) From war to the rule of Law. Peacebuilding after violent conflicts. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press. World Bank (2005) World Development Report 2005. A Better Investment Climate for Everyone. New York: Oxford University Press.

16

Enhancing Uruzgani Governance The viability of a PRT’s civilmilitary network Mirjam Grandia Mantas, Myriame Bollen and Sebastiaan Rietjens

Introduction Today’s security debates frame fragile states such as Afghanistan to be both security threats ánd development challenges. To bring about reconstruction and stabilization in a fragile state, good linkages between the diplomatic, developmental and military domains at all levels are required (Hilhorst, 2008). In line with foreign policies in countries such as the United Kingdom and Canada, The Netherlands has conducted its stabilization efforts in the Afghan province of Uruzgan ‘comprehensively’, integrating defence, diplomacy and development. The Dutch ‘comprehensive approach’ includes joint analysis, intensive international civil military cooperation and the investment of adequate resources, long-term commitment, support from parliament and on-going assessments of state performance (Bot, 2006; Koenders, 2007). To manage all aspects of this strategy simultaneously and to insure balanced action on all fronts and at all levels military, political, and developmental leaders need to coordinate their efforts (Schafer, 1988). Moreover, tangible goals are considered prerequisites for a comprehensive approach to be successful (Betts, 2001). As early as 2005, the Dutch Minister of Foreign Affairs, in the so-called ‘article 100 letter’ informed the Dutch parliament on the intention to deploy a mission to Uruzgan. The provincial reconstruction team (PRT) was intended to be the central element of the stabilization effort (Bot, 2006) as well as the implementing vehicle for the comprehensive approach (Letter to Parliament 193, 2005). Its mission was to increase security and stability, promote governance, and facilitate the reconstruction of the province. This chapter focuses on the viability of a PRT’s civil military network concerned with ‘governance’, and, specifically, on PRT6 deployed from October 2008 until March 2009. PRT6 was selected because it found itself at a crossroads between

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military and civilian command and, in fact, turned out to be the last PRT under military command. In addition, PRT6 lessons learned culminated into new insights and actions as can be concluded from the more civilian approach to advance governance from then on (Letter to Parliament 330, 2009). In the field, governance increasingly is perceived to be the critical variable for stabilization, as corroborated by the assessment of the commander of PRT6, stating that advancing ‘governance constituted PRT6’s leading line of operation’1. In this chapter we assess the viability of PRT6’s civil military network on governance. In the following section we first provide an overview of PRT6’s organizational structure, its mission and the impact of two attempts undertaken in 2008 and 2009 to operationalize the comprehensive approach at field level. Driven by the need for tangible goals, both attempts have been initiated bottom-up. Next, to achieve these goals PRT6 had to form a viable network for cooperation both within and outside Taskforce Uruzgan (TFU). In the third section we analyze the viability of PRT6’s civil military network concerned with governance along the template of the so-called viable systems model (VSM) (Beer, 1995). The fourth section concludes our findings.

PRTs: The embodiment of the comprehensive approach To stabilize the Afghan province of Uruzgan the Dutch-led TFU deployed from August 2006 until August 2010. It contained a mix of diplomatic, military and development means to perform its mission: To improve the stability and security in Urzugan by increasing the support of the population for its local authorities and by diminishing the support for Taliban and other aligned groups. The promotion of good governance, an efficient police and army, the advance of the rule of law and the execution of CIMIC-and reconstruction activities are important aspects of this approach (Letter to Parliament 193, 2005).

This mission was to be fulfilled by the PRT supported by the battlegroup of the Dutch Taskforce. From 2006 until March 2009, the PRT was led by a military officer and consisted of approximately 60 troops. Its main capacity was made up of four so-called mission teams, each being responsible for a specific area of operation. As part of the PRT staff so-called functional specialists were deployed. These were reserve officers with specific civil expertise. On average, five of these functional specialists operated within the PRT and their background varied from rule of law and civil infrastructure to agriculture. In addition to military personnel, civilians from the Dutch Ministries of Foreign Affairs and Development Cooperation were embedded in the PRT. They were

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political advisors, development advisors, tribal advisors (later called cultural advisors) and counternarcotics experts. At the start of the operation only three civilians were attached to the PRT. However, throughout the operation it became apparent that the civilian contribution was insufficient and as a result it gradually increased to thirteen. In March 2009, the command of the PRT was handed over to a civilian representative of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and from then onwards the PRT was led by a civilian director rather than a military commander (Mathijssen and Mollema, 2008). Having a civilian commanding the PRT, and later also as a cocommander of the TFU, greatly improved the status and influence of the civilians in the TFU. It was simply unique and unprecedented that a civilian commanded a military unit (that is, the PRT). From this time onward, the planning and execution of most TFU activities became a concerted effort of the military commander and his civilian counterpart. Both were involved in the development of the courses of action (planning) and the decision briefs (action) and together the civilian representative and the military commander functioned as an integrated team. This organizational change influenced the position of the PRT in terms of both the planning and execution of operations which were in need of a civilian approach. As illustrated by the former Ambassador of the Netherlands in Kabul: While the mission had development and improved governance as its aims from the start, in the first phase it was basically conceived as a military mission: a mission, certainly, charged with an integrated approach defence, development, diplomacy – but a mission, nevertheless, carried out almost exclusively by the military. It gradually became clear that civilian expertise and presence had added value and the security situation allowed more civilian organizations to work in Uruzgan. It also became increasingly manifest that governance, at provincial and district level, needed to be improved considerably, in order to convince the population that they were better off on the Government’s side. This obviously required international support of a civilian nature, which in turn added to the enhanced profile of the mission’s civilian component2.

Meanwhile, just before and during the deployment of PRT6, two major attempts to better operationalize the comprehensive approach have been embarked on. In 2008, TFU4 tried to address the lack of tangible goals hampering the operationalization of the joint civil military effort in the field along the lines of defence, diplomacy and development. To this effect, the ‘focal paper’ was drafted. It addressed the need for a ‘roadmap’ of so called ‘desired effects’ and provided an overview of intents and effects. By delineating the interdependencies between effects, the focal paper aimed to facilitate the assessment of the impact of activities (TFU, 2008). As underlined by one of the previous PRT commanders:

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The 3D concept is the best we have got but it can be improved since it lacks a strategic vision about the goals which should be achieved in Uruzgan. As a result we improvise and experiment which has led to relatively positive results, but does not contribute to the sustainability of our successes.3

In 2009, three years into TFU’s deployment into Uruzgan, another campaign plan – including a comprehensive planning process – was drafted. This campaign plan, labelled the Uruzgan Campaign Plan (UCP), was to facilitate cooperation and unity of effort amongst all actors within the task force and with all TFU’s partners in the province (TFU, 2009). Building upon previous experiences from both civil and military personnel, the soon to be commander of TFU6 and a small civil military team tried to improve the comprehensive approach at taskforce level. PRT6 actively contributed to the information needed for drafting the UCP. The authors refer to the UCP as a (long-term) planning document to facilitate an iterative approach. Such an approach was deemed necessary to address the ever-changing theatre characterized by interdependencies between many parties at multiple levels (local, national and international) driven by differing interests and motives. The iterative approach is claimed to have provided sufficient flexibility to adjust itself to (un)expected changes in the mission setting (Van Bemmel and Eikelboom, 2010). According to the commander of PRT6 the UCP did not dramatically change the modus operandi of neither TFU nor the PRT. It did however clearly communicate that both the comprehensive approach and the PRT being its central element were crucial in attaining operational success. This same commander stated: ‘The need for communicating the essence of the comprehensive approach, thereby highlighting the interdependencies of the various stabilizations efforts, cannot be underestimated’.4 Against this background, we will now assess the viability of PRT6’s civil military network concerned with governance in the section below.

The viability of PRT6’s civil-military network The comprehensive approach to stability in Uruzgan necessitates civil military networks to cooperate along the interrelated lines of defence, diplomacy and development. However, cooperation within and between civil military networks characterized as ‘multi-actor and multi level’ does not come about automatically (Beeres and Van Fenema, 2008; Rietjens and Bollen, 2008). For one thing, such networks involve actors and domains that differ materially from one another. They are differentiated in terms of power, backed by different resources and they represent different, potentially conflicting interests. Besides the need for tangible goals, for cooperation to occur the partners in a network should be aware of their interdependencies to attain those goals. Also, a network should be characterized by some degree of consensus

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on the domain of cooperation, the division of responsibilities and leadership and trust (Bollen, 2002). In addition to these conditions for cooperation within and between civil military networks, the Viable Systems Model (VSM) offers a framework to diagnose and (re)design the distribution of complexity to ensure the network’s viability. The ability to remain viable as long as necessary to reach joint goals depends on five interrelated functions, both necessary and sufficient (Beer, 1995). The remainder of this section first provides an overview of PRT6´s civil military network and subsequently discusses these five functions. PRT6’s civil military network concerned with advancing governance consisted of the commander, the Dutch Foreign Affairs’ political, cultural, tribal and development advisors, the four mission teams and the functional specialists. In addition, the Dutch embassy in Kabul, by engaging in a continuous dialogue with Afghan authorities on the need to strengthen Uruzgani civil service, contributed to PRT’s civil military network. The embassy also directly commanded the foreign affairs officials that operated in Uruzgan. The Uruzgani partners in the network were represented by the provincial governor, provincial council and several provincial ministries. At district and local levels, key-leaders such as district chiefs, mullahs (religious leaders) and maliks (village elders) were part of the network. Because of scarce resources the network had to draw on TFU’s battlegroup for force protection and transport. For this reason, TFU’s commander is also regarded as a partner to PRT6’s civil military network. As to Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs), International Organizations (IOs) and Governmental Organizations (GOs), the Asia Foundation, die Gesellschaft für Technische Zusammenarbeit (GTZ), the United Nations Disaster Program (UNDP) and the Independent Directorate for Local Governance (IDLG) are viewed as contributing partners to the network. It would take United Nations Assistance Mission Afghanistan (UNAMA) until May 2009 to be able to engage actively in Uruzgan, by opening office premises.5 Until then, UNAMA’s special representative for Uruzgan whenever visiting Uruzgan would work at PRT6’s premises (Letter to Parliament 357, 2009).

Primary activities

The first function of a viable network refers to the collection of primary activities that constitutes the network’s identity. If, for example, a civil military network is to advance socio-economic development in a target district in Uruzgan, the accompanying collection of primary activities can be in education, health care, agricultural development and transportation. In this analysis we focus on governance. Acknowledging the partners’ different perceptions and definitions of governance, for the scope of this study we take a broad definition: ‘the process whereby societies or organizations make important decisions, determine whom they involve and how they render account’ (Nixon, 2008). The collection of primary activities of the PRT6 network advancing governance consisted of three activity clusters: quick impact projects (QUIPs), long-term development activities and key leader engagement. During the deployment of PRT6,

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several QUIPs on governance were initiated and executed. These projects were typically small-scale, had a budget of less than 12,000 USD and were initiated and led by military, most often the mission teams. The actual execution however was mostly done by local contractors. The ‘Governor’s compound’ was a prime example of such a QUIP. This project included many different tasks including the provision of ICT and means for communication, the upgrading of offices and buildings and the assistance to policy makers. The second cluster of activities consisted of long-term development activities, mostly carried out by the NGOs operating in Uruzgan. Funding for these activities was provided by the Royal Netherlands Embassy in Kabul through the development advisors that were embedded in the PRT. These advisors were accountable for managing the funds and development activities. Significant examples of such activities were the governance training programmes for local administrators that were initiated by IDLG. In close cooperation with the Asia Foundation and GTZ, IDLG reinforced the governor’s staff by thirteen civil servants and various administrators of line ministries received basic training in reading and writing. In November 2008, together with UNDP, the Dutch Ministry of Development Cooperation initiated a long-term joint programme to facilitate capacity building on behalf of the provincial administration of Uruzgan (Grandia, 2009; Letter to Parliament 357, 2009). Key leader engagement was the third cluster of governance-related primary activities. At all levels personnel of PRT6 liaised with key leaders. The mission teams engaged with the local and district levels, while the political advisors, the commander of the TFU and the PRT director focused on the provincial level. The activities included support to the organization of shuras and establishing development councils. The so-called ‘District Council on Tour’ aimed for local authorities to improve cooperation between Uruzgani ethnic and tribal groups on provincial administration issues. The main objective of the tour was promoting the district officials to their constituents. This was done by for example actively engaging them in the organization and conduct of shuras (Letter to Parliament 330, 2009).

Coordination

In civil military networks, such as the one described above, primary activities are likely to need scarce resources such as know-how, personnel and one another’s output; hence, primary activities are interdependent. Such interdependencies have to be coordinated to prevent primary activities from becoming entangled in a process oscillating between allocation and the revision of allocation of resources. The second function to be performed in a viable network, therefore, consists of – tools for – coordination. To align the resources needed for executing the primary activities several coordination mechanisms were in place. Intense coordination took place within the PRT itself. The tribal, political and development advisors supported the mission teams of the PRT in their respective areas. They often accompanied the mission teams during shuras or meetings with key leaders. Throughout the deployment the advi-

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sors assumed greater responsibility and also held many individual meetings with Uruzgani officials. Feedback to the military regarding their work and the results of, for example, the meetings they had, was provided in several different ways. This varied from oral briefings to uploading reports of meetings to the internal database, or to providing an update in the commander’s update assessment that was held each morning. To realize the goals set for governance activities such as the governor’s compound, the IDLG training programmes and the District Council on Tour, PRT6’s network depended heavily on military resources for force protection and transportation provided by TFU’s battlegroup. Although a partner in the civil military network advancing governance, simultaneously, the battlegroup belonged to other networks, i.e. concerned with security and, consequentially, was tasked with differing – and sometimes conflicting- primary activities. Coordination turned out to be of great importance to match scarce resources to conflicting primary activities. This was illustrated by former PRT commanders who felt security operations to be prioritized over civil military activities.6 Upon the introduction of the concept ‘PRT in the lead’, the PRT became the centre of TFU’s planning cycle. The awareness grew that civil and military components within the TFU were interdependent and should be closely coordinated and executed. By promoting PRT operations to be the core of TFU’s effort, apprehensions between PRT and battlegroup were soothed. Also, from March 2009, by appointing a civilian PRT director a major contribution to coordinating the interdependent primary activities was made. The first civilian PRT director described the appointment of a civilian as a natural evolution: The situation on the ground was ready for a more civilian approach and this was supported through all levels in the TFU.7

Finally, from February 2009, as a result of intensified comprehensive planning of civil military operations, unity of effort increased and the ensuing degree of coordination proved beneficial to the execution of primary activities.

Control

Even when coordinated, a primary activity can still pursue its own goals without contributing to the identity and strategy of the network as a whole. To ensure synergy between primary activities VSM distinguishes the function: control. Control is tasked to ‘translate’ (operationalize) the goals of the civil military network, into goals for the primary activities as well as to monitor their progression. To perform these tasks control can dispose of three instruments. First, control gives direct commands and receives direct reports from the primary activities’ management. Second, by auditing this management layer, control is aware of any problems and is able to support the management in problem solving. Last, by controlling the coordination function, control ensures the synergy of the primary activities.

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Apart from being involved in the realization of the network’s identity and strategy, control is also involved in its adaptation. Based on control’s knowledge of primary activities and the problems they face, it is also tasked to review proposals for innovation as well as assessing their feasibility given the primary activities’ potential to transform. Regarding the PRT’s role in advancing governance in Afghanistan, three levels can be distinguished. At a national level, PRTs are expected to expand Afghanistan’s central government’s legitimacy in the provinces. Looking at the level of TFU/ PRT6 this objective has been ‘translated’ into the mission to advance ‘governance in Uruzgan’. Although this chapter does not address tensions between national and provincial level governance, it should be noted that an increased legitimacy of the Uruzgani authorities does not automatically reflect an increase in the central government’s legitimacy and vice versa. The last level compromises the local level. Although the concept of governance was operationalized into tangible goals for the governor’s compound, the IDLG’s training programmes and the District Council on Tour, the goals had to be regularly adapted to Uruzgani conditions and capacities for PRT6’s mission to remain attuned to reality. For instance, IDLG’s training and capacity building programmes for local administrators met with an illiteracy percentage of 95. Also, it turned out to be challenging to convince skilled Afghan administrators to accept a job in Uruzgan. Compounding this, PRT6 suffered from a lack of civilian expertise. Instead, to ensure the District Council on Tour objectives would be attained by Afghan administrators, such as district chiefs, PRT6’s commander assigned military staff to monitor and assist the district chiefs: Governance was one of my priorities. Even though I realized that the military cannot be responsible for this, something needed to be done.

By being well aware of the problems faced by the management of the primary activities, the PRT6 commander was able to exert control by adapting the networks’ means.

Intelligence

The function intelligence is tasked to continually scan the network’s environment for opportunities and threats and to initiate adaptation in such a way to keep the primary activities aligned to innovations. Intelligence enables the civil military network to operate on the basis of demands. In an environment as non-permissive as Uruzgan, the need for continually scanning opportunities and threats affecting the network is crucial. A striking example was the difference in operational tempo. After the TFU had secured several zones, they intended to transfer the responsibility to local authorities and the Afghan Security Forces. These, however, lacked capacity to follow up TFU’s activities. This resulted in a security void that again attracted insurgent activities. In adapting to

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Afghan reality and pace, the TFU changed its approach to stabilization by slowing down the tempo of expansion (Letter to Parliament, 357, 2009). And by the same token, PRT6 gained additional time to support the local authorities. To gain awareness of the environment the PRT continuously collected information. At the start of the operation in 2006, a joint civil assessment was made by the Ministry of Defence and Foreign Affairs that functioned as a baseline. Throughout the operation this assessment was updated frequently. The mission teams collected information from their respective areas of operation. Through social patrols, meetings with key leaders and personal observations they contributed to the process of information gathering. The information collected by the mission teams indicated that tribal and ethnic problems were a bigger threat to stability than the threat posed by the insurgents. According to the PRT commander, the focus of information collection as directed by the TFU focused too much on the insurgents as the main source of instability. This proved to be different in reality. Apart from the mission teams, the PRT was also greatly informed by its intelligence officers. They were in close contact with the intelligence branch of the TFU and the other units that were operating in the southern area of Afghanistan and possessed detailed information on a wide variety of issues. The civilian representatives operating within the PRT contributed insight from a developmental perspective. They gained information through, for example, the Dutch embassy, the NGOs and IOs and the meetings they held with Afghan leaders and organizations. The information that was collected by the military and civilian parts of the PRT was shared in various ways, as was already indicated in the coordination function. This was, however, challenged by the different IT systems that were in place. While the military used the TITAAN network extensively, the civilian representatives were not able to access this network. Much information was therefore shared through emailing or oral conversations. Also NATO classification hampered the possibilities for civilian representatives to read military documents. From their side the civilians also used own databases and information channels (e.g., through the Dutch embassy in Kabul) that were inaccessible to their military counterparts.

Policy

The last function that the VSM identifies is labelled policy. This function coordinates the interaction between the functions control and intelligence. In doing so, policy prevents several problems occuring. In case of inadequate interaction, proposals for change will not be assessed in terms of the network’s ability to transform. As a result, both the realization and the adaptation of the network’s identity and strategy will grind to a halt. Next, when intelligence dominates control the network risks ‘innovatism’ in proposing technologies that do not fit the primary activities’ ability to change. For example, introducing state-of-the-art ICT to facilitate transportation may not be aligned to the way in which local stakeholders transport goods, risking that they are left out of the equation altogether. When, on the other hand, control dominates intelligence the network risks ‘conservatism’. Proposals to inno-

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vate would be rejected because of current engagements and the projects at hand. To counter such problems, policy is tasked to coordinate the interaction and to consolidate the results in a redefinition of the network’s identity and strategy so as to keep attuned to both environmental developments and the potential for change. Within PRT6’s civil military network, the civil director of the PRT executed the policy function in close cooperation with the military commander of the TFU. To improve Uruzgani governance, the civil military network was supposed to contribute to the development of institutions, a tribally balanced functioning and fair administration, and simultaneously, to stimulate the enhancement of local social structures. To this effect, the main effort was on strengthening governmental structures, such as the Provincial Council and the Provincial Security Council. This has been done in two ways. First, top-down by stimulating transparent accountable meetings and through training and appointment of credible civil servants and administrators. Second, bottom-up by creating grassroot support for the Uruzgani government and by integrating and incorporating already existing tribal structures. The network also stimulated district and local development structures such as the district development assembly and the community development committee. It was believed that Uruzgani would start supporting their governance system whenever they became familiar with its institutions and learned about its potential. Both the top-down and the bottom-up approach were, however, internationally driven. The disconnect between the interests of Afghan stakeholders and the international governance experts caused difficulties in setting attainable goals and realistic timeframes. This disconnect was further aggravated by the fact that most actors within the network were international. Moreover, there was no overarching interdepartmental strategy for the stabilization of Uruzgan. Both the Dutch military and civilian actors reported through their own channels and levels of command resulting in various flows of information. Such ‘stove-pipe- behaviour’ hampered effective coordination and control of the network

Discussion and Conclusions In this final section we assess the viability of civil-military network on governance in Uruzgan province. The VSM suggests doing this by assessing both the adaptation of the network and the realization of the network´s identity and strategy. The group of functions supporting adaptation consists of policy, intelligence, and control. As our data show, these functions were performed to some extent by the civil-military network itself. The partners, however, neglected to form a collective identity and strategy for the civil-military network. The military and civilian network partners had different strategies and ways of achieving them. The military and civil leadership of the TFU tried to fill this gap by drafting the UCP. However, as many civilian

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partners such as NGOs and the Afghan authorities were only marginally included in the drafting process, it did not foster greater collectiveness. Concepts such as good governance and legitimacy are ultimately western constructs and they can only be applied to such an extraordinary setting with full participation and ownership of host nation actors. The functions supporting the realization of the network’s identity and strategy are control, coordination and the primary activities. In the primary activities we identified (QUIPs, long-term development projects and key leader engagement) civil-military cooperation occurred frequently. However, there was hardly any interaction between the different primary activities. Coordination was impeded by, for example, the lack of information exchange. Finally, control had the difficult task of deriving operational goals from the civil-military identity and strategy for the primary activities. We conclude that whereas cooperation did occur, the civil-military network concerned with governance was only viable to a limited extent. Complexity was not distributed among the participants of the civil-military network. As a consequence, it was distributed among the participants of a collection of autonomous primary activities. At this level, civilian and military partners had to cope with the complexity on their own. All the above described findings not only illustrate the viability of the civil military network as such but they also indicate a more general phenomenon, namely the operalization of the comprehensive approach. The difficulties with the operationalization of the comprehensive approach in the field due to intangible goals and lack of a strategic guidance have not only been problematic for the Dutch. In other nations that have deployed troops to Afghanistan and have used the comprehensive approach as a foundation for their efforts, the (lack of ) strategy and goals is also subject to debate (Rathmell, 2009). An important factor contributing to this trend is the growing imbalance of foreign policy resources among the relevant bureaucracies. The agencies that command significant resources – in this case the military – often dictate the policy planning process. Strategies and plans emanate from the actions these agencies have taken, like for example the campaign plans from TFU in Afghanistan. These plans were invented and produced in theatre rather than in the capital, The Hague. This creates path dependencies and lock-ins from which planning units may never escape (Drezner, 2009). The lack of a comprehensive strategy amongst nations who have deployed troops to Afghanistan and its impact on the operationalization of the comprehensive approach is in need of further investigation. Cross-case comparison could contribute to further insights in this matter.

Notes 1 Hamelink, Ron (2009) Questionnaire and interviewed by Mirjam Grandia. Bavel, 30 March 2009.

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2 Blankenberg, Hans (2011) Former Chef de Poste Netherlands Embassy Kabul Afghanistan (2007-2009). E-mail interview by Mirjam Grandia. Breda, 13 February 2011. 3 Rietdijk, Wilfried (2009) Questionnaire and interviewed by Mirjam Grandia, The Hague, 10 March 2009. 4 Hamelink, Ron (2011) Interviewed by Mirjam Grandia. Breda-The Hague, March 2011 5 Available at: http://www.reliefweb.int/rw/rwb.nsf/db900SID/RMOI-7RVHZG? Open Document (Accessed on 26 October 2010). 6 Based on various interviews held by Mirjam Grandia with PRT commanders (rotation 1-6) in 2009. 7 Wijnands, Joep (2011) Former first Civilian PRT Director and CivRep, TFU 6. Interviewed by phone by Mirjam Grandia, Vilnius-Breda, 7 March 2011.

References Beer, S. (1995) The heart of enterprise. Chichester: John Wiley & Sons. Beeres, R. and Van Fenema, P.C. (2008) Assessing Civil-Military Performance: Toward a Research Agenda. In: Rietjens, S.J.H. and Bollen, M.T.I.B. (eds.) Managing CivilMilitary Cooperation: A 24/7 joint effort for stability. Aldershot: Ashgate, 167-178. Bollen, M.T.I.B. (2008) Refugees in Albania: A Case of Civil-Military Cooperation. In: Rietjens, S.J.H. and Bollen, M.T.I.B. (eds.) Managing Civil-Military Cooperation: A 24/7 joint effort for stability. Aldershot: Ashgate, 51-66. Betts, R.K. (2001) The Trouble with Strategy: Bridging Policy and Operations. Joint Force Quarterly 29 (Autumn/Winter), 23-29. Bollen, M.T.I.B. (2002) Working Apart Together. Civil-military cooperation during humanitarian operations. Breda: Netherlands Defense Academy. Bollen, M.T.I.B. (2008) Refugees in Albania: A Case of Civil-Military Cooperation. In: Rietjens, S.J.H. and Bollen, M.T.I.B. (eds.) Managing Civil-Military Cooperation: A 24/7 joint effort for stability. Aldershot: Ashgate, 51-66. Bot, B. (2006). The Dutch Approach: Preserving the trinity of politics, security and development. Speech at the SID and NCDO Conference on Security and Development. Available at: http://cicam.ruhosting.nl/teksten/act.07.grotenhuis.speech%20minister%20bot.pdf Drezner, D.W. (2009) The Challeging Future of Strategic Planning”. In: The Fletcher Forum of World Affairs 33(1), 13-26. Grandia, M. (2009) The 3D approach and counterinsurgency: A mix of defence, diplomacy and development, The case of Uruzgan. Leiden: University of Leiden. Hilhorst, D. (2008) Understanding and Guiding Reconstruction Processes. In: Rietjens, S.J.H. and Bollen, M.T.I.B. (eds.) Managing Civil-Military Cooperation: A 24/7 joint effort for stability. Aldershot: Ashgate, 111-121. Koenders (2007) Speech at the Johns Hopkins University, Washington. Available at: http:// www.minbuza.nl/nl/actueel/speeches,2007/10/Toespraak-Koenders-op-de-HopkinsUniversity.html.

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Letter to Parliament 193 (2005) Dossiernr 27925, Bestrijding Internationaal Terrorisme, Brief van de ministers van Buitenlandse Zaken, Van Defensie en Ontwikkelingssamenwerking, Den Haag, vergaderjaar 2005-2006 (In Dutch). Letter to Parliament 357 (2009) Dossiernr 27925, Bestrijding Internationaal Terrorisme, Brief van de ministers van Buitenlandse Zaken, Van Defensie en Ontwikkelingssamenwerking, Den Haag, vergaderjaar 2008-2009 (In Dutch). Letter to Parliament 330 (2009) Dossier nr 27925, Bestrijding Internationaal Terrorisme, Brief van de ministers van Buitenlandse Zaken, Van Defensie en Ontwikkelingssamenwerking, Den Haag, vergaderjaar 2008-2009 (In Dutch). Nixon, H. (2008) The changing face of local governance? Community Development Councils in Afghanistan. Kabul: Afghanistan Research and Evaluation Unit. Rathmell, A. (2009) Adapting Government for Stabilisation and Counter Insurgency Operations. The RUSI Journal 154(6), 8-13. Rietjens, S.J.H. and M.T.I.B. Bollen (eds.) (2008). Managing Civil-Military Cooperation: A 24/7joint effort for stability. Aldershot: Ashgate. Rietjens, S. (2011) Between expectations and reality: The Dutch engagement in Uruzgan. In: Hynek, N. and Marton. P. (eds.) NATO’s provincial reconstruction in a comparative perspective. London: Routledge, 65-79. Shafer, M.D. (1988) The Unlearned Lessons of Counterinsurgency”. Political Science Quarterly 103(1), 57-80. Task Force Uruzgan (2008) Focal paper: Foundations for the Future. Task Force Uruzgan (2009) Uruzgan Campaign Plan 2010. TLO (2010) The Dutch Engagement in Uruzgan: 2006-2010, A TLO socio-political assessment. Kabul: The Liaison Office. Van Bemmel, N. and Eikelboom, A. (2010) Comprehensively Planning in Uruzgan. Paper presented at the 15th International Command and Control Research and Technology Symposium, Santa Monica, California, United States.

17

Task Force Uruzgan and experimentation with organization design Eric-Hans Kramer, Erik De Waard and Miriam de Graaff

Introduction The Netherlands Armed Forces aims to be a versatile expeditionary force. The label ‘expeditionary’ refers to the fact that the Netherlands Armed Forces intends to deploy organizational units all over the globe for all kinds of crisis response operations. In the last two decades the Netherlands Armed Forces has sent various configurations of army, air force, navy, and military police units to countries such as Bosnia, Eritrea, Iraq, and Afghanistan. The ambition to be expeditionary creates a specific organizational challenge. To be specific, because of the uniqueness of each crisis response mission there are no suitable crisis response units readily available in the parent organization. Instead, for every crisis response operation, tailor-made task forces have to be specifically composed from existing organizational building blocks of the Netherlands Armed Forces. This chapter focuses on Task Force Uruzgan (TFU) and the way in which it dealt with its ad hoc structural design. It is well established in organizational theory that the individual behaviour of people is influenced by the structural characteristics of the system they are part of (Giddens, 1986). Based on this assumption, this chapter looks at TFU’s approach of ‘blending’ mutually unfamiliar building blocks into a workable operational military unit. Practical experiences indicate that within TFU, platoons and sections were mixed and matched into tailor-made tactical formations to perform a variety of everyday operational tasks, such as conducting reconstruction, reconnaissance, or combat patrols. Since the process of reconfiguring units into alternative structures continued even during actual deployment, we believe that the operational level is especially interesting to concentrate on. More particularly, the aim of this chapter is twofold. The first goal is to unravel the interrelationship between TFU’s operational units in their everyday functioning. The second goal is to connect the specific characteristics of these cooperative relations to the overarching task force and organizational design. This objective has resulted in the following central question:

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In what different ways are everyday operations of TFU-units influenced by (1) the design of the expeditionary task force and (2) the overall design of the Netherlands Armed Forces? Although we focus on Mission Uruzgan, we believe the findings are significant beyond this mission. Other expeditionary missions, in which the Netherlands Armed Forces have been deployed or will be deployed, differed and will differ significantly in many ways (e.g., different goals, mandates and organizational compositions). Yet, there are also two crucial similarities between all expeditionary crisis response missions: (1) in every mission the issue of dealing with dynamic complexity is paramount (2) in every mission the expeditionary unit deployed is tailored for its specific task. Because of these abstract similarities between missions it is possible to generalize findings from this case-study to other missions. The analysis in this chapter is based on a secondary analysis of empirical material that focuses on TFU1 and TFU2. In total, 22 servicemen were interviewed. Originally, the interviews focused on the cooperative relations within the functionally grouped task force. However, during the interviewing process the interviewers also touched upon the influence of organizational design. This emerging aspect made the data set suitable for a secondary analysis from a structural design perspective.

A dilemma of flexibility Given the unique character of crisis response operations and the strategic intent to contribute to such missions on a continuous basis, the Netherlands Armed Forces finds itself confronted with a flexibility dilemma (De Waard and Kramer, 2008). On the one hand the organization needs ‘composition flexibility’, meaning that it has to be capable of deploying task forces of different sizes, composed of different units, to different parts of the world in order to perform a variety of tasks. On the other hand, the organization also needs ‘operational flexibility’. This refers to the fact that a task force deployed has to deal with a dynamically complex task environment (Kramer, 2007). That is to say, a task force is most likely to operate in an environment in which it is confronted with uncertain and ambiguous inputs, and with other intelligent actors that actively aim to undermine its goals. Consequently, a task force should work as a well-oiled machine and be able to fluently adapt and remain adaptable to local conditions. Weick’s (1993) study of the Mann Gulch firefighters illustrates how difficult it is to build an effective, newly established team that is able to deal with complex environments. The two types of flexibility put contrary demands on the armed forces organization (De Waard and Kramer, 2010). If the Netherlands Armed Forces only needs to address the issue of composition flexibility, it would be sensible to aim for a platform organization that is built up of a large number of small, specialized units. This approach creates the opportunity to tailor a taskforce for each specific crisis

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situation. Opposed to that, if the Netherlands Armed Forces was only confronted with the demand of operational flexibility, it would be sensible to design a parent organization built up of a limited number of autonomous modules that could be deployed integrally for a specific operation. These integrally designed taskforces are in a better position to deal with the challenges of a dynamically complex environment. Because they are integral units, the preconditions for developing effective ways to coordinate and control their different sub-units, for example by creating an effective system of decentralization, are far better. However, given the uniqueness of crisis response missions it is next to impossible to design such integral units. An additional question this raises is whether the dilemma of flexibility is fundamentally unavoidable or a practical consequence of deliberate organizational design choices of the Netherlands Armed Forces. Kramer (2007) states that a certain level of mixing and matching units will inherently occur, given the diversity of crisis situations. In this sense, the dilemma of flexibility is existential. At the same time, however, it is not completely impossible to find a basic organizational design that minimizes the reconfiguration necessity. De Waard (2010) refers to the potential of modular design to establish such a structure. He explains that a modular organization is designed in such a way that its organizational building blocks have the capacity to function autonomously. These rather independent units can be loosely coupled with the partnering units within an overarching task force design. This organizational approach could help solve the dilemma of flexibility, because an organization can be built for a specific mission with basic building blocks that function as integral units. Note that this would only be possible if these autonomous units exist as such within the parent organization (De Waard and Kramer, 2008). However, at this moment the Netherlands Armed Forces follow a different path. Often a task force deployed has a design, similar to the overarching design of the parent organization. Concentrating on the army, as the largest contributor of troops for TFU, the following picture emerges. As a rule, the army’s existing functional clusters (three manoeuvre brigades, one combat support brigade, one logistical brigade, a battalion-size special forces unit, and a command element grouped in a high readiness headquarters) have to be broken up and merged into alternative configurations in order to create an expeditionary task force that possesses all the functionalities needed. Figure 17.1 shows the result of this reconfiguration process in which the operational units consist of fragments that were brought together for the purpose of an expeditionary mission. It shows the actual units that were selected from the parent organization for TFU-1. Experience has shown that this assembly process produces an effect on the everyday functioning of a task force in a mission area. For example, Kramer (2007) shows that during UPROFOR, mission units went through a redesign process and that during the SFOR mission it even happened that within the Dutch Area of Responsibility different commanders chose locally different ‘design solutions’ depending on local conditions and personal preferences of a commander. These were, however, onceonly, non-formalized redesign-efforts. Basically a suitable tactical design was

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Figure 17.1 Composing a tailor made expeditionary task force (TFU 1)

PRT: Provincial Reconstruction Team ISTAR: Intelligence, Surveillance, Target Acquisition, and Reconnaissance SOF: Special Operation Forces

chosen by a commander in charge that, apart from a little tinkering, remained stable for six months until the next rotation arrived. A second example relates to the SFIR mission in Iraq. During the course of this deployment command and control elements were significantly changed. The SFIR mission made clear that for complex composite task forces the organization had to deploy additional staff capacity to take on the task of coordinating the different functional organizational elements. Initially this task was appointed to the battalion commander and his staff, as head of the largest unit deployed. The battalion commander, however, became so busy with this coordinating task that he was hampered in his main task of commanding his own battalion. During later rotations the organization, therefore, decided to also deploy a dedicated command and control element, comparable with a traditional brigade-staff, to take over this coordinating role (De Waard, 2010; Kramer, 2009). Referring to the examples above, TFU was special. We know of no example in which the issue of tactical redesign almost became common practice. This implies that because of the platform organization being fundamentally unable to provide the proper building blocks, the reorganization process at the tactical level of an expeditionary task force is actually a consequence of the nature of the platform organization. This provides – at least in theory – an answer to the question of how the nature of the parent organization influences the functioning of an expeditionary military formation. In the following analysis of TFU we will focus on how this relationship between parent and temporary organization can be unravelled more profoundly, using mission-specific empirical evidence.

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Mission Uruzgan The Uruzgan mission strongly depended upon the idea of Provincial Reconstruction Teams (PRTs). PRT mission teams of civilian and military specialists had to establish diplomatic relations with local people and authorities in the Uruzgan province to discuss security and developmental issues. Based on these talks reconstruction tasks could be set in motion. These teams, however, could only properly perform their job in a secure environment. Therefore, a large number of combat troops were also needed to take on the security task of protecting the Afghan local population and of securing the PRT mission teams at work. This task setting of combining security and reconstruction tasks was relatively new to the Netherlands armed forces. So, because no ready-made organizational elements were available in the parent organization, a customized task force had to be formed: Task Force Uruzgan (see Figure 17.2). Figure 17.2 The composition of TFU-1

The core operational unit: the Smallest Unit of Action

One salient feature of TFU was the formation of customized tactical units, labelled Smallest Unit of Action (SUA). In a later stage of the mission, these units were renamed Combined Arms Teams (CAT). In this chapter we stick to the name SUA because that was the name used during the first phase of the mission and was, therefore, specifically mentioned in the interviews. By grouping different specialists into a single unit, a SUA is in essence a classical socio-technical design solution to enhance the capabilities for self-organization at the frontline of the organization (Morgan, 1997; Kuipers et al., 2010). This design solution is especially interesting because it is in contrast with the design principles of the overarching parent organization. As mentioned previously, the Army is functionally grouped. The development of the SUA in Uruzgan shows that within volatile mission contexts the functional structure is abandoned at the tactical level and replaced by a more organic grouping philosophy. Since a SUA is not a fixed unit, specifying the elements would not provide a closer approximation of the reality of a SUA. Actually, from a design perspective the changeable character is one of the most elementary principles of a SUA. The elements of a SUA are drawn from different parts of the task force above. By mixing parts of these parts, a SUA is formed that is tailored for a specific tactical assignment. A SUA, therefore, is a one-task-only unit. Generally, a SUA would at least consist of a combat unit to provide security. It may also possess a PRT element if

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the SUA’s assignment was to conduct reconstruction related tasks. Furthermore, a necessary mix of combat support units was added to support both the combat forces and PRT specialists in doing their work. To be more precise, one could think of engineers, medics, psychological warfare personnel, and forward air controllers. However, not every available unit had to be used for an assignment. Sometimes just a few and sometimes almost all were needed. This refers to the basic principle of the SUA concept of allowing the overarching task force to tailor tactical units to their specific task environment. It is therefore a further example of a design aiming to optimize composition flexibility, or the ability to select, combine and decouple elements for specific purposes. It also teaches us that the process of forming customized units continues even after an expeditionary task force has been deployed (i.e., the process of composing units proceeds beyond the design of the expeditionary task force). This basically results in a deployment approach following a chain of composition that runs like this: platform-organization  expeditionary task force  Smallest Unit of Action. The chain indicates that the degree of necessary redesign is such that for every single patrol in Uruzgan a new unit had to be designed. So, a SUA does not refer to one particular fixed unit. Its changeability is – in a sense – one of the main reasons why the SUA-concept has been developed in the first place. All in all, we have found three reasons why the exact composition of a SUA could differ: 1. different patrols required different configurations. There were different reasons why a patrol could be considered necessary in the Area of Operations. Some patrols were more focused on the security issues (basically chasing Taliban), while other patrols were more focused on reconstruction activities. Depending on the goal of the patrol, a SUA required a different composition of components. 2. different patrols required different sizes. From the first reason it follows that because SUAs demanded different compositions, they could also vary in size. Generally speaking the size of a SUA could reach from 35 to 100 people. 3. different basic building blocks had different rotation-periods. Another source of variety of SUAs was related to different rotation-periods of PRT specialists and combat troops. This led to a periodic loss of expertise, which influenced the composition possibilities of a SUA. For example, when the combat troops left, their replacements needed time to build up situational awareness. As a result, complex, composite PRT assignments were put on hold for a while.

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How is the everyday functioning of TFU influenced by the design of the expeditionary taskforce? In this section we focus on how the SUAs actually functioned in Uruzgan. We will relate this everyday functioning of SUAs to their design-characteristics. We distinguish between three organizational issues with which members within a SUA had to deal. These will be subsequently discussed below.

Dealing with the issue of forming units

Given the fact that a SUA did not have a fixed composition, units had to be formed prior to their task assignment. That means that before a SUA could be deployed a complex process of composing was started. At task force level, staff officers monthly made a rough planning of how many SUAs would be available in a given week. Commanders of the PRT mission teams communicated their wishes in advance (e.g., how many patrols, to which areas) to their staff officers. This rough planning was then worked out into a more detailed planning for the coming week. However, this formal planning process was most of the time not met in practice. In many cases the actual SUA-commander (always an officer from a combat unit) had crucial, last minute influence on the composition and goals of a SUA. It could be the case that for tactical reasons the wishes communicated by the PRT mission team commanders were not (fully) taken into account. What initially complicated the establishment of a SUA was that the designated areas of responsibility (AOR) of the combat units and the PRT mission teams differed. As a result, each time a PRT mission team went to another part of its AOR it was confronted with a new supporting combat unit. Due to the coordination difficulties this situation caused, the AORs were later synchronized during the mission. This adjustment was to a large extent based on a mutual preference of staff officers and SUA personnel to build a SUA, as much as possible, with units that knew each other. After all, because of their repetitive character, constructing relatively stable formations eased cooperation between the participating units. Despite this wish, providing such stability remained difficult throughout the mission because some functional specialists (e.g. medics and engineers) were a scarce resource and therefore needed in all SUA assignments. In other words, they could not deliver dedicated services to a specific combat or PRT unit but had to participate in whatever unit they were needed in. From an organizational design perspective, the SUA-concept relates to Morgan’s (1997) idea of ‘the whole in the parts’. The whole of TFU’s available functionalities was recreated in a smaller SUA setting, by mixing and matching different specialists and functional units. There is a straightforward reason why this design solution was considered necessary in Uruzgan. Given the nature of the available building blocks and given the nature of the operational environment, there really was little that individual units could do on their own in the operational environment. This, of course, goes without saying for combat support units. By their very nature such

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units are linked to an operational core. However, also a core unit such as a PRT mission team could not operate on its own, because of its inability to provide the security needed. As such they always had to call upon combat forces for their own protection. Opposed to that, a combat unit could sometimes operate on its own, especially during periods of hostile Taliban activity. However, nation building was the mission’s overall goal, and the reconstruction activities that were needed to get Afghanistan as a country back on its feet, could not be delegated to combat forces. They simply lacked the expertise. Therefore, ‘creating the whole in the parts’ became a natural consequence of the mission’s multifaceted goals.

Dealing with a turbulent environment

It will be clear by now that the way in which operational units were composed was related to the dynamics of TFU’s operational environment. The previous section already indicated that there was a fundamental strategic ambiguity regarding the Uruzgan Mission (‘is this a combat or a reconstruction mission?’). Publicly, Mission Uruzgan was sold as a reconstruction mission. Yet, quite a lot of fighting had to take place before reconstruction activities could actually be set in motion. Reconstruction and combat being two seemingly contradictory activities were altogether very much related and in close proximity in the Uruzgan-context. To a significant degree, the operational units themselves resolved the strategic ambiguity surrounding the mission by pragmatically forming customized SUAs. This shows that the actual organizational design was very much the result of a bottom up organizing process: what do we encounter in the operational environment and how do we organizationally deal with that? Basically, SUAs were the practical answer to the latent dilemma of simultaneously pursuing reconstruction and combat goals. In many ways, this is a logical consequence of operating in an uncertain and dynamically complex environment. After all, previous to the deployment of the Dutch troops the Afghan province Uruzgan was basically a white spot on the map. Furthermore, during deployment the local circumstances proved to be very changeable; the force of the Taliban opposition could vary significantly. Operational units were often the first to experience changes in the environment and acted therefore in a general sense as explorers. With this in mind, it is quite impossible to design an organization in a ‘one-shot design effort’ that can deal with all current and future – as yet unknown – contingencies. In the case of Uruzgan it was far more important to develop an organizational system with a sufficient level of built-in flexibility. In a practical sense this resulted in a situation in which the operational units reconfigured themselves to match environmental contingencies. As such, the SUA-concept is a very direct translation of Ashby’s law of requisite variety (Ashby, 1969). This law states that for a system to survive, its internal capacities to absorb and process information must match the level of complexity in the external environment. So an environment that confronts a system with contradictory demands (rebuilding and fighting), need to be matched with a system that can match this (grouping together different specialists).

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Cooperative relations within a SUA

The grouping together of different specialists in changing, not standard SUA-configurations puts strain on the cooperative relations. Furthermore, if the SUA’s task setting, and thus its identity, is ambiguous, chances are that group dynamics will play a major role. The unclear design responsibility for SUAs was an important trigger of unexpected group processes. Above, it was explained that in a formal sense SUAs were designed by TFU’s central staff element. However, one SUA-commander – as a member of the leading combat unit – told us that supporting units had to prepare a ‘sales pitch’ and based on their force of persuasion he decided to take them along or not. In this respect he refers to a conflict with a PsyOps unit that was kept out of most SUAs, because this unit waited to be asked instead of actively promoting its own added value. The same SUA commander explained this sales pitch to be important to convince the combat troops, who risk their lives for the others, of the military professionalism of the supporting units. The PRT representatives were not very pleased with this dominant role of the combat forces. One PRT-commander argued that if the combat and PRT tasks were allocated within separate autonomous units they would go in opposite directions: the combat unit would go after the Taliban, while the PRT unit would focus on rebuilding activities in safer areas. Due to this fragile relationship between combat and PRT elements, a staff officer mentioned, furthermore, that they deliberately tried to ‘match personalities’: if the commander of a combat unit was considered dominant, they would try to match him with an independently thinking PRT mission team commander. The difficulty of developing a team spirit, given the changeable character of a SUA, was another topic frequently brought forward. One typical issue worth mentioning is the difference between the central military base ‘Camp Holland’ and the smaller outpost in Deh Rawod. Several respondents indicated that in Deh Rawod the cooperative relations between combat, PRT and other supporting units were much better than at Camp Holland. Some believed this to be related to Camp Holland’s size. With many different functional units working and living there, the distance between units, both literally and figuratively speaking, was much larger than in Deh Rawod.

What are the design principles of the SUAs and how do they relate to the design principles of the Dutch Armed Forces? Previously it was argued that the Netherlands Armed Forces has a predominantly functional design. Knowing this, a SUA could be perceived as a design solution that is in essence classic socio-technical, because it groups together different specialists in one operational unit. One could also hypothesize that this contrast between the

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parent organization and the SUA carries some inherent difficulties. After all, a SUA does not follow the same design rules as the parent organization, and subsequently working in such units requires skills that are not normally trained or stimulated. In this paragraph we will discuss the design principles of the SUAs in greater detail and relate these to the design principles of the Netherlands Armed Forces in general. We provide a more detailed analysis of the underlying design principles of the SUA-concept. This can be done by using Morgan’s (1997) ‘holographic principles’. Regarding these principles Morgan (1997: 100-101) states: ‘The metaphor of the hologram invites us to think of systems where qualities of the whole are enfolded in all the parts so that the system has an ability to self-organize and regenerate itself on a continuous basis. (…) They would, in short, be intelligent, self-organizing brains that reflect all the qualities of what we have described as a learning organization’. We will use five principles of holographic design that Morgan describes – the design principles originate in Herbst (1974) – and apply them to the SUAconcept. We will, furthermore, discuss to what degree each principle is recognizable in the design of the SUAs and subsequently to what degree the use of each principle implies a departure from the design of the parent organization and the consequences of this departure: –– Requisite variety. This principle refers to the ability of a unit to deal with the variety of its environment. Morgan (1997: 112) formulates this principle as follows: ‘the internal diversity of any self-regulating unit must match the variety and complexity of its environment if it is to deal with the challenges posed by this environment.’ One of the most salient aspects of the TFU case regarding requisite variety and the design of the platform organization is that many of the competences needed were not available in the overarching military organization. Cultural and political advisors, aid workers, agricultural specialists, jurists, veterinarians etc. were of crucial importance for certain reconstruction activities, but could, of course, not be found in the military organization. As a result, all kinds of ad hoc coalitions had to be formed with partners from outside the military organization. A remarkable situation occurred: PRTs were appointed a central role within TFU’s task setting; yet, actual PRT-units were non-existing as such within the military platform organization. The platform organization aims to be capable of supplying the proper units for traditional combat tasks, but for the Uruzgan mission it was far less capable of dealing with the requisite variety of a counter-insurgency (COIN) operation. –– Create the whole in the parts. According to Morgan, holographic design moves in a contrary direction compared to the old, mechanistic design principles. Under the old and mechanistic principles, processes were fragmented into very small jobs, which were again linked through means of coordination. Instead, the holographic design philosophy designs jobs holistically: ‘The basic unit of design is a work team that is made responsible for a complete business process’ (Morgan, 1997: 106). One can clearly

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see this strategy returning in the SUA-concept: there might have been separate combat units and reconstruction units to begin with, but the SUA really tried to group these units together around a specific organizational process that was considered most relevant for the mission context. It is important, however, to note that the SUA groups together units that are inherently contradictory. Combat units may deliberately be looking for a fight, whereas reconstruction units prefer to operate within a safe environment. It is, therefore, no surprise that this complex mixture of fundamentally different units could not be found in the platform organization. This creates specific coordination difficulties in its own right. –– Minimal critical specification. This principle refers to the idea that if an organizational system is to be self-organizing it needs autonomy that allows innovation to occur (Morgan, 1997: 114). This principle is clearly recognizable in the SUAs. In fact, because of the previously mentioned ‘strategic ambiguity’ it was very difficult for the organization to centrally define the exact nature of the operation. SUAs were therefore granted autonomy as a basic necessity. One interesting issue to highlight in relation to the design of the parent organization relates to the coordination of the different functional building blocks of a SUA. In the parent organization, this coordination process normally takes place at the brigade staff level. However, the TFU case made clear that the coordination role was claimed by the leading combat unit in a SUA, which did not always go smoothly (see for example ‘the sales pitch’). This shows that the parent organization does not really prepare units for such a decentralized way of operating. –– Redundancy. This principle refers to the need for a certain kind of excess capacity that can create room for anticipation and innovation. Morgan (1997: 108) refers to the importance of acquiring multiple skills so that members of a self-organizing group are able to perform each other’s job and substitute if the need arises. Interestingly, this is one principle of holographic design that was not incorporated within the SUA-concept. SUAs basically grouped different specialists together, that were expected to stick to their speciality. One aspect of the everyday functioning of SUAs clearly demonstrate this issue: some specializations were considered scarce resources – such as military engineers and medics. As a consequence these units were constantly on patrol, which led to the potential danger of these soldiers becoming overstressed. In a general sense, the fact that the SUAs did not live by the redundancy principle made them more vulnerable as self-organizing unit. To a large extent they lost the ability to substitute. Another consequence is that for cooperation to really develop within a SUA, it is important that members possess a certain insight into the work of the other specialists. Frequently it was mentioned in the interviews that for effective coordination to develop, combat soldiers had to understand the way of thinking of the PRT-officers and the other way around. The

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functional design of the parent organization hampered the development of such understanding. –– Double loop learning. Morgan (1997: 115) explains this principle as follows: ‘Continuous self-organization requires a capacity for double loop learning that allows the operating norms and rules of a system to change along with transformations in the wider environments.’ There is one very clear way in which this principle was recognizable in the Uruzgan-case: the operational units needed the ability to redesign themselves to match environmental contingencies. There was also, however, a way in which the SUA’s capabilities for double loop learning were challenged. After all, they could only shuffle with the building blocks they possessed. Self-organization essentially remained limited to changing the configuration of the building blocks. The composition of the building blocks themselves remained untouched. Also this is a limitation on self-organization that relates to the nature of the parent organization (see the previous principle about the requisite variety of a COIN-strategy as compared to the requisite variety of a traditional conflict). The previous discussion, basically, covers the second research question. Indeed, the SUA can be interpreted as an attempt by TFU to create self-organizing operational units. At the same time it shows that the design principles for creating self-organizing units are to a certain extent in contrast with the design principles of the Netherlands Armed Forces as a whole. This is an interesting conclusion because it makes clear that during missions principles of organizing are used that are not supported or facilitated by the overarching parent organization, subsequently leading to all kinds of organizational problems at the frontline of the organization.

Strategic ambiguity and counter-insurgency tactics The previous discussion focused on the SUA and its organizational characteristics. In order to understand the SUA even better it is important to widen our perspective and to take the strategic context of the SUA into account. As we have frequently emphasized in the previous analysis, there was a kind of strategic ambiguity surrounding the mission: was it a combat or a reconstruction mission? Classifying the Uruzgan mission as a typical counter-insurgency operation and acting accordingly, would according to Dimitriu and De Graaf (2010) be helpful in dealing with the ambiguous strategic context. This, however, sheds a different light on the SUA approach. In the political realm, Mission Uruzgan was initially categorized as a reconstruction mission, leading to criticism from the opposition in the Dutch parliament when it became apparent that combat actions were more necessary than expected beforehand. Dimitriu and De Graaf (2010: 433) conclude that the label ‘counter-

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insurgency mission’ would have been a more suitable categorization because it acknowledges the military, policing, administrative as well as developmental aspects of the operation. A COIN operation is according to the Dutch military doctrine: ‘the totality of military, paramilitary, political, economic, psychological and civil activities undertaken to combat an insurgency’ (Koninklijke Landmacht, 2007). In general, COIN operations aim for two main goals; first to evoke support from the domestic population by gaining their trust, second to injure the morale of the insurgents (Amersfoort and De Moor, 2003). COIN is not a new kind of military operation; already at the end of the Colonial Days of the European countries, British and Dutch soldiers carried out these kinds of missions. However, an important difference between the classical counterinsurgency operations of those days and of contemporary military mission can be found in the insurgents. In contemporary counterinsurgency the military is confronted with an un-united front, since the insurgencies include many diffuse and competing movements, whereas in classical counterinsurgency the insurgents are one group of revolutionaries with a shared goal and shared interests (Kilcullen, 2006). This difference requires a new approach. Specifically for the Uruzgan context, Dimitriu and De Graaf emphasize that the enemy is fluid. This conceptualization leads to the following conclusion about ‘the insurgents’. ‘It is like water, if you don’t stay, it streams back’ (Dimitriu and De Graaf, 2010: 439). In other words, whenever the Dutch troops performed a clearing operation, the Taliban simply withdrew to return once the troops had left the area again. Essential in a counter-insurgency strategy is therefore a shape-clearhold-build strategy. For this strategy to work, however, the troops should stay for a longer period of time in a disputed area, for reconstruction activities to take root and develop further. Dimitriu and De Graaf (2010: 446) formulate this as follows: ‘With the building of a permanent location, the troops convey the message that they are there for the long haul. Units should live in their area of operations rather than merely visiting it. They are sooner perceived by the local population to be reliable and as a result they more quickly gain legitimacy’. These reflections on COIN-strategies relate in two major ways to our discussion on SUAs. To start with, it shows that the strategic ambiguity at the onset of the mission (reconstruction versus combat) was discussed within the Dutch parliament but not resolved. What our case-discussion shows is that if these issues are not solved at higher hierarchical levels, the issue will be dealt with – be it pragmatically and temporarily – at the operational level. The second point regards the criticism of Dimitriu and De Graaf that in order for a COIN-strategy to work a different way of deploying the Dutch units would have been necessary (and therefore also a different way of structuring the organization). In theory we agree with this observation, and it is in line with the observations made by our interviewees. If an organization is a tool to establish goals, such a COIN-concept based on far-reaching decentralization would have required quite a different organization, in which a SUA-concept would quite likely not have been relevant. The main problem with this COIN strategy of deploying troops throughout the area of operations within small local communities

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would have required many, many more ‘boots on the ground’. This practical limitation is indeed acknowledged by Dimitriu and De Graaf (2010: 441).

Reflection: balancing top-down and bottom-up design The activity of designing SUAs during TFU1 and TFU2 provides insight into a central theme in organizational theory: should organizational design for dynamically complex environments be a top-down activity or should bottom up processes create the design for organizations? The SUA-case provides specific answer to that issue: it displays both crucial bottom-up and top-down design characteristics. On the one hand, the actual design of the SUAs for a specific patrol was pretty much determined bottom-up, by SUA commanders and the staff officers. As we have argued, the design actually reflected a priority given to either reconstruction or combat. In such a way, the design of the expeditionary organization was in the time period that we have studied to a large degree developed from the bottom-up. On the other hand, the nature of the building blocks that were the backbone of a SUA were very much the consequence of top-down design decisions. The way this design from the bottom-up actually works can be illustrated by a metaphor that is explicated by Karl Weick (2001). The metaphor of the improvisational theater is used by Weick to capture the ‘fleeting’ within organizations and the processes necessary for continuous redesign. The metaphor of improvisational theatre ‘include[s] such ideas as redesign is a continuous activity, responsibility for the initiation of redesign is dispersed, interpretation is the essence of design, resourcefulness is more crucial than resources, the meaning of an action is usually known after the fact, and a little structure goes a long way’ (Weick, 2001: 58). The ‘design’ Weick aims to capture with this metaphor is a pattern of (inter)action that is bottom-up realized as a result of enacting ‘the unknown’. This kind of ‘improvisational design’ seems to capture many of the organizing processes surrounding the SUAs pretty well. This kind of designing (a verb) is contrasted by Weick with the creation of a top design (a noun), which is captured by the architectural metaphor. Weick states on the architectural design metaphor (2001: 57): ‘Organizational design modelled along the lines of architectural design is viewed as a bounded activity that occurs at a fixed point in time. The activity is largely decision making, concentrated in a small group, which translates intention into plans. The plans are based on assumptions of ideal conditions and envision structures rather than processes. The structures are assumed to be stable solutions to a set of current problems that will change only incrementally’.Weick (2001: 60) claims that one of the problems of the architectural metaphor is its limited relevance: ‘one-time design strategies make sense if the environment is basically placid, but continuous redesign is necessary when the

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environment becomes turbulent.’ With an ‘architectural mind’ one is blind to the processes necessary for this continuous redesign. The contradiction between metaphors as it is sketched by Weick is essentially a difference between ‘totalitarian design’ and ‘non-design’. After all, the bottomup, improvisational variant of organizational design features no actual ‘all knowing’ central designer. Improvisational design as described here by Weick is essentially an emergent structure that has grown out of local interactions. The situation in which an architectural central designer is able to ‘fix’ organizational life by means of charts and procedures is considered by Weick to be limited to situations in which an environment is basically placid. The local interactions that resulted in a design of a SUA confirmed that it is impossible to design an expeditionary organization topdown, and that in a turbulent environment bottom-up improvisational processes determined to a great extent the actual design (and identity!) of the expeditionary organization. However, the SUA-case shows that the design of the SUAs was not ‘totalitarian bottom-up’ either. That is to say, more processes contributed to the design of SUAs than mere bottom-up local interactions. This is illustrated by the answer to the second research question. Many of the top-down decisions that influenced the design of the SUA had been taken decades ago, for example the decision for functional concentration (grouping specialists in a specialist group). Other top-down decisions were made in the more immediate context of the SUAs (the decision to cut the Area of Responsibility (AOR) in parts and to make a particular company consisting of the different specialized units responsible for that particular area). The first is an example of architectural design of the parent organization; the second is an example of an architectural choice made at the level of the expeditionary organization. In fact, many of the ‘principles of holographic design’ contain top-down design elements, being actually top-down design decisions that have the ambition to create sufficient room for improvisation on the operational level. Therefore, both the ideas of totalitarian and non-design do not seem to capture what ‘designing for turbulent conditions’ actually entails. We interpret the holographic design philosophy as an interesting compromise between top-down and bottom-up design activities.

References Amersfoort, H. and De Moor, J.A. (2003) Landmachtgevechtsoperaties, LDP-II deel C, gevechtsoperaties tegen een irregulier optredende tegenstander (Army combat operations. LDPII part C, combat operations against an irregular force). Zwolle, the Netherlands: PlantijnCasparie. Ashby, W.R. (1969) Self-regulation and requisite variety. In: Emery, F. (ed.) Systems thinking. London: Penguin books, 105-124. De Waard, E.J. (2010) Engaging Environmental Turbulence. Organizational Determinants for Repetitive, Quick and Adequate Responses. Rotterdam: ERIM.

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De Waard, E.J. and Kramer, E.H. (2010) Expeditionary operations and modular organization design. In: Soeters, J., Van Fenema, P.C. and Beeres, R. (eds.) Managing military organizations. London: Routledge, 71-83. De Waard, E.J. and Kramer, E.H. (2008) Tailored task forces: Temporary organizations and modularity. International Journal of Project Management 26(5), 537-546. Dimitriu, G. and De Graaf, B. (2010) The Dutch COIN approach: three years in Uruzgan, 2006-2009. Small Wars & Insurgencies 21(3), 429-458. Giddens, A. (1986) Constitution of society: Outline of the theory of structuration, Berkely, CA: University of California Press. Herbst, P.G. (1974) Socio-technical design: strategies in multi-disciplinary research. London: Tavistock publications. Kilcullen, D. (2006) Counterinsurgency Redux. Survival 48(4), 111-130. Koninklijke Landmacht (2007) Informatiebulletin 07/02 van het Opleidings- en Trainings­ centrum Operatiën (OTCOPN). Kramer E.H. (2007) Organizing doubt. Grounded Theory, Army Units and Dealing with dynamic complexity. Copenhagen: Copenhagen Business School Press. Kramer, E.H. (2009) Het werken in samengestelde eenheden (Working in combined taskforces). In: Delahaij, R., Kamphuis, W., Van Bezooijen, B., Vogelaar, A., Kramer, E.H., and Van Fenema, P.C. (eds.) Hinderlaag in Irak. Een sociaalwetenschappelijke analyse (Ambush in Iraq.A social scientific analysis.) Breda: Faculteit Militaire Wetenschappen. Kuipers, H., Van Amelsvoort, P. and Kramer, E.H. (2010) Het nieuwe organiseren. Alternatieven voor de bureaucratie (New organizing. Alternatives to bureaucracy). Leuven: Acco. Morgan, G. (1997) Images of Organization. (New edition). Thousand Oaks: Sage. Weick, K.E. (1993) The Collapse of Sensemaking in Organizations: The Mann Gulch Disaster. Administrative Science Quarterly 38, 628-652. Weick, K.E. (2001) Making sense of the organization. Malden, Ma: Blackwell Business.

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Military engagement in civilian healthcare in Uruzgan An ethical perspective Myriame Bollen, Peter Olsthoorn, Sebastiaan Rietjens and Masood Khalil

Introduction In 2006, the Afghan Research and Evaluation Unit (AREU) reported existing available health services in Afghanistan to exceed services provided at any time in the past. However, this applied mainly to cities and regions where health workers and the population were feeling secure. In Uruzgan, at that time, only half of the facilities planned by the Ministry of Public Health (MoPH) had been established and were functional (AREU, 2006). Four years later, assessing the Dutch engagement in Uruzgan from 2006-2010, The Liaison Office (TLO) found the number of health facilities in Uruzgan to have doubled; partly encompassing unstable areas. Particularly, the upgraded Tarin Kowt hospital and its cooperation with the military hospital is mentioned as an important asset to provincial healthcare (TLO, 2010: 15). Although the additional clinics, staff, resources and capacity building mark improvements in healthcare, such developments foremost benefit Uruzgani living within the Dutch focus districts. Elsewhere, residents still face serious capacity limitations in healthcare and complain about unqualified or absent staff and unavailable medication (TLO, 2010: 16). From the evaluations of both AREU and TLO, a void in the provision of civilian healthcare becomes manifest. Due to the expeditionary nature of their missions, the military are being confronted with the consequences and, although military health care’s primary role is to conserve force strength, activities in the domain of medical assistance to civilians have become a significant component of military operations (Neuhaus, 2008). In fact, over the past decade, the majority of casualties treated by international militaries have been civilian patients. However, as expeditionary missions are conducted temporarily, the provision of military healthcare to civilians is inevitably only for the time being and therefore hardly sustainable.

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Compounding the concerns about reconstruction principles, such as sustainability, operations in Iraq and Afghanistan have created a renaissance of counter-insurgency thinking in which the winning of hearts and minds to increase the legitimacy of the host nation authorities features prominently (Egnell, 2010). When looking at military engagement in civilian healthcare from the perspective of winning hearts and minds of the local population another set of concerns emerges. First, because this concept may be built on false causal assumptions regarding presumed links between stabilization and aid (Wilder, 2008). In reality, there are no indicators in health programmes –and neither in state-building programmes- that show whether or not the provision of improved health services contributes to a population’s willingness to view its government more favourably (Waldman, 2007). Also, although providing healthcare impartially to those in need forms the essence of the Hippocratic oath, it is debated whether medical military staff can avail of the necessary humanitarian expertise to perform this ‘good deed’ in the right way. Moreover, it is argued that in an environment as non-permissive as Uruzgan the military cannot afford to be distracted from obtaining their primary security objectives. As we will see, combining security and healthcare can and will lead to ethical dilemmas. Against this background, this chapter attempts to identify some ethical concerns evoked by military engagement in healthcare reconstruction. By bringing empirical evidence to the ongoing debate in military and development communities we aim to shed some light on the central question if and how, from a military ethical point of view, military should be involved in healthcare reconstruction during stabilization and reconstruction operations in Uruzgan.

Military engagement in healthcare reconstruction; an ethical perspective Most manifestations of military ethics and medical ethics respectively are fairly consistent as to whose interests are most important, though it seems that they point in different directions. If we, for instance, look at the medical oath, we see that the common denominator is that a doctor should work in the interest of his patients. Generally, parties outside the doctor-patient relationship, such as hospitals or governments are not mentioned. In this respect, the military oath differs; as a rule it stresses loyalty to a head of state, constitution, republic or people. The people at the receiving end, for instance, the local population in Uruzgan, are not included. Similarly, the value lists of various armed forces mainly mention values (such as courage, loyalty, discipline, and obedience) that further military effectiveness (Robinson, 2007), whereas the values of the medical profession give precedence to the patient and the doctor-patient relationship. If we, lastly, look at codes of conduct, we find that military codes of conduct are mostly about regulating the conduct of military personnel towards each other, whereas codes of conduct for doctors emphasize the

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patients’ interests. In brief, medical ethics is about patients and medical care, while the gist of the codes, oaths, and values in most militaries mainly pay attention to the organization and colleagues. These two different ethics, medical and military, can – and do – lead to conflicting loyalties in the case of medical professionals in the armed forces, for example when their presence during unlawful interrogation is presented, as in the interest of the detainee. In such cases, ‘military medical personnel are placed in a position of a “dual loyalty” conflict. They have to balance the medical needs of their patients, who happen to be detainees, with their military duty to their employer’ (Clark, 2006: 570). Dilemmas of a different kind arise when, for instance, medical personnel must choose whom to help first: a seriously wounded insurgent or civilian, or a somewhat less seriously wounded colleague. Research into the functioning of Dutch military medical personnel in Afghanistan showed that, although most military medical personnel believed they could deal with moral dilemmas adequately, their actual behaviour in dealing with dilemmas differed very much from person to person – for example, whether or not they should help the local population with medicine earmarked for own military personnel (Meerbach, 2009). Generally, it thus seems that medical personnel facing such dilemmas do make decisions, and can account for these decisions afterwards. Military personnel attach great value to being able to, as they put it, ‘look at yourself in the mirror,’ and most medical workers deployed seem to pass that test. Yet, the question remains whether this specific criterion is any good in these cases, as the decisions made, and the arguments to defend it rendered afterwards, vary greatly from person to person. For instance, the fact that helping locals could undermine the local health system was seen as an important argument contra helping. Others, however, conversely argued, that helping locals increased good-will, and could thus lead to increased information and support from the local population (Meerbach, 2009). Attempting to resolve such tensions of military health professionals, in offering a set of ten guidelines, the International Dual Loyalty Working Group (2002) pleads to prioritize medical ethics over military considerations (i.e., to be loyal to the patient, under all circumstances). The same applies to London et al.’s (2006) plea for a rights based framework, representing ‘a priori moral reasoning that privileges the protection of vulnerable people from state-sponsored harm, no matter the alleged justification,’ and for civilian oversight by means of ‘a commission with membership that includes an adequate number of civilian health professionals skilled in ethical issues and human rights’. Benatar’s and Upshur’s plan (2008) for a ‘totally independent’ medical ethics tribunal to decide on dilemmas that occur boils down to the same thing: deliberations should be guided by the principles of public health issues solely. As such, these solutions are more a denial of the tensions than anything else. Simultaneously, all authors offering guidelines putting medical ethic first are very much in line with the opinion of the World Medical Organization, as laid down in the WMA Regulations in Times of Armed Conflict, holding there is no difference

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between medical ethics in war and in peace. This implies that ‘if, in performing their professional duty, physicians have conflicting loyalties, their primary obligation is to their patients’.1 WMA policy fits the 1977 Geneva Protocol, stipulating that ‘personnel taking care of the wounded shall ignore the nationality or uniform of the person they are taking care of ’ (Protocol I, 1977b, Art. 10, paragraph 453; Gross 2006: 137). Both the WMA and the Geneva protocols seem to pursue a universalistic ethic (Gross, 2006) counting everyone, friend or foe, for the same in a context of violent conflict, where such an all-encompassing ethic proves difficult to live by. It may even be the other way round in the sense that the lack of such an all-encompassing ethic is at the root of war. It is therefore small wonder the WMA standpoint has been rejected as utopian thinking, as Michael Gross does in his Bioethics and Armed Conflict (2006). In war the principle of salvage (i.e., returning as many soldiers to duty as quickly as possible), not medical need, is, and should be, the guiding principle of all medical efforts. This is not only in the best interest of the military as a collective ‘fighting force’, but, ultimately, also in the interest of the survival of the political community it serves. War, hence, transforms medical ethics (Gross, 2006: 324). Due to the shifting nature of warfare, from self-defence to humanitarian interventions, military necessity may come to play a less prominent role, as Gross concedes (Gross, 2006: 330). As things stand, however, whenever military doctors have to choose between their responsibility for their patients and military demands, and given the strong and exclusive emphasis on institutional loyalty in the military, occasionally, their obligations to their patients will be overridden by their sense of military duty (Clark, 2006: 577).

Military engagement in healthcare reconstruction; a developmental and military policy perspective Besides concerns arising from the above-mentioned clash of two major bodies of ethics that may put military medical professionals to the test, both the World Health Organization (WHO) and AREU, in stressing the importance of the longterm nature of reconstructing Afghanistan’s health sector, refer to another set of concerns regarding military engagement in civilian healthcare. As military missions are planned on relatively short time horizons, the military can only provide civilians with temporary health care. Civilian organizations, on the other hand, and especially development organizations, are often to stay in the area for a period of five to ten years. Consequentially, civilian and military organizations face synchronization problems pertaining for instance to the extent of ‘reasonable’ progress during a certain time period (Rietjens, 2008). Besides, military units are primarily responsible for security. Whenever the security situation deteriorates, humanitarian and development reconstruction projects will be abruptly terminated. According to Rubinstein (2009), short-term military reconstruction interventions can be inconsistent with and, even undermine, long-term development.

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Humanitarian and developmental ‘quick impact projects’ undertaken by military units or civil-military hybrids to increase stability and legitimacy in Uruzgan, as well as the acceptance of the international presence, could indeed cause such risks. Although improving humanitarian and development situations is important, it is not the main objective of such hearts and minds activities (Egnell, 2010). In the health sector particularly, short-term engagements should be considered most carefully because improved health outcomes are reversible if access to services is interrupted, unlike for instance, gains in education. Along more or less the same lines, and in addition to the clashing bodies of military and medical ethics, a second concern about military engagement in health reconstruction can be distinguished. The development community strongly voices the conviction that improved health care is an objective in itself worth striving for instead of being a means to achieve political stability (Waldman, 2007). Rubinstein (2009) argues that, by military engagement in healthcare reconstruction, both humanitarian principles as well as principles of (health) reconstruction, such as ownership, sustainability and capacity building risk to be sacrificed to attain military strategic advantages. In line with this argument, it has been indicated by the military that activities benefitting the safety of its own troops often will be favoured over activities aimed at improving grass-root security and reconstruction for the Afghan population (Rietjens et al., 2009). Thirdly, NGOs report services run by or in conjunction with the military in Afghanistan can endanger the population as well as local and international service providers (Rubinstein, 2009; Rietjens and Bollen, 2008). Where insurgents understand a health intervention is designed for strategic purposes, health facilities and workers easily become a target, and the safety of development projects and personnel in the vicinity may be jeopardized (Rubinstein, 2009). In areas where the Taliban are more influential the challenges of implementation exceed the humanitarian and development competence of the military. In the Korengal Valley of Kunar Province, newly-constructed clinics were blown up by insurgents as soon as they were finished (Egnell, 2010). Within the health sector, coordination constitutes a challenge and a fourth concern. Health outcomes are dependent on a range of inputs beyond the jurisdiction of the MoPH, particularly, education, water and sanitation and nutrition, and thus require coordination and cooperation between different parts of government and external institutions; something for which there is typically little incentive, finance or structure to manage (WHO, 2007). At a global level, due to a lack of coordination, aid to fragile states tends to be volatile, because whenever external institutions do engage, they establish parallel systems rather than working through government, which in turn hinders future capacity building (WHO, 2007). Lack of knowledge in both humanitarian and military communities on healthcare seeking behaviour, particularly in remote and rural areas, constitutes a fifth concern. Considering the primary goal of healthcare is to improve the health sta-

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tus of the population, host nation healthcare facilities should be used as much as possible. Geographical and security reasons aside, to date, there exists insufficient knowledge about the considerations and requirements with regard to seeking care outside the home; e.g. the ways in which decisions are made within households; financial concerns and the role and availability of alternative sources such as private providers or traditional healers in the marketplace (AREU, 2006). To address healthcare reconstruction in Uruzgan, or in other areas, such insights seem crucial. Sixth and finally, both within the military and the humanitarian community the utility of military engagement in humanitarian and development projects is questioned (Egnell, 2010). According to General MacKenzie ‘soldiers are not social workers with guns. Both disciplines are important, but both will suffer if combined in the same individuals’ (Adinall, 2006). Within the aid community also, this argument is strongly endorsed. There are two main reasons for this. First, the military often lack humanitarian expertise, experience and training to conduct these types of activities effectively. This lack of expertise means that although the military may command – part of – the necessary resources this does not mean they know how to put their resources to good use (Bollen 2002). As a result, military projects in the sphere of development and humanitarian affairs often underperform in terms of cost-effectiveness and sustainability (Egnell, 2010). Besides, by engaging in these projects, the military are blurring the lines between military and civilian actors. Both recipients of aid as well as the conflicting parties may find it difficult to distinguish between providers of assistance and combatants. If the humanitarian community is associated not only with the intervening powers, but also with the political and military agendas of the larger intervention, the humanitarian space –access to suffering communities on both sides of the confrontation line, based on the humanitarian principles –risks being eroded (Egnell, 2010).

Health care activities performed by the Task Force Uruzgan

Treatment of local nationals

In many ways TFU personnel were confronted with injured Afghans whether or not as a result from conflict activity of international military or Afghan National Security Forces (ANSF). In such cases, typically, a commander forwarded a message including the location of the casualty, the nature of the injury and whether or not additional medical supplies were needed. This message consisted of nine rules referred to as the ‘nine-liner’. Subsequently, a flow chart was followed offering three options: the injured person is (1) a member of ANSF requiring emergency aid; (2) a non-combatant injured by conflict activity with ANSF or ISAF troops; (3) a non-

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combatant and the injury is unrelated to conflict activity. Non-combatants not only include the local population, but also media, contractors, personnel attached to UN agencies and humanitarian workers (Neuhaus, 2008). Within the first option, the injured person was treated in the casualty chain of the Coalition Forces (ISAF or OEF). After treatment the patient was discharged or transferred to an ANA or civilian hospital, most often the provincial hospital in Tarin Kowt (TK). Within the second option the patient was also treated in the casualty chain of the Coalition Forces. However, after treatment he or she was either discharged or transferred to a local national or NGO hospital. When the injured person was a non-combatant and the injury was unrelated to conflict activity (the third option), treatment depended on the extent of emergency care required and the extent of spare capacity within the medical facilities of the Coalition Forces. If considered an emergency and capacity was available, the patient was treated within Coalition Forces’ medical facilities. In any other circumstances the injured person was transferred to a local national or NGO hospital. Resulting from these rules, every so often Uruzgani in need of medical attention could not be helped, even if the means to do so were evidently available. This posed moral dilemmas for military medical personnel involved that were solved in various ways (Meerbach, 2009). For instance, medical personnel decided to exaggerate wounds and categorize them as life- or limb threatening, or use means available abundantly anyway (bandage). Basically, medical workers had to choose between following the military line by abiding the rules, or act upon their medical professional ethic, taking a more lenient approach to military rules. One Dutch doctor somewhat overdid it by characterizing a harelip as life threatening (Bak, 2010). Reasons for taking a fairly lenient view were diverse. For instance, an infant at the gate with non-life threatening appendicitis will, when sent away, develop a case needing emergency help in a day or so. Other, somewhat more expedient reasons were avoiding a lack of practice and boredom. Newer versions of the Medical Rules of Eligibility tend to be more specific in order to narrow down the room left for interpretation – something medical workers also seem to welcome (Bak, 2010). In general, in these rules the interests of their own military personnel (and Afghan National Security Forces personnel) outweigh those of the local population, and on a daily basis treatment of local nationals is refused or discontinued to keep enough capacity for coalition soldiers (Leemans and Van Haeff 2009). Such decisions are taken by the military commander, not by the doctor; the latter, who has a advisory role, is thought to be less prone to take the operational interests into account. Notwithstanding the fact that not all patients were eligible, in the Dutch-led Role 2 hospital approximately 90% of the patients treated were Afghans.

Medical Civil Affairs Patrols (MEDCAPs) and medical engagements

MEDCAPS and medical engagements constitute the most obvious military engagement in healthcare. ‘A MEDCAP is a patrol or a clinic conducted by a tactical com-

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mander using available ISAF, ANSF and Afghan Government (GIRoA) medical staff, in remote areas where usually NGOs have no access’. Together with Dental Civil Affairs Patrol (DENTCAP) and Veterinary Civil Affairs Patrol (VETCAP) this composes the village medical outreach. MEDCAP is commonly used in NATO as the generic term for clinical assistance patrols to local nationals in remote or disasteraffected areas. While popular with most military contingents during the first years of the operation in Afghanistan, the TFU carried out almost no MEDCAPS. A medical engagement refers to a medium or long-term medical assistance project without direct patient contact. Typically, a medical engagement may be a public health engineering project (construction of a clinic), an environmental management activity, a health education or clinical mentoring project, or a project involving the distribution of health-related ‘consent-winning’ items (e.g., spectacles, shoes or vitamins). TFU personnel carried out various medical engagements. The TFU Role 2 hospital provided the TK hospital with medical equipment including X-ray and sterilizer systems. If capacity permitted, hospital personnel also trained Afghan doctors and nurses in a wide range of specialties such as surgery, radiology and anesthesia. Being part of TFU’s Reconstruction Task Force, the Australian engineers were particularly active in (re)constructing medical facilities such as TK hospital, a medical training centre of AHDS and a basic health centre in Sorg Murgab. A third way of executing medical engagements was through so-called Functional Specialists Health. These Dutch reserve officers, often with large health management experience, were deployed within the Provincial Reconstruction Team. They initiated and were involved in several projects, mainly focusing on health publicity and the prevention of diseases. Examples include projects that were aimed at improving living conditions, safe and accessible drinking water and hygiene and sanitation. According to ISAF´s standard operating procedures MEDCAPs and medical engagements offer an opportunity to build trust with the Afghan people, develop ANSF medical and CIMIC public health capability, and assist GIRoA to deliver demonstrable benefits. The primary objective of MEDCAPs and medical engagements is to provide practical assistance to the local population to promote support for ISAF and GIRoA. A secondary objective is to improve the health of the population, in line with GIRoA’s public health strategy. It is said in ISAF’s guidelines that all MEDCAP and medical engagement activities are planned in conjunction with the provincial Director of Public Health (DPH) to avoid duplicating services, and also to avoid confrontation with NGOs contracted by GIRoA to implement healthcare in that province such as AHDS. This unfortunately is not always the case and smany of such activities are still carried out in isolation of local government or NGOs. MEDCAPS and medical engagements are at first glance humanitarian efforts that can be subject to dual loyalties, insofar as they are not undertaken as something worthwhile by itself, but as something that should help to attain the goals of a particular mission. This ambiguity might well be the Achilles heel of these mili-

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tary medical efforts. For instance, a report on a US Medical Civil Action Program (MEDCAP) in Iraq in 2003 states that: A MEDCAP is commonly used to mean engagement with the local community through the direct provision of healthcare in order to win the “hearts and minds” of the civil population (ISAF HQ, 2011).

Understandably, the operational objectives were pacification of threats to US forces and community stability by showing cooperation in humanitarian deeds. Counter to intuition, the provision of medical care only was a collateral benefit. The recognition that the task primarily was one of public relations was philosophically important to all parties involved (Malish et al., 2006). However, helping locals with an eye to furthering operational goals is for sure a source of tensions for medical personnel, since their ethic prescribes that patients are important as such, and that care should be provided independently of what is in it for us. The perception of success of the MEDCAP II programme widely diverged between operational and medical personnel. Command had no means by which to judge the quality of medical care or the effects of the care on popular opinion. As such, numbers-treated became the rubric by which success was measured, and thus, the goal of future iterations. Medical personnel, on the other hand, became disillusioned. Physicians were hobbled by limited histories, scores of healthy “patients”, the absence of diagnostic testing, and, most importantly, the lack of follow-up. Some believed that the programme ‘violated basic ethical standards of medical care’ (Malish et al., 2006). What is more, often such efforts have a short-term focus, are more concerned with the quantity of people reached than with the quality of care provided, and have the effect of undermining the trust of the local population in their own healthcare system (Alderman et al., 2010).

Support to humanitarian organisations

Today, most military acknowledge MoPH’s national and provincial-level medical programmes such as the basic package of health services and the essential package of hospital services, as well as the implementation of these programmes by NGOs such as AHDS, Cordaid and Healthnet TPO. TFU has been supporting international and Afghan humanitarian organizations in multiple ways. First, providing direct and indirect security TFU units enabled humanitarian organizations to carry out medical activities such as vaccination programmes. Many view the provision of security to be the military’s principal role in humanitarian assistance, in which there is no overlap between military and civilian competencies and domains (Rietjens and Bollen, 2008). Secondly, humanitarian organizations were financially supported. The Royal Netherlands Embassy allocated several million Euros on health programmes exe-

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cuted by NGOs. AHDS and Cordaid spent this money on e.g. TK hospital, the construction of community and basic healthcare centres, a training course for midwives and the purchase of an ambulance for the Chora region. Healthnet TPO primarily focused on mental healthcare, both through training courses as well as through the development of a monitoring system. These programmes were communicated and coordinated by development advisors within TFU’s Provincial Reconstruction Team. Thirdly, TFU has offered technical and logistical support to humanitarian organizations, including housing of humanitarian employees, as well as providing assessments on the health situation and technical knowledge and expertise on the aforementioned functional specialist healthcare. Such activities differ from MEDCAPs and medical engagements in that they facilitate and enable the work of humanitarian organizations, instead of being mainly carried out on the military’s own initiative.

Practice and principles: a discussion on military engagement in healthcare reconstruction In his article on dual loyalties of military medical personnel, medical ethicist Peter A. Clark poses the question whether there is ‘a need for guidelines to (…) assist military medical personnel in dealing with the issue of “dual loyalty”’ (2006: 571), and if so, what these guidelines might be. To begin with the first, easy answer: it seems evident that, insofar as they are not there yet, guidelines are needed. The picture Clark sketches of military doctors assisting in Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo bay suggests so, while the experiences of Dutch military medical personnel in Uruzgan point in the same direction. Regarding Clark’s second question we conclude this chapter by presenting some topics that should be included in the debate on comprehensive guidance for military medical personnel facing the choice whether or not to engage in healthcare to civilians. Notwithstanding military rules of eligibility, the treatment of non-combatants with injuries both related and unrelated to conflict activities poses several problems. Foremost, ISAF’s medical services are to support the mission by treating military, that generally are fit, healthy and young people as opposed to local national patients that include the elderly, children and the disabled; the kind of patients, obviously, the military casualty chain has not been designed for. In 2006, many children were treated in TFU’s Role 2 hospital, despite lacking support of Dutch politicians and military staff. To extend proper care military nurses and doctors needed special medication, food and rooms to temporarily house the patients’ relatives. These needs have been dealt with in a pragmatic and ad-hoc manner. As a comprehensive set of medical rules of engagement shared by all expeditionary military contingents is lacking, largely, in treating non-combatants military

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healthcare providers adhere to their own national protocols. Therefore, the degree and nature of care extended and the number of patients treated vary considerably amongst the troops of contributing nations. Whilst the Dutch referred all noncombat and non-critical patients to the local provincial hospital, the US hospital in Uruzgan abided by less strict rules, thereby attracting many local nationals preferring US military healthcare over the care provided in the provincial hospital. Whereas, in the short-term, military healthcare activities may seem to meet local needs, when delivered inconsistently these may conflict easily with reconstruction principles such as sustainability and capacity building. Moreover, when future military contingents are not able to maintain comparative levels of care, civilian expectations may be thwarted eliciting security risks for own troops. Also, the inconsistent delivery of healthcare may adversely affect local people’s health status. As a result of ongoing violence or renewed conflicts refugees create a specific subset of medical problems with high mortality rates, deprivation and disease. Women, elderly people and children prove to be most vulnerable. Upon arrival in refugee camps, epidemics, infectious diseases and malnutrition take their toll. Military health care, by its nature, cannot be expected to cope with the health needs of refugees and IDPs. However, at the request of governments and in close collaboration with the aid community the military can be involved in extending emergency relief (Bollen, 2002). Military activities in the field of MEDCAPS and medical engagements fit into Egnell’s (2010) categorization of hearts and minds operations as ‘a distinct category of tactical activities, separated from traditional military tasks’. Such operations use military resources to provide carefully targeted support to local communities to increase campaign authority and legitimacy instead of impartial alleviation of human suffering or development. Such hearts and minds projects are also described as part of ‘short-term military necessity’; something to balance against long-term considerations such as rule of law, providing an acceptable steady state, and the success of the campaign as a whole (UK MoD, 2004). Wilder (2008) points out the contemporary interpretation of winning hearts and minds in a setting of comprehensive approaches to stabilization and peace building has created a number of questionable assumptions regarding the links between stabilization and aid. First, it is assumed that reconstruction efforts have stabilizing effects on conflict. It is thought that aid will lead to economic development which in turn, will bring about stability. Second, aid projects are assumed to help win the hearts and minds and thereby increase support for the host government and for the international presence. Third, extending the reach of the Afghan government is assumed to contribute to stabilization. This is explicitly expressed as the PRTs’ objective. However, Wilder’s research in Afghanistan indicates that these causal assumptions underlying the non-coercive hearts and minds approach may be false (Wilder, 2008). In addition to the lack of evidence regarding the effectiveness of hearts and minds projects and the doubtful assumptions in directly relating stabilization to aid,

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any justification of post-conflict healthcare reconstruction based on its contribution to development or political stability is considered instrumentalist and risky. First and foremost, because achieving an improved health status for a population is an end in and of itself, instead of a step on the way to attaining political goals (Waldman, 2007). A second risk is run whenever investments in healthcare are used for ‘winning hearts and minds’ by devoting resources to visible projects at the expense of sustainable system-building activities. Except for support for a host country’s health services for its own military, across the development community, the military’s approach is perceived to be short-term and tactical, project- rather than systemsbased. Military-generated projects are criticized for not being linked to building a coherent system of services, and for not being oriented towards building the MoPH’s capacity or a long-term vision that links healthcare facilities with staffing needs. Moreover, in insecure environments, military engagement in health reconstruction activities can undermine the safety of health workers (Rubenstein, 2009). Last, approaching health reconstruction as a means of conflict prevention can distort policy and spending decisions by way of concentrating on programmes and projects that appear most connected to conflict resolution. This can then undermine comprehensive capacity development to improve population health based on principles of equity and non-discrimination (Rubenstein, 2009). In conclusion, we add that military activities in the realm of direct or indirect security, specifically when backed by civilian populations and institutions do not conflict with nor add to ethical and policy concerns as mentioned in sections 2 and 3. On the contrary, as the question of what is ultimately responsible for most mortality and morbidity in states transitioning from conflict towards stability may be better answered by violence, political instability, poor governance and abject poverty than by diseases and epidemics (Waldman, 2006).

Note 1 The WMA policy is available at: http://www.wma.net/en/30publications/10policies/a20/ index.html.

References Adinall, R (2006) Transformations of War and Public Perception: Implications for 21st Century Warfare. Canadian Army Journal 9(1), 50. Alderman, S., Christensen, J. and Crawford, I. (2010) Medical Seminars: A New Paradigm for SOF Counterinsurgency Medical Programs. Journal of Special Operations Medicine: a Peer Reviewed Journal for SOF Medical Professionals 10(1), 16-22.

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Afghanistan Research and Evaluation Unit (AREU) (2006) Afghanistan’s Health System since 2001: Condition Improved, Prognosis Cautiously Optimistic. Kabul: AREU. Bak, B.M. (2010) Medical rules of eligibility: Evaluatie van het NAVO beleidsinstrument dat de medische keten van ISAF hanteert bij het behandelen van niet-coalitietroepen. (Medical rules of eligibility: Evaluation of the NAVO policy instrument that the medical chain of ISAF uses to treat non-coalition forces). Breda: Nederlandse Defensie Academie. Benatar, S. R. and Upshur, R.E.G. (2008) Dual loyalty of physicians in the military and in civilian life. American Journal of Public Health 98(12), 2161-2167. Bollen, M.T.I.B. (2002) Working apart together: Civil-Military cooperation during humanitarian operations. Breda: Nederlandse Defensie Academie. Clark, P.A. (2006) Medical Ethics at Guantanamo Bay and Abu Ghraib: The Problem of Dual Loyalty. The Journal of Law, Medicine & Ethics 34(3), 570-80. Dual Loyalty Working Group (2002) Dual Loyalty and Human Rights in Health Professional Practice. Proposed Guidelines and Institutional Mechanisms. Washington: Physicians for Human Rights. Egnell, R. (2010) Winning legitimacy? A Critical Analysis of Hearts and Minds Activities in Afghanistan. Paper presented at International Studies Association, New Orleans, February 2010. Gross, M.L. (2006) Bioethics and armed conflict: Moral dilemmas of medicine and war. Cambridge, Mass: MIT Press. ISAF HQ (2011) Standard Operating Procedure HQ-01154 (revision 1). Isaf guidance on military medical engagement in health sector reconstruction and development. Kabul: ISAF HQ. London, L., Rubenstein, L., Baldwin-Ragaven, L. and Van Es, A. (2006) Dual Loyalty among Military Health Professionals: Human Rights and Ethics in Times of Armed Conflict. Cambridge Quarterly of Healthcare Ethics 15(4), 381-391. Malish, R., Scott, J.S. and Rasheed, B.O. (2006) Military-civic action: lessons learned from a brigade-level aid project in the 2003 war with Iraq. Prehospital and Disaster Medicine 21(3), 135-138. Meerbach, C.M.C. (2009) Morele professionaliteit van Algemeen Militair Verpleegkundigen in hedendaagse operaties (Moral professionalism of general military nurses in contemporary operations). Breda: Nederlandse Defensie Academie. Neuhaus, S.J. (2008) Medical aspects of civil-military operations: The challenges of military health support to civilian populations on operations. In: Ankersen, C. (ed.) Civil-military cooperation in post-conflict operations. London: Routledge. Rietjens, S. and Bollen, M. (eds.) (2008) Managing Civil-Military Cooperation: A 24/7 joint effort for stability. Aldershot: Ashgate. Rietjens, S., Bollen, M., Khalil, M. and Wahidi, S.F. (2009) Enhancing the local footprint: Participation of Afghan stakeholders in ISAF’s reconstruction activities. Parameters 39(1), 1-19. Robinson, P. (2007) Ethics Training and Development in the Military. Parameters 37(1), 22-36. Rubenstein, L.S. (2009) Post-Conflict Health Reconstruction: New Foundations for U.S. Policy. United States Institute of Peace. Available at: www.usip.org.

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The Liaison Office (TLO) (2010) The Dutch Engagement in Uruzgan: 2006-2010, A TLO sociopolitical assessment. Kabul: TLO. UK MoD (2004) Military contributions to Peace Support Operations, JWP 3-50. London: UK MoD, 4-24. Waldman, R. (2006) Health Programming in Post-Conflict Fragile States. Arlington (VA): BASICS and USAID. Waldman, R. (2007) Health Programming for Rebuilding States: A Briefing Paper. Arlington (VA): BASICS and USAID. Walzer, M. (2004) Arguing about War. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. WHO (2007) Everybody’s business: Strengthening health systems to improve health outcomes: WHO’s framework for action. Geneva: World Health Organization. Wilder, A. (2008) Winning Hearts and Minds? Examining the Relationship Between Aid and Security in Afghanistan, Pakistan and the Horn of Africa. Boston: Feinstein International Center.

Part IV Evaluating

19

Dutch Treat? Burden sharing in Afghanistan Marion Bogers, Robert Beeres and Irene Lubberman-Schrotenboer

Introduction During the NATO Lisbon Summit in November 2010, United States president Obama asked the 28 NATO member states to keep up contributing to the operations in Afghanistan. In particular, he requested the Netherlands to contribute to training the Afghan police. However, the political situation of the Netherlands at that time prohibited duly announced commitments. This did not cause Dutch Prime Minister Rutte to worry about the prestige of the Netherlands in NATO. He stated ‘[t]he Netherlands already sent thousands of troops to Afghanistan, far outreaching the number one could expect when considering the size of our population’ (NRC Handelsblad, 2010). This self-assertive quote touches the very core of the ongoing debate within NATO concerning burden sharing among the partner countries in Afghanistan (Bennett et al., 1994; Ringsmose, 2010; Sperling and Webber, 2009). In Prime Minister Rutte’s view the Netherlands, being a relatively small country, has done ‘enough’. But, how can we assess whether this self-image is right? Is the Netherlands really a ‘small country’ or is it a ‘superpower in pocket size’ (CCSS, 2006: 10)? Indeed, the surface area could be called small. However, according to the World Bank (2010) in 2009, in terms of Gross Domestic Product (GDP) the Netherlands make up for the sixteenth economy of the world. Moreover, according to the World Trade Organization (2010) in 2009, the Netherlands score fifth as leading exporting nation in the world, while the country comes in seventh amongst the importers. This places the Netherlands among undisputed giants like the United Kingdom, France and Italy. The interests of such internationally trading countries are best served by international stability and stable relations with other countries. Against this background it is important that the Netherlands invest in international security policy along with other countries and hence share the burden this entails. After the Summit, the Dutch government decided, with consent of Parliament, to take part in a police training mission in the province of Kunduz in the north of Afghanistan from mid 2011 to mid 2014, and hence to still be actively involved in reconstructing Afghanistan (Dutch Parliament, 2010-2011).

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The Dutch contribution to Afghanistan The Dutch contribution to the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) has lasted almost a decade, and it is a mission at great distance from the Netherlands. Crisis response operations incur extra spending by armed forces. In case of the contribution of the Netherlands Armed Forces to ISAF the following factors can be considered the main cost drivers. Firstly, geographical factors cause additional costs for transport of troops and equipment. Secondly, personnel costs rise due to extra salary bonuses and allowances. Thirdly, wear and tear of military equipment happens faster than expected. Finally, necessary purchase of extra equipment and replacement of damaged equipment cause military expenditures to rise while on mission. Table 19.1 Additional expenditures ISAF by the Netherlands Armed Forces Contribution to ISAF

Period

Expenditures (x € 1.000)

Average number of personnel

Realized

2001-2006

313,988

4,454

2007-2009

848,364

5,598

Total

2002-2009

1,163,352

10,052

Budgeted

2010

316,000

1,667 [max.]

2011-2012

125,000

Redeployment

2011-2014 (KUNDUZ)

467,000

545

2,071,352

12,264

Total

2002-2014

Sources: 2002-2009: Dutch Parliament (2003-2010); 2010, 2011-2012: Dutch Parliament (2009-2010); 2011-2014 (KUNDUZ): Dutch Parliament (2010-2011)

Table 19.1 presents the additional expenditures accounting for the contribution of the Netherlands Armed Forces to ISAF. From 2001 through 2009 Table 19.1 presents realized expenditures whereas the recorded expenditures in the remaining periods are the NAF’s budget plan of 2010. The last column of Table 19.1 represents the average Dutch troops deployed per year. Because of rotations – a military tour lasts approximately 4-6 months – two to three times as many troops as presented in Table 19.1 are actually being deployed on an annual basis. By 2014 – when the contribution to ISAF (including the planned contribution to the police training mission in KUNDUZ) will have ended – 24,500 to 38,800 Dutch troops will have contributed to ISAF. To get a total view of the expenditures for the Dutch deployment in Afghanistan the expenditures not funded separately have to be added to the €  2.07 billion mentioned in Table 19.1. These are expenditures for (1) Replacement of damaged

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equipment. This equipment (e.g., Chinook helicopters and armoured vehicles) has been partly replaced for € 155M; (2) Extra wear and tear. Due to harsh conditions in Afghanistan, equipment has to be replaced earlier than foreseen or needs more overhaul. In the defence budget, for a four-year period € 200M has been allocated to cope with this problem; (3) Acquisition of additional equipment. Deployment in Afghanistan required additional means (e.g., MRAPs and armoured containers). Expenditures were approximately € 170M; (4) Additional training and exercises. ISAF caused a considerable increase in training and exercise. Expenditures amount to approximately € 60M (Beeres, et al., 2009). By adding the above-mentioned amounts to the sum total in Table 19.1, we estimate that the total additional expenditures for ISAF will be about € 2.6 billion in 2014. Please note that these estimated figures only cover military expenditures. The social costs for the Dutch society (Stiglitz and Bilmes, 2008) remain yet to be seen.

Measures for burden sharing From a NATO perspective, measures for burden sharing show how costs and risks associated with providing international collective goods are allocated among its members (Hillison, 2009; Thielemann, 2003). Allocation of the collective burden has been discussed since the establishment of NATO (1949). Central in this discussion is the US’ complaint of contributing relatively more than their allies for producing the collective NATO defence – or perhaps even too much. Olson and Zeckhauser (1966) delivered a classic contribution to this discussion in which they chose NATO to illustrate their generic model of the workings of international organizations. They model NATO as a provider of public goods (i.e., goods characterized by non-rivalry and non-excludability). Non-rivalry means consumption of one consumer does not compromise another consumer, whereas non-excludability means no one can be excluded from consumption if supplied. For example, the product ‘deterrence’, during the Cold War achieved by nuclear weapons, was non-rival as it does not depend on the size of NATO and non-exclusive because no NATO ally could be excluded from the advantages of using these weapons. Actually, during the Cold war the United States, the United Kingdom and France were the only military superpowers in the alliance directing efforts to nuclear defence while all NATO members profited from these efforts; they were ‘free-riders’. In the 1970s, the pure public good model of Olson and Zeckhauser (1966) was supplemented by the Joint Product Model of Sandler and Cauley (1975) and Murdoch and Sandler (1982). The latter scholars argue that defence is not a pure but an impure public good. Within NATO there were instruments available to sanction free-riders. If, for example, one member according to other members does not contribute ‘enough’ to the alliance, this member – in principle – can be excluded from the alliance and thus lose all benefits that come along with membership (Ringsmose, 2009) Though incidental exclusion was possible (and perhaps even wanted

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for some reasons) by the United States during the Cold war, there were reasons preventing attempts of exclusion. Many allies were indispensable because of their geographical location. During the Cold war, contributions to NATO were expressed in terms of the growth of defence expenditures. This measure typically visualizes the means available to the military and not the output generated. Usage of such a measure can be explained by the fact that in that period the build-up of the defence forces was aimed at deterring instead of actually striking the enemy. By taking command of ISAF on August 11, 2003, NATO started operating outside Europe for the first time. This gave rise to new debate among NATO members, shifting attention from how much money is spent to how this money is spent. New questions include: Are the members capable of contributing to out-of-area operations? Are the members prepared to engage in risky operations outside Europe? In addition, since then discussions also concern how to measure contributions of NATO members to the new public good NATO provides (i.e., out-of-area operations). In this regard, during the NATO Riga Summit in 2006, NATO countries set ‘usability’ and ‘sustainability’ objectives in order to improve ‘readiness’. In fact, these objectives focus on the results of the process of preparing units for deployment of the armed forces of each country. With regard to actual deployment in crisis response operations though, two aspects are important, according to Beeres and Bogers (2011). First, does a country’s available capacity fill a need? Second, is there political will to contribute to a NATO led crisis support operation? Today, discussions about burden sharing in Afghanistan do not only address quantitative measures concerning personnel and military means deployed by NATO members but also the distribution of risks. Discussions about the latter clearly display discord within NATO. There are, for example, only a few countries willing to fight the Taliban in the risky southern and eastern parts of Afghanistan, while other countries openly admit they are only willing to send troops to safer parts of Afghanistan (NRC Handelsblad, 2008). In this regard, the US Minister of Defence Gates warned for a ‘two-tiered alliance’, of which just a limited number of countries are willing to fight and die for security. He especially focused on European allies operating in the calm parts of Afghanistan occupied with less risky reconstruction tasks (Guardian, 2008).

Burden sharing: comparing deployed personnel Table 19.2 relates the military contribution of the Netherlands to ISAF to other contributing countries using a number of measures covering the period from 2007 to 2010. The first measure is the average number of troops deployed (column 1). Since the number of troops deployed may fluctuate through time, we also present the standard deviation of this measure (column 2). Figures of countries which had only small numbers of troops deployed in Afghanistan relative to the ISAF total are

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Table 19.2 Deployed troops ISAF (2007-2010) Country

(1)

(2)

(3)

(4)

(5)

(6)

1,101

353

2.07

1.65

2.48

2.87

Belgium

427

97

1.09

0.64

1.25

1.46

Canada

2,652

234

4.13

3.98

4.00

4.33

655

138

2.26

0.98

0.66

0.98

France

2,478

1,163

0.82

3.72

7.71

8.22

Germany

3,649

628

1.99

5.47

9.91

10.45

127

35

0.12

0.19

1.29

1.01

Italy

2,651

537

1.42

3.94

7.00

6.63

Netherlands

1,583

422

3.95

2.37

2.00

2.48

473

33

3.90

0.71

0.56

1.24

1,521

755

1.69

2.28

4.63

1.41

912

345

0.56

1.37

4.87

4.57

Australia

Denmark

Greece

Norway Poland Spain

357

94

2.72

0.54

1.09

1.38

Turkey

Sweden

1,087

485

0.75

1.63

8.65

2.02

United Kingdom

8,196

1,316

4.63

12.29

7.33

7.76

34,873

28,657

2.34

52.28

36.56

43.22

Other

3,984

1,568

–

5.97

–

–

Total

66,706

35,147

–

100%

–

–

United States

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6)

Average number of troops deployed for ISAF (absolute); Standard deviation of 1 (absolute); Number of troops deployed relative to the number of active military personnel of that country (%); Number of troops deployed relative to the total of troops deployed to ISAF by the selected countries (%); Population size relative to the total population of the selected countries contributing to ISAF (%); GDP relative to total GDP of the selected countries contributing to ISAF %.

Sources: CIA (2010), NATO (2011) and World Bank (2010)

not listed separately but included in the row ‘Other’ in Table 19.2. When focusing on the number of troops deployed, without a doubt the United States contribute most to ISAF. The standard deviation is also highest for the United States with 82 per cent. This can be explained by the rise in troops deployed from 15,000 in 2007 to 90,000 at the end of 2010 during the Obama administration. On the basis of the figures in column (1) and (2) we conclude that the military contributions of the Netherlands can be considered ‘average’. The US, the UK, Germany, Italy and France score higher. The military contribution of Poland is comparable with that of the Netherlands. The third column in 19.2 describes the number of troops deployed relative to the active military personnel of the country. The Dutch contribution is relatively large

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(3.95 per cent) when measured as number of troops deployed relative to the number of active military personnel. The Netherlands Armed Forces is only surpassed by the United Kingdom and Canada. Column 4 contains the numbers of troops deployed per country relative to the total number of troops deployed for ISAF. For the Netherlands this measure equals 2.37 per cent. However, by sole use of this measure it is hard to say whether the countries’ contributions suffice. Therefore, in burden-sharing literature (e.g., Kollias, 2008; Sandler and Hartley, 2001) this measure is often related to the relative population size (column 5) and size of the economy (column 6). Comparing the relative number of troops deployed and population size (column 4 and 5), we see that 2 per cent of the total population size of selected ISAF countries live in the Netherlands, while the Netherlands delivered 2.37 per cent of ISAF personnel. From this comparison it follows the relative Dutch contribution to ISAF is ‘aligned’ to its relative population size. From a cross analysis of the remaining measures, we conclude the Dutch contribution over the period 2007-2010 was also relatively large in those respects. As column 6 shows, Germany, France, Italy, Spain and the United Kingdom are Europe’s economic superpowers. They nonetheless contribute relatively less troops to the ISAF total than the Netherlands, except for the United Kingdom, than could be expected from their economic position. Poland and the US also score higher than the Netherlands on this measure. Analyzing relative contributions on the basis of population size yields comparable results. From these comparisons, we conclude the contributions of the Netherlands, but also of Canada and Denmark for example, are aligned with their relative population size and size of the economy. The comparisons also show the UK and the US are strongly involved in ISAF.

Burden sharing: comparison based on risk sharing in Afghanistan Since NATO conducts ‘out-of-area-operations’, the burden-sharing discussion is not merely concerned with quantitative assessments of contributions to NATO but also with the risks countries bear (Ringsmose, 2010; Sperling en Webber, 2009). In the analysis presented in the previous section, we did not take into account the circumstances and associated risks under which each country operates in Afghanistan. In this section, we do. Sperling and Webber (2009: 507) suggest analyzing the following dimensions for this purpose: (1) the number of combat deaths; (2) stationing of troops either in relatively ‘safe’ as opposed to ‘dangerous’ regional commands within Afghanistan; and (3) the politically determined national caveats. These caveats restrict deployment options. For example, German troops stationed in the north of Afghanistan were only allowed to conduct operations during daytime no further than two hours distance from a military hospital (Feickert, 2006). Apart from this example, most caveats are classified and therefore not available for publication in

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Table 19.3 Military fatalities ISAF (2001-2010) Country

(1)

(2)

(3)

(4)

(5)

(6)

Australia

1

20

21

0.94

1.82

1.0

Belgium

0

1

1

0.04

0.23

0.1

Canada

44

110

154

6.89

4.15

4.6

4

35

39

1.75

5.34

7.1

France

11

41

52

2.33

1.65

0.8

Germany

20

26

46

2.06

0.71

0.6

Greece

0

0

0

0.00

0.00

0.0

Italy

9

25

34

1.52

0.95

0.6

Netherlands

4

21

25

1.12

1.33

1.5

Norway

1

8

9

0.40

1.69

1.9

Poland

0

22

22

0.98

1.45

0.6

19

11

30

1.34

1.21

0.7

Sweden

2

3

5

0.22

0.84

0.6

Turkey

0

2

2

0.09

0.18

0.0

44

304

348

15.58

3.71

5.7

358

1088

1446

64.73

3.12

4.8

Denmark

Spain

United Kingdom United States (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6)

Military Military Military Military Military Military

fatalities fatalities fatalities fatalities fatalities fatalities

period 2001-2006 (absolute); period 2007-2010 (absolute); period 2001-2010 (absolute); relative to total fatalities of the selected countries 2001-2010 (%); relative to number of troops deployed 2007-2010 (%); per million inhabitants (%).

Sources: ICASUALITIES (2011), IISS (2001-2010)

this chapter. So, in the following, we concentrate on the first two separable dimensions of risk previously mentioned. Table 19.3 contains a quantitative overview per country of military combatrelated deaths. The columns 1 and 2 present military fatalities from 2001-2006 and from 2007-2010 respectively. From comparison of both periods it appears that most countries suffered considerably more casualties in the latter period. The third column contains the sum total of column 1 and 2. Column 4 provides an insight into the country’s share in the total number of soldiers killed of the selected ISAF coalition countries. This column shows that the United States (1,446), the United Kingdom (348) and Canada (154) bear the most casualties. Next, columns 5 and 6 relate military casualties to the number of troops deployed and the population size respectively. These data show that Denmark, being deployed in the province of Helmand, ranks high on both measures. Moreover, regarding the measures presented

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in column 5 and 6, the British troops, also contributing to ISAF operations in the province of Helmand, have a high casualty rate. Next to the American, Canadian, British and Danish armed forces, Norway and the Netherlands carry the heaviest burden in terms of military casualties per million inhabitants (column 6). ISAF’s most important task is to create safety to allow reconstruction and development in Afghanistan. NATO (2009) describes Afghanistan’s security situation in 2008 as ‘mixed’. The level of violence has increased in the parts of southern, southeastern and southwestern Afghanistan, whereas large parts in the north, middle and west of Afghanistan have remained fairly stable. Against this background, we now focus on the second dimension that, according to Sperling and Webber (2009), is relevant to assess the risk of the operations in Afghanistan. This dimension involves the security situation of the location where a contributing country stations its troops. Useful data for this purpose would be data concerning the security levels per province. In this regard, the United Nations (UN) gathers data of the security situations in Afghanistan’s provinces using indicators like security incidents, political stability and number of operations conducted by ISAF (Trofimov, 2010). Unfortunately, this UN data is classified and, therefore, not available to us. In order to gain some insight in risk sharing among contributing countries we use data (ANSO, 2010; ICASUALITIES, 2011; UNODC, 2007-2011) covering the ISAF Regional Commands (RC) of three selected measures, comprising military fatalities, the number of attacks by Armed Opposition Groups (AOG) and the number of hectares of poppy cultivation. The first measure, presented in Table 19.4, indicates that the provinces located in the areas of RC South West, RC South and RC East are most unsafe. In the province of Uruzgan, located in the area of RC South, a total of 63 soldiers died between 2001 and 2010. The number of military fatalities (618) in the province of Helmand, located in RC South West, is substantially higher than in all other provinces in Afghanistan. In the province of Uruzgan, the relative increase of military fatalities in the past two years amounts to 27 per cent (from 11 to 14). This is substantially lower than in the other provinces in the same region, like Zabul (1,050 per cent; from 2 to 23) and Kandahar (98 per cent; from 45 to 89) (untabulated results). In absolute terms, fewer soldiers died in the north and west of Afghanistan from 2001 to 2010. This is also confirmed by General Van Uhm, commander of the Dutch armed forces, during a briefing of the Dutch Parliament about a future police mission of the Netherlands Armed Forces in the province of Kunduz. He judged the situation in Kunduz considerably safer than in Uruzgan. However, the data in the fourth column of Table 19.4 show the strongest increase of military fatalities took place in RC North. Focusing on the province of Kunduz, we see also see a considerable increase of military fatalities during the past two years. This may indicate a deteriorated security situation in this province once known for its relatively safe circumstances.

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Table 19.4 Military fatalities per Regional Command (RC) (20012010) ISAF RC

Provinces

RC North RC East RC South RC South West RC West (1) (2) (3) (4)

(1)

(2)

(3)

(4)

Total

5

59

64

400

Kunduz

1

24

25

350

Total

134

430

564

47

Total

102

351

453

136

Uruzgan

19

44

63

27

Total

33

588

621

267

Helmand

33

585

618

266

4

70

74

47

Total

Military fatalities 2001-2006 (absolute); Military fatalities 2007-2010 (absolute); Military fatalities 2001-2010 (absolute); Increase of military fatalities in 2010 compared to 2008 (%)

Source: ICASUALITIES (2011)

The next measure we selected as an indicator of the security situation of Afghanistan’s provinces is the number of attacks by so-called Armed Opposition Groups (AOG) on Non Governmental Organizations (NGO). The Afghan NGO Safety Office (ANSO), an independent organization financed by western governments, reports this data quarterly. Table 19.5 presents the number of attacks per regional command from 2008 to 2010. Though this data is purely quantitative, and therefore does not provide any information about the impact of the respective attacks, we use it a ‘raw’ indicator of the security level. Table 19.5 shows most attacks by AOGs took place in the east, south and southwest of Afghanistan and it shows the number of attacks per 1,000 inhabitants was highest in RC South and South West. Note that all regions experienced an increase of attacks from 2008 to 2010, amounting on average to 138 per cent. The relative increases of attacks in the north, southwest and west of Afghanistan were above this average as were the increases in the provinces of Uruzgan (224 per cent and Kunduz (242 per cent). The increase of attacks by AOGs can be explained by relocation of NATO troops during the past couple of years towards areas controlled by Taliban. Since 2009, NATO has operated with more troops than before in the south (33,500), south west (31,000) and east (30,200) of Afghanistan. The Taliban responded by showing more resistance there, but also by displaying more activities in the north of Afghanistan, where NATO stationed much less troops (2010; 9,300 troops) (ANSO, 2010). The last indicator we selected to assess the security level in Afghanistan is opium cultivation. According to the NATO Afghanistan Report 2009, opium cultivation

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Table 19.5 Attacks by Armed Opposition Groups (AOGs) on Non Governmental Organizations (NGOs) (2008-2010) ISAF RC

Provinces

RC North

Total Kunduz

(1)

(2)

(3)

617

288

0.09

197

242

0.47

RC East

Total

3732

118

0.32

RC South

Total

1162

83

0.54

Uruzgan

164

224

0.48

Total

716

247

0.71

Helmand

633

272

0.74

RC West

Total

514

216

0.15

Afghanistan

Total

6741

138

0.27

RC South West

(1)Average number of attacks 2008-2010 (2)Increase in 2010 compared to 2008 (3)Number of attacks per 1,000 inhabitants.

Source: ANSO (2010)

is an important source of revenue of the Taliban and there is a correlation between opium cultivation and the level of violence per region. Table 19.6 contains an overview of the development of the hectares used for poppy cultivation per ISAF Regional Command. Column 1 shows that from 2002 to 2006 on average most poppies were cultivated in the north and south west of Afghanistan. From 2007 onwards, the number of hectares of poppy cultivated in the north and east of Afghanistan decreased sharply. Column 5 shows that in 2010 most poppies were cultivated in the south and southwest of Afghanistan. Moreover, in 2010, more than 90 per cent of the poppy cultivation was located in only four provinces: Helmand (53 per cent), Kandahar (21 per cent), Farah (12 per cent) and Uruzgan (6 per cent). Column 5 also shows in 2010 relatively few poppies were grown in the north and east of Afghanistan. In the east and southwest of Afghanistan, poppy cultivation decreased whereas increases were reported for the other regions in 2010, including the north. However, in its latest report the UNODC (2011) declares the north of Afghanistan ‘poppy-free’. Please note that this label only concerns poppy cultivation, not drugs laboratories and drugs trafficking. Still, large quantities of opiates to be sold in central Asia leave Afghanistan via the northeastern provinces, while transit routes also pass through the Northern provinces. Combining the three indicative measures of security presented above, we conclude that south, south-east and the east of Afghanistan are the most risky regions as they score high on all three measures. More specifically, the largest numbers of military fatalities are found in the southwest, especially in the province of Helmand; in the period from 2008 to 2010 most attacks by AOGs on NGOs took place in the east and

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Table 19.6 Number of hectares of poppy cultivation per Regional Command (RC) (2002-2010) ISAF RC

Provinces

(1)

(2)

(3)

(4)

(5)

(6)

RC North

Total

25,181

9,735

966

557

1,100

14

133

0

0

0

0

0

RC East

Total

21,129

21,081

1,461

725

1,259

-14

RC South

Total

18,650

30,776

29,170

33,181

35,202

21

7,010

9,204

9,939

9,224

7,337

-26

34,917

109,277

109,793

70,261

67,084

-39

Helmand

34,100

102,770

103,590

69,833

65,045

-37

Total

10,933

22,112

15,863

18,372

17,870

13

Kunduz

Uruzgan RC South West RC West (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6)

Total

Average number of hectares of poppy cultivation 2002-2006; Number of hectares of poppy cultivation 2007; Number of hectares of poppy cultivation 2008; Number of hectares of poppy cultivation 2009; Number of hectares of poppy cultivation 2010; Increase/decrease in 2010 compared to 2008

Source: UNODC (2007-2011)

in 2010 most poppies were cultivated in the southwest. Considering the changes from 2008 to 2010 in the data per selected measure it seems the security levels of the northern and western parts of Afghanistan are decreasing. In sum, our results demonstrate that the Netherlands, together with Australia, Canada, Denmark, the United States and the United Kingdom have operated under risky circumstances in southern Afghanistan, while military troops from other European countries (Germany, Italy, Norway, Spain and Sweden) have operated in the calmer provinces of north and west.

Conclusion From our analysis, we conclude that the military contribution of the Netherlands is in line with its population size, surpassing other European countries including Germany, France, Italy, Belgium, Poland and Spain. Their relative contributions score well below their relative population size. The military contribution of the Netherlands, however, is broadly surpassed by the United States and the United Kingdom. We also find that the Netherlands distinguishes itself from many other European countries by having operated in the province of Uruzgan in the south of Afghanistan instead of in calmer provinces, thereby signalling itself as a reliable ally within NATO. After the Netherlands Armed Forces has ended the mission in

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Uruzgan, the United States became lead nation in the province of Uruzgan. Now, the US has no less than 90,000 troops deployed in Afghanistan, which means they definitely bear the heaviest burden. With the coming police-training mission in the province of Kunduz, the Netherlands keeps contributing to ISAF.

References ANSO (2010) ANSO Quarterly data report Q3 (2010). Available at: http://www.afgnso.org. Beeres, R. and Bogers, M. (2011) Ranking European Armed Forces. Defence and Peace Economics (accepted). Beeres, R.J.M., de Bakker, E.J. and Schulten, C.A.J.M. (2009) Defensie en de uitgaven voor Afghanistan (Defence and the Expenditures for Afghanistan). Jaarboek overheidsfinancien 2009. Sdu Uitgevers, 215-229. Bennett, A. Lepgold, J. and Unger, D. (1994) Burden-sharing in the Persian Gulf War. International Organization 48(1), 39-75. CIA (2010) The World Factbook. Available at: http://www.cia.gov/. CCSS (2006) Luchtmacht: noodzaak of luxe? (Air Force: Necessity or Luxury?) Den Haag: Clingendael Centre for Strategic Studies. Available at: http://www.hcss.nl. Dutch Parliament (2003-2004). Prinsjesdagbrief. Op weg naar nieuw evenwicht: de krijgsmacht in de komende jaren (Prinsjesdagbrief. On Route to a new Balance: the Armed Forces in the Coming Years). 29200X, nr. 4. Dutch Parliament (2003-2010) Jaarverslag van het Ministerie van Defensie (Annual Report of the Ministry of Defence). Den Haag: Ministerie van Defensie. Dutch Parliament (2009-2010) Vaststelling van de begrotingsstaten van het Ministerie van Defensie (X) voor het jaar 2011 (The Budget of the Ministry of Defence (X) for the Year 2011). 32500X, nr.2. Dutch Parliament (2010-2011) Bestrijding internationaal terrorisme. Brief van de Ministers van Buitenlandse Zaken, van Defensie, van Veiligheid en Justitie, en van de Staatssecretaris van Buitenlandse Zaken (Fighting International Terrorism. Letter Issued by the Ministers of Foreign Affairs, Defence, Security and Justice and the Secretary of State of Foreign Affairs). 27925, nr. 415, 1-20. Feickert, A. (2006) US and Coalition Military Operations in Afghanistan: Issues for Congress, CRS Report for Congress, June 9. Available at: http://fpc.state.gov. Guardian (2008) Gates demands more troops willing to fight and die in Afghanistan, 7 February 2008. Available at: guardian.co.uk. Hillison, J.R. (2009) New Members, New Burdens: Burden-sharing Within NATO. Ph.D.dissertation. Philadelphia: Temple University. ICASUALITIES (2011) Coalition Military Fatalities By Year. Available at: icasualities.org. Kollias, C. (2008) A Preliminary Investigation of The Burden Sharing Aspects of A European Union Common Defence Policy. Defence and Peace Economics 19(4), 253-263. IISS (2001-2010) The Military Balance 2001-2010. London: Routledge.

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Murdoch, J.C. and Sandler, T. (1982) A theoretical and empirical analysis of NATO. Journal of Conflict Resolution 26: 237-263. NATO (2008) Progress in Afghanistan, Bucharest Summit 2-4 April 2008. Available at: www. isaf.nato.int. NATO (2009) Afghanistan Report 2009. Available at: www.isaf.nato.int. NATO (2011) Afghanistan International Security Assistance Force. Available at: http://www. isaf.nato.int NRC Handelsblad (2008) Verhagen: Flexibeler inzet troepen Afghanistan (Verhagen: more flexible use of troops in Afghanistan), March 13. NRC Handelsblad (2010) Rutte niet bezorgd over aanzien in NAVO, Rutte not worried about NATO’s Status), November 20. Olson, M. and Zeckhauser, R. (1966) An economic theory of alliances. Review of Economics and Statistics, 48(3), 266-279. Ringsmose, J. (2010) NATO Burden-sharing Redux: Continuity and Change after the Cold War. Contemporary Security Policy, 31(2), 319-338. Sandler, T. and Cauley, J. (1975) On the economic theory of alliances. Journal of Conflict Resolution 19(2), 330-348. Sandler, T. and Hartley, K. (2001) Economics of Alliances: The Lessons for Collective Action. Journal of Economic Literature 39(3), 869-896. Sperling, J. and Webber M. (2009) NATO: from KOSOVO to Kabul. International Affairs, 85(3), 491-511. Stiglitz, J.E. and Bilmes, L.J. (2008) The Three Trillion Dollar War. The True Cost of the Iraq Conflict. London: Allen Lane. Thielemann, E.R. (2003) Between interest and norms: Explaining Burden Sharing in the European Union. Journal of Refugee Studies 16(3) 253-273. Trofimov, Y. (2010) UN Maps Out Afghan Security. The Wall Street Journal, December 26. UNODC (2007-2011) Afghanistan opium surveys. Available at: http://www.unodc.org. World Bank (2010) World Development Indicators database. Available at: http://www.worldbank.org. World Trade Organization (2010) International Trade Statistics 2010. Available at: http:// www.wto.org.

20

Taking stock The social construction of effectiveness Sebastiaan Rietjens, Joseph Soeters, Jacqueline Heeren-Bogers and Christiaan Davids

Introduction Assessing the effectiveness and progress of efforts to ‘build states in order to build peace’ (Call and Wyeth, 2008) is inevitable for several reasons. Politicians want to know what is being achieved with the resources that they have allocated to the state building endeavours abroad. They want to judge the progress that is being made in terms of moral values, cost-efficiency and general effectiveness. Do they get value for the money and the lives that are at stake? This is the issue of political accountability. At another level yet no less important is the issue of command and control. Commanders on all positions in the operations need to know how things are going in order to decide on future actions and the allocation of scarce resources. No longer can such decision-making be left to the intuition of the single commander (Rietjens et al., 2011). Assessing progress and effectiveness may also lead to the improvement of future activities because lessons may be learned from previous activities. A final reason is that measurement can improve the communication between participating military organizations, NGOs and host nation authorities. This can contribute to aligning expectations of the international community with those of the host nation stakeholders, something that has been coined by General David Petraeus as ‘managing expectations’ (Petraeus, 2008). From its very beginning ISAF has made use of systems to evaluate and assess the progress that is being made in Afghan society. Of course, such operational analysis and measurement systems have also guided the operations and activities in Uruzgan. In general, the mission in Uruzgan has pursued the goals that have been set for the ISAF mission in general. These goals include stabilization of safety and public order, humanitarian aid, post-war reconstruction, economic and social rehabilitation, security sector reform and democratization. The Uruzgan Campaign Plan (UCP), the latest strategy document of the TFU, is exemplary in this regard. It stated that

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the TFU campaign objective, within the context of the UCP, as part of ISAF, in partnership with ANSF [Afghan National Security Forces], and in coordination with GIRoA [Government of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan], United Nations Assistance Mission Afghanistan (UNAMA) and the International Community, is to contribute to a reliable and effective government that can bring the government and the people closer together, and is able to provide a stable and secure environment and development progress in Uruzgan, in due course, without ISAF support’ (Van Bemmel et al., 2010).

This chapter addresses the efforts of the TFU to measure its performance as well as the progress that has been made. From the start in 2006 the TFU used an effectsbased approach to operations as its main measurement methodology. To illustrate this approach we focus on one theme of the campaign plan, namely the establishment of the Rule of Law. In addition to the effects-based approach, several other measurement instruments were used. Examples of these include the assessments that were made by The Liaison Organization (TLO), the use of the Afghan Country Stability Picture (ACSP) and pollings. We will review each of these. At the end of this chapter we will discuss the variety of ways to assess the progress in the operation and state building activities. It will show that reaching agreement about the effectiveness of operations and activities is a highly social process in which all actors need to be involved.

The assessment of effects The effects-based approach to operations (EBAO) is a system that is NATO-wide in use. It formulates objectives in the form of effects to be attained by military actions in cooperation with non-military actors such as host-national and international organizations. Those effects – intended changes in the situation in the area of operations – may occur in any conceivable domain, physical, economic, managerial and psychological (e.g., the sense of security among the population). They may result both from purely military and not so purely military activities, such as civil-military cooperation, psychological operations or economic development. In general, EBAO seeks to create a holistic picture of the operational environment to enhance military planning, the conduct of operations and the assessment of the efficacy of those operations (Prescott, 2008). To measure the effects EBAO differentiates between measures of performance that intend to answer the question ‘Are the actions being executed as planned?’ and measures of effect that address the question ‘Was the intended new system state – in fact: the desired effect – created?’ Each effect may require multiple measures of effects to fully capture the changes in system states, while each measure of effects may require different measures of performance. Measures of performance and measures of effects are closely related, but they are not identical.

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In order to categorize and order the measures of performance and effects, the Uruzgan Campaign Plan identified several Reconstruction & Development (R&D) themes, in which progress was desired (see Figure 20.1). These R&D themes correspond with the eight pillars of the Afghan National Development Strategy, with the exception that the ‘governance’ pillar was further split into ‘governance’ and ‘rule of law’. The R&D themes – in fact societal domains requiring policy development – were laid down in an intellectual framework, together with ‘disablers’, hampering and, ‘enablers’, enhancing the progress on the R&D themes. Figure 20.1 Intellectual framework of Uruzgan Campaign Plan (TFU, 2010)1

The process of implementing EBAO contains several phases. The first phase deals with defining desired effects and establishing thresholds to be surpassed. In the second stage data are being collected for the measures of performance and effects. In the third phase assessments are conducted to ascertain to which extent desired effects have been attained. In the following section we will illustrate this process focusing on the way the R&D theme of the rule of law has been assessed in Uruzgan.

Assessing progress in the rule of law The Afghan National Development Strategy states that the Afghan society is in need of rebuilding and strengthening the existing formal legal system. This system

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dates back to colonial times and has been influenced by the Marxist regime during the Soviet era. Important and still existing laws, such as those dealing with criminal offences, were established in the 1970s. During the Taliban dominance the traditional Islamic law, the Sharia, has gained considerable significance. Currently it can be seen as an informal, practical system of law that is highly influential. Formal laws and procedures may not contradict Islamic law. This latter law system is criticized internationally among others because of its lack of equal gender rights (Scholtens, 2007). Given its significance in creating public order and safety in society, the rule of law sector is a crucial condition for stabilizing Afghanistan (Tondini, 2007). Hence, it is a main point of attention in the Afghan National Development Strategy. In the Master Plan that was written in the beginning of Mission Uruzgan the rule of law was one of the 23 effects that were to be achieved by the TFU and international partners. To measure progress with respect to this effect two measures of effects were defined: (1) the rate of criminality and (2) the perception of security (by the population). The Master Plan further emphasized that it was not the task of TFU to establish law enforcement by itself. Instead law enforcement had to be implemented by Afghan organizations. The TFU would assist in the development of these organizations, typically the judicial system and the Afghan National Police (ANP). Despite this seemingly common notion of the meaning of the rule of law, many different definitions and interpretations were in fact in place. Within the TFU definitions of the scope of the rule of law varied considerably. While the specialists in the first rotation of TFU did not consider legal infrastructure, such as court buildings and prisons, to be part of the rule of law, later rotations did (Schreuder, 2010). As a TFU legal specialist said: One of the functional specialists focused on three principal points: law enforcement, governmental compliance with their own laws and predictable and efficient rulings. Another functional specialist focused on the three C’s: courts, cops and corrections.2

The different definitions and perceptions among TFU staff had one thing in common: they differed from the local perception of the rule of law. Like in many regions elsewhere in Afghanistan, tribal shuras, community elders, mullahs, individual government officials or Taliban courts solve most disputes and disagreements in an informal way (TLO, 2010). The formal state-oriented legal system is largely absent with only about 20% of all judges in place. An issue related to this is the inaccessibility of the official government, including the courts and judges, mainly caused by the insecurity of the area. This renders the informal justice system fast, cheap and understandable for the population, but it can also lead to measures that are not compliant with the formal law. The eradication of poppy is another exemplary case to illustrate the problems that resulted from the different perceptions (Donkersloot et al., 2011). Eradication

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was an important pillar of the National Drug Control Strategy. And since the TFU was ultimately there to support the Afghan government they were also supposed to support eradication. The Dutch government, however, has never been very positive towards this short-term focused and unpopular instrument: it can, particularly in isolation and without alternatives, not offer a long-term solution and it highly contradicts the hearts-and-minds approach and Afghan reconstruction.3 The Dutch government argued that ISAF troops were not tasked to destroy drugs. The Task Force Uruzgan therefore did not want to spend expensive military capacity on it. With this attitude the Dutch contradicted the US and the UK who were propagating eradication. TFU’s acquaintance with this informal legal system was hampered as hardly any written records of administrative processes are kept in Afghanistan (Davids and Soeters, 2009). Besides, TFU personnel – again because of security reasons – did not have much opportunity to be physically present at the informal sessions that were intended to render justice. Despite relatively large numbers of interpreters hired by TFU, there were also problems of language-related interpretation (Hoedemaekers and Soeters, 2009). Given all these difficult circumstances, most TFU practitioners believed that they would not be capable of changing the informal system towards the western-style formal system of law. The practitioners also agreed that it would take years, maybe even a generation, before effects with respect to the rule of law could be measured. A consequence of this was raised by one of the legal functional specialists: Politicians don’t have enough patience to invest in the rule of law because the next elections are within four years time.

Despite the variation in definitions of what the rule of law in fact is, TFU had to collect data in order to ascertain possible progress in the development of the legal domain. For that, the TFU needed input from different sources. Most of the information was provided by the PRT where the functional specialists – the civilian legal experts – operated. During their deployments these functional specialists conducted assessments on various aspects of the rule of law. These assessments included the prison in Tarin Kowt, the provincial and district courts and the offices of the district attorneys. A major problem related to the functional specialists was their short stay in theatre. On average they were only deployed for 2-3 months. One legal expert phrased this as follows: It is like a kind of relay: some matters are being picked up and in a couple of months taken to a higher level. But the successor can have a different specialism and wants to aim at other matters. Besides that there wasn’t always immediate succession so the handover-takeover often only consists of leaving behind a report.

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Furthermore, the collection of data took place by means of the patrols that were conducted by TFU. Many soldiers, however, lacked clear training and assignments to assess the developments in the region. Although there was often no data collection protocol before an operation or patrol started, field personnel were asked to provide specific information after coming back. Hence, after action reviews frequently did not produce the data required to provide the specific measures of effects in the domain of the rule of law, nor in any other domain distinguished in the various R&D themes. There was no clear linkage between the different people within the TFU that were involved in measuring the developments in the rule of law. As part of the planning branch of the TFU the operational analysts were tasked with the analysis of the measurement process. They, however, had little contact with the legal functional specialists. TFU also had only limited contact with the NGOs operating in the province. A large number of TFU personnel experienced the assessments as bureaucratic red tape. Consequently, they sometimes just did not report anything if they did not have the opportunity or did not see the necessity. It seems that, from bottom to top, the TFU was inundated with information requests, often in the form of situational reports or structured lists, asking for the same information in many cases. These requests were sometimes met by duplicating the same information. The earlier mentioned operational analysts were tasked to analyze the actions and corresponding effects. This was mostly done using quantitative data like numbers of prisons, prisoners, judges and public prosecutors. The reliability of these numbers, however, was questionable as many people entered and left Uruzgan province. To fill this gap one of the methods they used was MARVEL4, a modelling technique by which qualitative data were quantified to measure effects. The presence of many different actors hampered the analysis of the effects. Therefore, finding a causal relationship between actions and the effects or outcomes was difficult. To establish causality (essentially: action A results in outcome B) requires that very specific, in fact impossible, conditions be met. Hence, in an environment such as Uruzgan there are huge difficulties to determine outcomes and identify causal relationships between these and an organization’s actions. This phenomenon is not unique for Uruzgan. In Iraq, a commander of an American military unit observed, even if we can successfully measure an outcome, it’s extremely hard to know what caused the outcome. There are so many things happening at once that causal relationships are next to impossible to identify. There is a certain amount of guessing and operational art in measuring succes’ (Glenn and Gayton, 2008).

Measuring the effects was further hampered by the different timeframes of the actors involved. Rotations of the TFU lasted four to six months and initially the overall deployment was to last only for two years; it was only later prolonged for

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an additional two years. Meanwhile, many NGOs committed themselves for five or more years. This implied that the assessments often were not in sync with one another, creating different opinions about the question what ‘reasonable’ progress in a certain time period actually is. The last step of the process was for the operational analyst to deliver the results to the TFU commander. At the end of every rotation an Intermediate Assessment Report was drawn up describing the development of the situation on the different effects, either positive or negative. The assessment of an effect was illustrated using a coloured scrollbar ranging from poor to good. The reports were to be used by the commander to decide which military actions where to be carried out or to reallocate some of its resources. Most commanders, however, realized that this measurement process had many constraints, several of which were already indicated previously. According to the respondents, the information of the Intermediate Assessment Reports was therefore mostly used for general statistics rather than for specific command and control purposes.

External sources providing indications of progress in Uruzgan In addition to the data that were produced by the operational analysts with the EBAO methodology, there were several other sources reporting on the progress that was made in Afghanistan and Uruzgan. The next section provides an overview of three external sources, namely The Afghan Country Stability Picture, the assessments of The Liaison Office and the pollings. The Afghan Country Stability Picture (ACSP) is a geospatial information system of which the mapping system is connected to a database that provides countrywide information about reconstruction and development activities in Afghanistan (Davids, 2011). It holds information on projects ranging from the reconstruction of roads, bridges, dams and schools to the development and introduction of basic health packages in Afghanistan. To this end, information of the Afghan government, donors, provincial reconstruction teams and other international and nongovernmental organizations is used. The ACSP’s primary purpose is to enable widespread situational awareness and coordination throughout the Afghan government, NATO and the development and governance community to align and assess the strategic programmes in Afghanistan. It is a tool to support the comprehensive approach, which is updated through NATO officials. These officials use more than 140 different sources, such as Provincial Reconstruction Teams, USAID and the Afghan Government, to gather information on R&D projects in Afghanistan. In 2008, a website was launched where different stakeholders can analyze and consult ACSP data through the Internet. The ACSP database consists of three main categories of data that are combined in one database: CIMIC-projects (i.e., the projects of ISAF units), projects of the

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Afghan Ministry of Rural Rehabilitation and Development (MRRD), and the projects of USAID. The individual project records are updated using 25 variables, including information on the duration of a project, the costs, the location and whether or not an Afghan implementing partner was involved. A first analysis of this database has shown that since 2004 the number of projects in Afghanistan has increased in a spectacular manner, spreading from the capital city Kabul. Figure 20.2 ASCP overview CIMIC projects

Most projects revolve around infrastructure and natural resources, agriculture and rural development, education, social protection and health. Private sector development in particular has received less attention so far. It also shows that projects are increasingly being completed in a shorter time period, which may indicate some sort of learning effect among the people who initiate and execute the projects. Participation of Afghan partners is on the rise, but still almost 50% of the projects know no participation of host-national organizations, which most of the times seems related to insufficient security. These analyses relate to the situation in the whole of Afghanistan (Davids, 2011). In order to be at grips with the developments in Uruzgan specifically, the Dutch government granted an Afghan NGO, the so-called Liaison Office (TLO), the assignment to provide a full assessment of the situation in Uruzgan. Two reports were produced by TLO. The first was published in 2009 after three years of opera-

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tions and the second just after the withdrawal of the TFU in summer 2010. The TLO reports cover a wide variety of issues that are presented in three different clusters: (1) socio-economic development and reconstruction, (2) governance and rule of law and (3) insecurity and the insurgency. To collect the data for its research TLO made extensive use of local researchers. These were able to conduct a huge number of interviews among local leaders (both formal and informal), NGOs, Afghan National Security Forces and ‘ordinary’ Uruzgani citizens. In their introductory note, TLO clearly stated that, as many other actors were operating in Uruzgan (most notably troops and agencies from the United States and Australia) ‘changes and achievements in Uruzgan cannot be attributed to the Dutch government alone’. With respect to assessing effectiveness, the TLO-report (2010) states the following: ‘there are very few “hard facts” in Afghanistan in general and Uruzgan in particular. The last census was conducted in 1979, and many statistics, especially those linked to government resources, are manipulated. For example, some departments may obtain more funds from the central government if they artificially increase the number of teachers or police on their payroll’. This remark does not provide a lot of confidence with respect to the reliability of the information on the progress made in the region. A final observation is that TLO considers four years to be a short time for measuring impact on economic development and governance. They urge acknowledgement of the seeds the Dutch have sown, even though they were not able to stay long enough to reap the fruits of their work. On the progress itself the final assessment (TLO, 2010) summarized: The Dutch have brought positive change to Uruzgan through a comprehensive “3D” engagement approach (development, diplomacy/governance, and defence/ security), that emphasized “development where possible”, “force where necessary”, capacity-building of Afghan National Security Forces, and engagement of key community leaders. The Dutch targeted their efforts on the three more populated districts of Tarin Kot, Deh Rawud and Chora. Today Afghan government and non-governmental actors have a greater presence in these regions and as a result residents have better access to resources. In the four remaining districts of Uruzgan (Char China1, Gizab, Khas Uruzgan, and Chenartu) US and Australian Special Forces secured a continued but very limited Afghan government presence. In these areas the Dutch implemented an “under the radar” development approach to reach the population. Limited resources, however, did not allow for assisting in the improvement of governance.

At the level of concrete development projects, serious progress has been made in the agricultural sector (increased availability of e.g. improved seeds, fertilizers, and agricultural training), in the health sector (doubling of medical posts, more – also female – health workers and resources), in education (more schools and school enrolment in all districts), with respect to the media (from three to five broadcast stations) and the general female presence in public life including provincial politics.

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Figure 20.3 MRA polling Afghanistan-wide

Additionally, parts of a large traffic road between the capital city, Tarin Kowt, and another main city, Chora, were constructed and opened for the public in the summer of 2010 (TLO, 2010; Rietjens, 2011). All these projects can be regarded as considerable improvements of the general situation in Uruzgan province, both in the public and the private domain. Even though reporting of these projects is invaluable, it does not suffice to gain a comprehensive picture of what is going on in the local society. In Western societies the instrument of polling has become indispensable in shaping the political agenda and evaluating the impact and appreciation of policy programmes among the general population. The importance of the ‘general feeling among the people’ can hardly be overestimated. This applies to the West as much as it does for Afghanistan. For that reason many pollings have been conducted nationwide in Afghanistan. However, because of security risks the province of Uruzgan has often been left out in such pollings. There is one polling institute called MRA, however, that conducts the Afghanistan Nationwide Quarterly Assessment Research including Uruzgan. In its research, MRA questions respondents on a number of issues with regard to security, governance and development. It samples over 5,500 households in districts covering almost 600 locations in Afghanistan’s 34 provinces. This means that on average per province 160 interviews are conducted: on average 80 male and 80 female. An example of the outcomes of the survey is portrayed in Figure 20.3. This excerpt of the research shows the perception of the local respondents regarding the security situation in their area. As mentioned, improving this perception was one of the aims of TFU. In the province of Uruzgan, the perception of security is rated in the lowest category, namely less than 25% of the respondents rates his or her security situation as good. Figure 20.3 also shows that a majority of the people believes

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that an improvement of security contributes most to an increase of quality of life.. In sum, the data provided by the pollings provide a wealth of in-depth information on the local situation.

The social construction of effectiveness From our review of the methods that are in use to ascertain the effectiveness and the progress in Uruzgan it becomes clear that there is no single way of judging the developments. Each way of approaching the issue of effectiveness is coloured by the interests of the organization who assigns – and in fact pays for – the studies and measurements. Each organization pays to know what it wants to know. The effectsbased approach by the military revolves around military actions and the immediate impact thereof. Developmental agencies are predominantly interested in projects that are run by themselves. The United Nations report on casualties among the local population more than any other agency would do. Hence, there is a wealth of information, which is good. But not all information seems reliable or the result of coordinated action and shared perceptions among the Western actors. Nor does the information seem to align to one big picture, in which cause-and-effects mechanisms can be discerned as effortless. In general, there does not seem to be enough structure in the design of performance measurement and even among the Western organizations there is too much ambiguity and lack of mutual understanding. Clearly, assessing the effectiveness of the attempts to build peace by building the Afghan state is not an easy job to do. But perhaps there is an even more fundamental problem. The idea that one can easily reshape Afghan society according to Western ideas is too simplistic. In modern history social engineering – e.g. large scale city planning in Brazil, collectivization of rural areas in Tanzania – has been tried over and over again, and often to no avail. Too often such planning endeavours have failed because they did not recognize the importance of local customs and practical knowledge; too often those plans were the result of ‘state simplifications’ (Scott, 1998). This problem seems to emerge in Afghanistan, too, and it seems to do so in a dual form. First, there is the problem that the administrative styles in the country are different from what is commonly accepted in the Western hemisphere (Davids and Soeters, 2009). Even though the host-nation (national/provincial/local) governments tend to follow the Western administrative style to some degree, the traditional style of governance in the country is less formal, less documented and less bureaucratic, so to speak. There are fewer written accounts of what is happening in the field of justice and the rule of law, in financial matters and in processes of policy implementation in general. Second, and perhaps more importantly, there may not even be full agreement on which results should be achieved. There are many ideas about which direction the country should be going in, and not of all them are heard in the still fairly immature democratic institutions of the country.

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For both reasons it seems appropriate to enhance the ‘local footprint’ in all attempts to reshape the Afghan society by the Western community (Rietjens et. al., 2009). As much as everyday knowledge is socially constructed – next to objective realities there are subjective realities in human life (Berger and Luckman, 1967) – effectiveness is a social construct. Yet, it is a construct of whose social character we are not always aware. In the Afghan and Uruzgan society, this often implies that the Western actors assume that the goals and the desired effects that have been formulated as well as the performance measurement systems that have been designed are objectively true, valid or valuable. Getting host nationals involved in this process may help fighting this assumption. One way of doing this may be provided by the so-called Soft Systems Methodology (Checkland and Scholes, 1990). This is an approach that aims to assemble all stakeholders in a process of solving unstructured problems in a fuzzy social environment. In Afghanistan this would imply the participation of representatives of the host-nation’s institutions, associations and social movements of all feathers including the ones that are not very well liked, the potential spoilers. With this diversity of views and interests a process of dialoguing may emerge leading to a shared understanding – a conceptual model so to speak – of what needs to be done for whom and by whom, with which resources and with which goals in mind. Such processes incorporating practical knowledge and local customs need to be engaged on all administrative levels, in fact on all levels where people meet. Of course this is easier said than done. Such processes will be difficult and time consuming. But another ‘state simplification’ is too costly: in terms of casualties on all sides, in terms of financial matters, in fact in terms of efforts of any kind. Afghanistan, Uruzgan, cannot do without such dialogue.

Notes 1 ‘LN’ means ‘local national’. 2 A functional specialist is a reserve officer with expert knowledge on a civil issue, in this case on the Rule of Law. The following relies on a study reported in a bachelor thesis by cadet-officer Floris Schreuder (2010). 3 Although the Dutch Minister of Defence at first plead for an aggressive eradication approach, the Minister of Development Cooperation resisted this heavily. This latter vision mostly dominated during the contacts with Afghan authorities. 4 Method to Analyze Relations between Variables using Enriched Loops.

References Berger, P. and. Luckman, Th. (1967) The Social Construction of Reality. A Treatise in the Sociology of Knowledge. London: Penguin.

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Call, Ch.T. and Wyeth, V. (2008) Building States to Build Peace. Boulder: Lynn Rienner Publishers. Checkland, P. and Scholes, J. (1990) Soft Systems Methodology in Action. New York: John Wiley & Sons. Clancy, J. and Crosset, C. (2007) Measuring Effectiveness in Irregular Warfare. Parameters 37(2), 88-100. Davids, C. (2011) Performance Measurement during Military Operations: Studies from Afghanistan. Tilburg: University of Tilburg. Davids, C. and Soeters J. (2009) Payday in the Afghan National Army: from Western administrative liabilities to local realities. In: Caforio, G. (ed.) Advances in Military Sociology: Essays in Honor of Charles C. Moskos, Part A. Bingley: Emerald, 285-303. Donkersloot, E., Rietjens, S.J.H. and Klep, C. (2011) Going Dutch: counter narcotics in the Afghan province of Uruzgan. Military Review (September-October), 44-51. Glenn, R.W. and Gayton S.J. (2008) Intelligence operations and metrics in Iraq and Afghanistan. Washington: National Defense Research Institute. Hoedemaekers, I. and Soeters J. (2009) Interaction rituals and language mediation during peace operations: experiences from Afghanistan. In: Caforio, G. (ed.) Advances in Military Sociology: Essays in Honor of Charles C. Moskos, Part A. Bingley: Emerald, 329-352. Petraeus, D.H. (2008) Multi-National Force-Iraq Commander’s Counterinsurgency guidance. Military Review 88(5): 2-4. Prescott, J.M. (2008) The Development of NATO EBAO Doctrine: Clausewitz’s Theories and the Role of Law in an Evolving Approach to Operations. Carlisle: Pennsylvania State University. Rietjens, S.J.H. (2011) Between expectations and reality: the Dutch engagement in Uruzgan. In: Hynek, N. and Marton, P. (eds.) NATO’s provincial reconstruction teams in a comparative perspective. London: Routledge, 65-87. Rietjens, S.J.H., Bollen, M.T.I.B., Khalil, M. and Wahidi, S.F. (2009) Enhancing the footprint: stakeholders in Afghan reconstruction. Parameters 39(1), 22-39. Rietjens, S.J.H., Soeters, J. and Klumper, W. (2011) Measuring the immeasurable? The Effects-based approach in comprehensive peace operations. International Journal of Public Administration 34, 329-338. Scholtens, G. (2007) Taskforce Uruzgan op zoek naar het recht (Taskforce Uruzgan searching for justice). Soesterberg: Aspekt. Schreuder, F.C.A. (2010) Prestatiemeting in Uruzgan: Een inzicht in de Rule of Law (Performance measurement in Uruzgan: Insights from the rule of law). Breda: Faculty of Military Sciences. Scott, J.C. (1998) Seeing Like a State. How Certain Schemes to Improve the Human Condition Have Failed. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. The Liaison Office (TLO) (2010) The Dutch Engagement in Uruzgan: 2006-2010, A TLO SocioPolitical Assessment. Kabul: TLO. Tondini, M. (2007) Rebuilding the system of justice in Afghanistan: a preliminary assessment. Journal of Intervention and Statebuilding 1(3), 333-354. Van Bemmel, I.E., Eikelboom, A.R. and Hoefsloot, P.G.F. (2010) Comprehensive en iterative planning in Uruzgan. Militaire Spectator 179, 196-209.

21

It’s not over till it’s over Sharing memories at the home front Manon Andres and Natasja Rietveld

Introduction Deployments, such as the ones to Uruzgan, do not end when service members return home. For an extensive period of time, they have performed their jobs in a hazardous environment, with ambushes and violent attacks and the risk of being wounded or even killed. They may also have witnessed violation of human rights of the local population. It is not always easy to ‘turn the switch’ to a whole new reality, such as a safe environment like home. Meanwhile, family members have also lived their own experiences. After reunion, it is vital to bridge the gap between the two different worlds of experiences and reality. In particular, sharing memories contributes to that bridge. It sounds so easy, but why can this be so hard? This chapter addresses the issue of sharing memories from the perspectives of both service members and their spouses, starting with casuistry. The chapter proceeds with a brief description of separation and homecoming experiences. Subsequently, we address couples’ communications and sharing experiences during and after being physically separated and unravel various themes that may hinder sharing memories, e.g., feelings of guilt and shame. Finally, we describe why it is so important to share memories in rebuilding a common life and world of shared experiences. This chapter is grounded in general literature and relates that to the mission in Uruzgan by using empirical data collected during recent research of both authors, who surveyed and interviewed veterans, service members, and their families who were confronted with military deployment. Andres (2010) surveyed Dutch service members and their partners before, during, and after military deployment, including a deployment to Afghanistan (among them, a number of 215, 117, and 107 couples participated in the study before, during, and after a deployment to Uruzgan). Additionally, 103 interviews have been held with a subsample of the partners. Rietveld (2009) studied guilt and shame among 1,170 Dutch veterans of fourteen peace operations, including deployments to Afghanistan, based on a survey. The data and quotations used in this chapter represent the experiences of Dutch service members

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and veterans who served in Uruzgan and the experiences of their partners, regarding the topics discussed. Service member When I came home, different conflicting feelings raided me at the same time. On the one hand, I felt really happy to see my wife and kids again and to close them into my arms. I had missed them so much; I even felt homesick sometimes. But on the other hand, I also felt sad and confused. I observed, like an outsider, how my family lived their daily lives, laughed about things I didn’t know, made jokes I didn’t understand. I could not recognize our shared life anymore. My children had grown up and become more autonomous. My wife managed everything successfully, including the things I managed before the deployment. Rules regarding upbringing had changed, just as the content of our parental discussions. A new feeling came over me. It felt like homesickness, but now I missed my comrades and some locals I had good contact with in the mission area. I missed the way of life during the deployment, including the daily rush and excitement. I also missed people depending on me, the way they did during my work over there.

Partner I was so happy to see him again. But we really needed to readjust to each other. I got used to a life without him and suddenly he was also home again. We had been separated from each other for months and unnoticeably we had each built our own lives. We had a very intense contact while he was there, which was instantly over when he returned home. Sometimes, I tell him: you can better be deployed, at least then you talk. I have the feeling that he is ashamed of something. When I ask him to talk about his experiences, he turns red and gets angry. Often, he just walks away; says it’s not important or that I won’t understand. He just does not want to talk about it.

Separation and homecoming The casuistry illustrates a service member’s and spouse’s experiences after they had been separated for months as a result of the service member’s deployment abroad. Although these are the experiences of one couple, they are not unique. Being relieved that service members return home safely from their mission abroad, military families generally celebrate the homecomings. However, the happiness is frequently followed by a reality shock and the process of reintegration and adapta-

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tion has only just begun. After all, homecomings physically reunite families, but are they instantly reunited emotionally and socially too?

The impact of long-term separation

The long-term separation as a result of military deployment often means a turbulent time for both service members and their families. Deployments require service members’ and families’ adaptations to different routines, both during the separation and following reunion. Service members are sent to a different and often hazardous environment in which they are surrounded by different people and engage in different routines. They are temporarily living in a different environment and culture and may be exposed to violent attacks, witnessing misery, poverty, and the consequences of violence towards civilians. Their partners who remain at home typically assume primary responsibility for all household and parenting tasks, whilst continuing regular responsibilities at work, or school. They have to manage life events without the direct support of their spouse. They often fear for the safety and welfare of the service members and miss their comrade and beloved one. The multiple roles partners need to fulfil during the absence of service members and the anxiety regarding their well-being in the (post-)conflict area are likely to put stress on families. Researchers generally have found that the impact of deployment negatively affects health and relationship outcomes (e.g., Burrell et al., 2010; Moelker and Van der Kloet, 2003). However, aspects with more positive connotations for both service members and family members have also been noticed, including feelings of freedom, independence, self-sufficiency, and psychological and personality growth.

Homecoming experiences

Hill (1945), who’s pioneering work on wartime separation and reunion has laid the foundation of much of the research in the field, argued that the homecoming has often been anticipated as ‘a golden dream’ (p.32) with idealized images and high expectations. Later studies also demonstrated that one tends to romanticize reunion (e.g., Wood et al., 1995). After the first few days, usually characterized by ‘emotional intoxication’ (Hill, 1945, p.33), ‘physical closeness’ (Wood et al., 1995, p. 225), or honeymoon period (e.g., Drummet et al., 2003), couples find themselves faced with a process of reintegration, reorganization, and adaptation. Service members may feel redundant and unaccepted as a result of their partners’ self-sufficiency and need for independence, developed during the service members’ absences. They might find themselves bothered by the changes that have taken place in the family or may feel the need to bring in some discipline in the household. Returned service members may also feel a lack of excitement or feel unable to talk about their war experiences (Hill, 1945). Partners, in turn, may feel compelled to relinquish some of their freedom and authority as returned service members want to resume their role in the family. Among the surveyed service members who had returned from Uruzgan and their partners, roughly one in ten service members had difficulties readjusting

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to their partner, while one in three partners experienced difficulties growing accustomed to the returned service members again (Andres, 2010). In spite of these somewhat struggling reconciliation processes, positive reunion experiences have also been identified, including mutual feelings of pride and appreciation and greater feelings of closeness (e.g., Rosen and Durand, 2000; Wood et al., 1995). After her husband’s return from Uruzgan, an interviewed spouse said: ‘You just feel what you miss when it’s gone. I appreciate it more now. The things we do together’. Roughly one third of the surveyed partners and service members reported enjoying the presence of their loved one even more than before the deployment (Andres, 2010), supporting the notion that separations can also cause couples to realize the value of being together.

Keeping in touch while being separated How separated are couples’ lives actually in times of military deployment? Although deployments physically separate service members from their families, various means of communication enable them to remain interconnected and to maintain their emotional bond.

The importance of communication

Researchers have emphasized the importance of communication, especially in times of stress and separation. During military deployments, communication boosts morale for both service members and those left at home, it eases the transition when service members return home, and it is vital in sustaining intimate and wellfunctioning relationships (Bell et al., 1999; Booth, et al., 2007; Moelker and Van der Kloet, 2003). Some have argued that communication is so important that it may even be the only way for a couple’s relationship to survive a stressful event (Broma et al., 1996), such as a military deployment. Communication has been defined as a means to manage the stress of separation (Wiens and Boss, 2006), given that staying in touch lowers distress caused by not having information about the welfare of a loved one. By frequent communications service members and families can keep each other informed about what is happening at home or in the mission area, it can reduce concerns and isolation, and it therefore can be critical to the well-being of both service members and their families. Nonetheless, it has been suggested that when long-distance conversations do not allow for in-depth sharing of experiences and are about practical rather than emotional matters, it may hinder resolving disagreements and intensify a sense of separateness and loneliness (Vormbrock, 1993). Researchers studying the use of telephones in military operations have defined telephone use as a mixed blessing (Applewhite and Segal, 1990; Ender, 1995). While on the one hand positive effects have been shown, on the other hand certain negative effects are identifiable. First of all, communication problems can be quite stressful (Bell, et al., 1999). Furthermore, frequent communications can be expensive,

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might be a security risk (if messages are intercepted), can possibly demoralize service members if they receive bad news from home, may result in maintaining family roles over the telephone, and might distract service members from their work.

Using modern ways of communication to keep each other involved

In former times, service members and their families had to rely on the use of letters, which could be en route for several days or even weeks. Mail delivery was uncertain and irregular. Modern means of communication allow for making contact with either the homeland or the mission area more easily, more quickly, and more frequently. Even in real time. Although ‘black holes’ sometimes interfere, that means that all communication is shut down for a certain period of time. While these black holes may be stressful to some extent – as one knows something has happened – family members are confident that if they are not notified first and personally, their relative was not involved in the incident. The study of Andres (2010) revealed that surveyed service members deployed to Uruzgan and their family members stayed in touch on a regular basis. Interestingly, despite modern Internet facilities, telephone communication remains most popular. An interviewed partner explained: ‘I find it most important to just hear his voice. Then I know it’s all right’. Email communication was also frequently used, followed by MSN Messenger (an Internet facility), letters, and packages. Text messages were scarcely sent to and from Uruzgan, mainly because cell phones were barely in use because of security reasons. The great majority communicated with each other by telephone or email at least once a week, some even at least once a day. An army wife said: ‘It’s important to remain a little informed about what’s going on inside the other, or he will return and you will be completely drifted apart’. Perhaps more interesting than the frequency and means of communication is the interpersonal nature of couples’ communications and their strategies to avoid becoming alienated. Among the surveyed couples, partners at home generally communicated more openly than service members did. While three out of four partners shared all their experiences, one in three service members did. Most service members and partners discussed things they felt sore about and asked how the other felt. Interestingly, while little more than half of the partners asked service members advice regarding matters at home, the great majority of the service members reported giving such advice. This implies that service members, while being deployed, desire to maintain their family role and be part of decision-making processes (even more than their partners need them to). Furthermore, only one in ten partners kept bad news from the service members and nearly a quarter avoided things that might upset them. Among service members, these numbers were clearly higher (i.e., four in ten and nearly half respectively), possibly pointing to a more protective attitude towards the home front. An interviewed partner said: ‘I told him a lot over the telephone. He wanted to hear much from me; he wasn’t able and allowed to tell much himself.’ While service members deployed to Uruzgan were not able and allowed

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to share all their experiences, partners had other motives to keep things from their beloved. For example this partner, who said: ‘Certain things I keep from him. Things he can’t really solve right now. He’ll only seriously worry.’ Another said: ‘I filter out the news I tell him.’ Or: ‘I don’t bother him with things he cannot deal with right now.’ A fourth partner shared: ‘I am inclined to keep bad news from him. Certain things I put into words nicer than they really are. I avoid him to worry. My partner doesn’t share his work experiences with me, but he does share the feelings he has with it.’ Most of the surveyed service members and partners felt happy and strengthened after they had been in touch with each other.

Changes in communication after reunion During her husband’s absence, an interviewed spouse said: ‘I think it is a luxury to be able to communicate every day. But just the physical contact makes your bond and that is not possible for a while.’ The reunion makes physical contact possible again, but at the same time often brings an end to the intense contact couples had while being physically separated, by the use of telephone, email, or letters. Service members’ and families’ lives are shared again and the need to communicate as intensely as during the separation has faded away (for instance, physical closeness diminishes the desire and necessity to write elaborate and personal letters and emails to each other). Moreover, where to start to keep each other abreast of what has happened during the last months? A partner described her experiences as follows: ‘We have done a great deal of talking. The first week, we’ve plumped down on the couch with a cup of coffee and we’ve only talked. He has shown some pictures. At that moment, telling his story was important. He had heard all our reports by email, like the first school day of our daughter. He can share his experiences with me. I listen, ask questions now and then, am all ears; just let him talk.’ This spouse made clear that talking and listening was significant for them. Other couples went on holidays to ease the reunion, just as this partner who said: ‘He has shared a lot with me during that vacation. Genuinely about his feelings there. It was so valuable.’ But it may not always be that easy. For instance, for this partner, who said: ‘My husband did tell me his experiences, but not his feelings with it. I tried to share my story but he doesn’t understand. Then I just stop. Right now, it doesn’t work’. Just as during the deployment, after reunion, surveyed service members talked significantly less elaborately about their experiences than their partners did. Little more than half of the service members shared all their experiences after their return from Uruzgan, while among partners, this was over eight out of ten. An interviewed spouse described how she learned more about her husband’s experiences during parties, when – after a few drinks – he started to talk and told things he had not brought up before. In other families, attention to the deployment decreased after a while as family members were taking up the thread of life. But while family and friends may see it as a closed chapter, service members may still feel the need to talk about it.

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Sharing memories is a two-way process, which may be challenged by several aspects – some of which we describe in more detail in the following section.

Challenges in sharing memories Despite the fact that the recent generation of veterans, like those who served in Afghanistan, are found to communicate more about their experiences than the older generation, that is, veterans of World War II, former Netherlands-India, and New Guinea (Schok, 2009), they can be confronted with difficulties that hamper sharing memories. Different factors can make it difficult for both service members and their family members to share their experiences and with that bridge their temporary separated lives. For instance, as a result of exposure to horrible events, veterans may choose not to share their experiences – because it is too hard for them to talk about it or because they do not want to burden their families with the details, or protect them from worrying about the service member having been there. A veteran explained: ‘You can’t tell them because it’s frightening for them to know that you’ve actually been there’. But also changes in personality, lives, and worldviews, feelings of shame and guilt, and mental health problems can challenge the sharing of experiences.

Personal changes

The experiences in the mission area and at home can change service members and their partners in certain ways. In regard to service members, exposure to violence and threats, but also witnessing misery, fear, violence, and poverty can change ideas in respect to life values as well as their worldview and self-image. A service member said: ‘You’re a totally different person because of your experiences’. Based on her study among Dutch veterans of peace operations and war missions, Schok (2009: 102) describes how veterans can feel caught between two worlds after coming home. ‘They witnessed humans being dangerous, cruel, unreliable, egoistic, cowardice, and merciless. After homecoming the ‘old’ world is astonishing by having so much wealth and comfort’. Returned service members may feel lost between two worlds and disconnected from the world at home. They can have the impression that their family and friends do not understand them and vice versa (Schok, 2009). The study of Rietveld (2009) on guilt and shame among veterans of peace operations demonstrated that 62 percent of the veterans who served in Afghanistan experienced a changed view of humanity as a result of their mission. Furthermore, 31 percent reported changes in self-image, while 19 percent did not know if their self-image had changed as a result of their deployment. One of them illustrated the changes as follows: ‘Many people say that I seem and sound older than I am (experiences I think)’. Another veteran shared: ‘You take other decisions based on your experience. And thus, you view yourself also differently.’ Others reported to have become more

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mature, more calm, and to feel more responsible for (the feelings of ) others, as a result of their deployment to Afghanistan. While little more than half of the surveyed service members deployed to Uruzgan and their partners believed that the deployment had changed the service members, over a third of the couples believed that the separation had changed the partners. These changes were more often perceived positively than negatively. Among other things, partners had become stronger, more independent and self-sufficient, living more consciously, being more appreciative, and more lively. Personal changes of partners that were also observed but valued less, concerned, among other things, being emotional more rapidly, being irritated, and being restless. Because of the changes (e.g., in personality and attitudes) observed after reunion, service members and their partners may find themselves detached and estranged from each other. Their bond may not easily be re-established, they may feel unable to understand each other, and efforts may be needed to find common ground again.

Feelings of guilt and shame

Difficulties in sharing memories may not only be caused by personal changes, or changes in life views, life values, and appreciations. When deployment-related experiences have been positive and one’s contributions mainly successful, sharing memories will be much easier and more desired than when being involved in inadequate actions, having experienced powerlessness, and feelings of failure. While successful experiences cause pride and enhancement of self-esteem, traumatic experiences, which involve powerlessness, loss of control, and failure, are more likely to result in feelings of guilt and shame. In particular, shame-related experiences are very painful. When a person is traumatized, shame significantly contributes to interpersonal relationship difficulties. One of the behavioural results of shame is avoidance (Dorahy, 2010). Moreover, shame can cause several mental health problems (Harrigan, 2007; Leskela et al., 2002; Sherman, 2010). Ashamed people feel worthless and want to hide and sharing memories will initially be avoided. The study on guilt and shame among veterans of peace operations showed that 15 percent of the veterans who served in Afghanistan felt ashamed and 23 percent felt guilty as a result of deployment-related experiences. Comparing veterans of Afghanistan with veterans of former Yugoslavia (UNPROFOR), former peacekeepers reported feeling more ashamed and guilty as a result of their experiences (28 and 31 percent respectively). When the veterans who served in Afghanistan felt ashamed and/or guilty, these feelings of shame and guilt caused difficulties in daily life for 22 and 27 percent of the veterans respectively. This was among 22 and 32 percent respectively of the former peacekeepers. Eleven percent of the Afghanistan veterans reported shame and 18 percent reported guilt as a result of surviving their mission. Among former peacekeepers, this was 5 and 12 percent respectively. All veterans reported that the most important experiences that cause guilt were related to situations of powerlessness, failure, the inability to stop violence and tragedy, but also lack of respect towards locals. The following examples were described

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by veterans: ‘Witnessing sadness of families and children about their losses’, ‘Inability to prevent that civilians be harmed’, ‘Witnessing results of excessive behaviour or unnecessary use of force’. In response to an open question regarding situations that cause feelings of guilt, a veteran shared that he still felt guilty ‘about a girl that stepped on a mine. I could not come close enough to her because of the presence of more mines. I am still thinking, I should have helped her’. Other research on war veterans also describes ‘I should have done more’ and ‘I should have known better’ guilt (Kubany, 1994). Moreover, many veterans experience profound feelings of guilt as a consequence of surviving the war whilst colleagues perished (Glover, 1984; Lifton, 1973; Sherman, 2010). Previous studies also demonstrate that feelings of guilt and shame are related to painful war memories (Harrigan, 2007; Hendin and Pollinger-Haas, 1991; Kubany, 1994; Kubany et al., 1997; Kubany, et al., 1996; Shatan, 1973) which one usually does not want to share.

Returning home with stress-related symptoms

After returning home, most service members are doing well and look back positively on their deployment (Schok, 2009). But some veterans return home from the mission deeply affected by their experiences. The study of Rietveld (2009) regarding feelings of shame and guilt among veterans showed that 75 percent of the veterans who served in Afghanistan (this was 57 percent among former peacekeepers) reported that their experiences still cause a lot of pain and suffering. The preceding sections described that veterans may avoid sharing memories for different reasons, of which shame is an important one. Having encountered traumatic experiences is another. Such experiences are often attended with feelings of intense fear, helplessness and hopelessness, pain, and horror (Yerkes and Holloway, 1996). As one might withdraw from social interaction and isolate oneself as a result, these experiences and associated feelings and behaviours are likely to affect social functioning and family relationships. Family and friends may not always be able to understand. Getting back a traumatized spouse was among the biggest fears of surveyed partners before they watched service members depart to Uruzgan. Among them this partner, who said: ‘Your biggest fear is: how do they return? (…) That fear is still there: will he be able to piece it together? To express his emotions? I can’t imagine what he has seen and experienced. I sense he’s running out of energy. There is much in his head what may or may not come out.’ This couple found a way to manage: ‘We let each other free. We’ve made good agreements about it: when he wants to share anything with me, he does; when he wants to go into the woods, he just goes.’ Schok (2009) describes differences between veterans with and without deployment-related posttraumatic stress reactions and their ability to share experiences and reconnect with their relatives and friends. The first group more often felt not understood by family and friends. Some of them did not even talk with their loved ones. When talking to others, they experienced that the audience got bored after a while. Veterans without posttraumatic stress reactions were better able to accept when others could not understand their stories. They also were better able to choose

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interested people with whom they shared their experiences. Additionally, the study showed that veterans with stress reactions more often felt disappointed not getting the support they precisely needed (Schok, 2009).

How nostalgia for the deployment can complicate mental homecoming

During military deployment, homesickness is not unfamiliar among most service members. Unlike other feelings, such as fear and anxiety, homesickness is openly discussed (Rietveld, 2009). Interestingly, after returning home, feelings of homesickness seem to change into profound nostalgia for comrades and locals with whom service members have shared their life during the deployment. Particularly when service members have shared impressive and shocking experiences, the bond with comrades (and locals) is strong; sometimes even stronger than they have ever felt with friends or even their spouse. In the mission area, service members, and sometimes locals, form and replace service members’ families. The comradeship that service members experience during deployments is strong and lifelong and not an easily replaceable feeling. We find this in a lot of stories, studies and movies concerning veterans. Even years after their deployment, most veterans miss the bond of brotherhood they experienced during their mission. Because of their shared experiences, sharing memories with comrades and old service colleagues seems much easier than sharing memories with family members. As a service member explained: ‘No one really understands, unless you’ve been there yourself’.

The importance of sharing memories: bridging temporary separated lives Separation, such as a deployment to Uruzgan, temporarily separates the lives of service members and their families. As a result of residing in two different worlds for an extensive period of time, living in unparalleled environments, and experiencing clearly different events, they may experience challenges in finding common ground again after reunion. Sharing memories is vital in bridging the gap between the two different worlds of experiences, but it may be hampered, among other things, by personal changes of service members and their families and feelings of shame and guilt. We described before that the process of reintegration and adaptation is two-sided, that is, not only returned service members have to adapt when they return home, their partners also need to readjust. Among surveyed service members deployed to Uruzgan and their partners, significantly more partners experienced difficulties growing accustomed to the returned service member again than vice versa (Andres, 2010). Few couples reported to have become estranged from each other, while roughly one third of the service members and partners reported enjoying the presence of their loved one even more than before the deployment. On the whole, relationship satisfaction generally dropped significantly over the course of

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the deployment to Uruzgan, but the majority of the couples were still fairly satisfied with their relationship. After statistically controlling for pre-deployment levels of relationship satisfaction (accounting for 33 percent of the variance in relationship satisfaction afterwards), sharing memories after reunion significantly contributes to satisfied relationships (explaining another 25 percent of the variance, which indicates that it is an important factor). Furthermore, sharing experiences and feelings, keeping each other informed and involved, talking and listening both during and after the separation was positively associated with reconciliation processes afterwards, while the frequency of communication was not, suggesting that it is the quality, rather than the quantity of communication that matters. For roughly half of the surveyed couples experiencing a deployment to Uruzgan, things were stabilized within two weeks after reunion. For others it took a little longer, though for the majority of the couples, things were stabilized three months after reunion, which is in accordance with previous research and theory (Moelker and Van der Kloet, 2003; Peebles-Kleiger and Kleiger, 1994; and Vormbrock, 1993). For one in seven of the surveyed couples, things had not been stabilized three months after return. Thus, sharing memories is important for the well-being and well-functioning of relationships between service members and their partners. It prevents getting alienated from each other and helps bridging the gap between the temporary separated lives. Sharing memories with beloved ones is also necessary to regain trust and feelings of safety and self-confidence, particularly after exposure to traumatic events. Exposure to such events means loss of control and meaning, and loss of the notion of living in a beautiful meaningful world (Herman, 2002; Kleber and Brom, 2003). Trust in the ‘goodness of other people’ is destroyed, which makes it difficult to reconnect with people and rebuild trust. However, mentally recovering after trauma is not possible in isolation, but only in relationship with trusted others. In renewed closeness with others, service members and veterans redevelop mental competences, e.g., trust, autonomy, responsibility, and intimacy, which were damaged or distorted by the (traumatic) experience. These competences were originated in relationships with others, and thus must be rebuilt in relationships with others (Herman, 2002). Then, coping with trauma can start.

Sharing, but not unlimitedly

Despite the fact that sharing memories and related emotions are vital for one’s wellbeing, relationships, and coping with trauma, service members and partners should not relieve their feelings and share difficulties with their beloved unlimitedly. This is a difficult topic; what to share without burdening each other? Certain experiences and memories may be too hard to understand (in a safe ordered world). Burdening relatives with these matters may adversely affect their well-being. In some cases it may be enough to just discuss the general nature of events or to only share related emotions. It is a challenge to be open enough and to prevent the other from feeling excluded. But couples should not underestimate each other in what they both can

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handle. Just asking each other what each one can manage may be enough. After all, that also is evidence of real interest for and trust toward each other.

References Andres, M. (2010). Behind Family Lines. Family members’ adaptations to military-induced separations. Ph.D thesis, University of Tilburg. Applewhite, L.W. and Segal, D.R. (1990) Telephone use by peacekeeping troops in the Sinai. Armed Forces & Society 17, 117-126. Bell, D.B., Schumm, W.R., Knott, B. and Ender, M.G. (1999) The desert fax: A research note on calling home from Somalia. Armed Forces & Society 25(3), 509-521. Booth, B., Segal, M.W., Bell, D.B., Martin, J.A., Ender, M.G. and Rohall, D.E. (2007) What we know about Army families: 2007 update: Report prepared for the Family and Morale, Welfare and Recreation Command by Caliber. Burrell, L., Adams, G.A., Durand, D. and Castro, C A. (2010) Families facing the demands of military life: New research directions. In: Bartone, P.T., Pastel R.H. and Vaitkus M.A. (eds.) The 71F advantage: Applying Army research psychology for health and performance gains Washington: National Defense University Press, 373-393. Dorahy, M.J. (2010) The impact of dissociation, shame, and guilt on interpersonal relationships in chronically traumatized individuals: A pilot study. Journal of Traumatic Stress 23(5), 653-656. Drummet, A.R., Coleman, M., and Cable, S. (2003) Military families under stress: Implications for family life education. Family Relations 52(3), 279-287. Ender, M.G. (1995) G.I. phone home: The use of telecommunications by the soldiers of Operation Just Cause. Armed forces & society 21, 435-454. Glover, H. (1984) Survival Guilt and the Vietnam Veteran. Journal of Nervous and Mental Disease 172(7), 393-397. Harrigan, P.J. (2007) Examining the relationship between shame, guilt, attributions, and symptoms of posttraumatic stress disorder among male Vietnam war veterans. Miami: University of Miami. Hendin, H. and Pollinger-Haas, A.P. (1991) Suicide and Guilt as Manifestations of PTSD in Vietnam Combat Veterans. American Journal of Psychiatry 148(5), 586-591. Herman, J.L. (2002) Trauma en herstel. De gevolgen van geweld – van mishandeling thuis tot politiek geweld (Trauma and Recovery. The Consequences of Violence – from Domestic to Policital Violence). Amsterdam: Wereldbibliotheek. Hill, R. (1945) The returning father and his family. Marriage and Family Living 7(2), 31-34. Kleber, R.J. and Brom, D. (2003) Coping with trauma. Theory, prevention and treatment. Swets & Zeitlinger. Kubany, E.S. (1994) A cognitive model of guilt typology in combat-related PTSD. Journal of Traumatic Stress 7(1), 3-19.

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Kubany, E.S., Abueg, F.R., Kilauano, W.L., Manke, F.P. and Kaplan, A.S. (1997). Deployment and Validation of the Sources of Trauma-Related Guilt Survey – War-Zone Version (STRGS-WZ). Journal of Traumatic Stress 10(2), 235-258. Kubany, E.S., Haynes, S.N., Abueg, F.R., Manke, F.P., Brennan, J.M. and Stahura, C. (1996) Deployment and Validation of the Trauma-Related Guilt Inventory (TRGI). Psychological Assessment 8(4), 428-444. Leskela, J., Dieperink, M., and Thuras, P. (2002) Shame and Posttraumatic Stress Disorder. Journal of Traumatic Stress 15(3), 223-226. Lifton, R.J. (1973) Home from the war. Learning from Vietnam Veterans. New York: Other Press. Moelker, R. and Van der Kloet, I.E. (2003) Military families and the armed forces. A two sided affair? In: Caforio, G. (ed.) Handbook of the sociology of the military New York: Kluwer, 201-223. Peebles-Kleiger, M.J.K. and Kleiger, J.H. (1994) Re-integration stress for Desert Storm families: Wartime deployments and family trauma. Journal of Traumatic Stress 7(2), 173-193. Rietveld, N. (2009) De gewetensvolle veteraan. Schuld- en schaamtebeleving bij veteranen van vredesmissies (The Conscientious Veteran. Guilt and Shame among Veterans of Peace Missions). Oisterwijk: Boxpress. Rosen, L.N. and Durand, D.B. (2000) Marital adjustment following deployment. In: Martin, J.A., Rosen L.N. and Sparacino L.R. (eds.) The military family. A practice guide for human service providers. Westport: Praeger, 153-165. Schok, M.L. (2009) Meaning as a mission: making sense of war and peacekeeping. Delft: Uitgeverij Eburon. Shatan, C.F. (1973) The grief of soldiers: Vietnam Combat Veterans´ Self-Help Movement. American Journal of Orthopsychiatry 43(4), 640-653. Sherman, N. (2010) The Untold War. Inside the hearts, minds, and souls of our soldiers. New York London: W.W. Norton & Company. Vormbrock, J.K. (1993) Attachment theory as applied to wartime and job-related marital separation. Psychological Bulletin 114(1), 122-144. Wiens, T.W. and Boss, P. (2006) Maintaining family resiliency before, during, and after military separation. In: Castro, C.A., Adler A.B. and Britt T.W. (eds.) Military life: The psychology of serving in peace and combat. Volume 3: The military family. Westport: Praeger. Wood, S., Scarville, J., and Gravino, K.S. (1995) Waiting wives: Separation and reunion among Army wives. Armed forces & society 21(2), 217-236. Yerkes, S.A. and Holloway, H.C. (1996) War and homecomings: The stressors of war and of returning from war. In: Ursano, R.J. and Norwood, A.E. (eds.) Emotional aftermath of the Persian Gulf War. Veterans, families, communities, and nations. Washington, DC: American Psychiatric Press, 25-42.

22

Books and bikes Noises and voices of veterans Esmeralda Kleinreesink, René Moelker and Rudy Richardson

Introduction There are lots of differences in the way veterans share their stories. Some veterans keep quiet and seldom talk about past experiences from conflict zones. Others are hard to stop when they have commenced their ‘battle’ stories and relentlessly repeat them to the same group of people, family, friends or colleagues. These are the stories in the genre ‘Grandpa is revisiting Balikpapan in Indonesia again’. The stories also differ regarding the audience the narrators are addressing. While some only seek the intimate audience of friends and family, others broadcast their life events to larger audiences, producing ego documents and near literature, or they address political issues trying to reach goals ameliorating veterans’ rights and claims. Psychology teaches us that a very good way to study life stories is to look at their integrative function in life (McAdams, 1996). The integrative function of storytelling, the coherence it offers, is relevant to the construction of an identity, to psychic health, to adaptation of veterans to civilian life after being ‘out there’ and to the political interest of veterans being served by the stories. Therefore, more insight and knowledge into the process of narrating enhances our understanding of the expressive side of veterans. Reason enough to study life stories. In this chapter we will study two groups of veterans who have different ways of broadcasting their stories. First, we will study the soldier-authors of conflict memoires, especially those concerning the conflict in Afghanistan. Second, we will look at veterans on motorcycles, who by riding express their story and commemorate their fallen buddies. The question being addressed concerns the content of their narratives: ‘What is it the veterans are telling us?’ These narratives were collected from two different sources. The first source is the book Task Force Uruzgan in which soldiers were asked to write down their story. The editor, Noël van Bemmel, was told by many of the soldier-authors that they participate because ‘they felt that their unit deserved more recognition. According to them, the Dutch public is ill-informed about what really happens in Afghanistan’. He also suggests another motive for soldiers to write about their experiences:

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‘The writing project sometimes seemed to fulfil a therapeutic role’ (Van Bemmel, 2010). Veterans on motorcycles usually are not of the writing kind. Their stories are within the oral tradition. Their life stories were written down by René Moelker and Michelle Schut (2011) who interviewed over thirty bikers and published twentyone stories in the book Brothers in Arms, Brothers on Bikes. Here, the therapeutic aspect is found in riding the motorcycle in a group that is heading towards an almost sacred destination: a memorial site, a pilgrimage town like Lourdes or a rally of brothers in arms.

The theoretical concept of the narrative The psychologist McAdams (1996) explains how narratives help construct coherent identities. It is the ‘I’ that constructs a ‘Me’ by telling stories that relate to the self. The process of creating and telling these self-stories therefore is coined ‘selfing’ by McAdams. Selfing is the narrating process to create a modern self. It is mainly through the psychosocial construction of life stories that modern adults create identity in the Me. Life stories may be examined in terms of their structure and content, function, development, individual differences, and relation to mental health and psychosocial adaptation (McAdams, 1996: 295).

Then what the life story really does is that it integrates the narration of self into a coherent whole. By binding together disparate elements within the Me into a broader narrative frame, the selfing process can make a patterned identity out of what may appear at first blush to be a random and scattered life (McAdams, 1996: 309).

In psychology Sarin (1986) suggests that the narrative ‘may be a new “root metaphor” for psychology as a whole’ and Polkinghorne (1988) even places the narrative at the centre of understanding human lives. Our lives are ceaselessly intertwined with narrative, with the stories we tell and hear told, with the stories that we dream or imagine or would like to tell. All these stories are reworked in the stories of our own live that we narrate to ourselves in an episodic, sometimes semiconscious, virtually uninterrupted monologue (Polkinghorne, 1988: 160).

Sometimes a narrative does not work anymore and therefore it needs to be rewritten. A psychologist can assist in reconstructing these life stories. The criterion of truth simply comes down to the narrative being a ‘good story’, comprising strong

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characters, a good and convincing story line and a plot, as well as an ending. ‘At least six standards of good life-stories may be identified: (a) coherence, (b) openness, (c) credibility, (d) differentiation, (e) reconciliation, and (f ) generative integration’ (McAdams, 1996: 315). In generative integration fault lines in the Me are reconciled and integrated. Differentiation in the stories arises from the main character growing older and acquiring more events.

Method In the United States of America, a short story project for soldiers resulted in a bestselling anthology called ‘Operation Homecoming’ and in an Oscar nominated documentary with the same title. In the Netherlands, inspired by the American example, a leading Dutch newspaper, de Volkskrant, embarked on a similar project encouraging soldiers who had recently returned from a tour in Afghanistan to write about their experiences. This project, fully supported by the Ministry of Defence, resulted in a book called Task Force Uruzgan (Van Bemmel, 2010) which reached non-fiction bestseller status and comprised twenty-nine chapters. During our research we, firstly, looked at the events these soldiers write about in this book. What narratives do they find important to share with the public at large? Task Force Uruzgan can be considered non-obtrusive material: material that the researchers cannot influence. The texts are what they are without intrusion of the researcher. An advantage of non-obtrusiveness is that bias does not stem from the interaction of the respondent and the researcher. That doesn’t mean however that the stories in this book are uninfluenced by people other than their authors. The soldiers-authors in this book were actively recruited by the editors via articles in Dutch military journals such as the Defensiekrant and also during road trips to units that had recently returned from Afghanistan. The recruited soldiers were invited to spend a day in a ‘literary training camp’ where they were taught the basics of writing a good story and were personally coached in developing the outline of a one-issuestory. The story itself was written at home and was commented upon and edited by both a journalist and a professional writer, who thereby have had some influence on the content of the stories. We also looked, secondly, at interviews with veterans who form motorcycle clubs. These interviews can be considered obtrusive material, as the interview protocol guided the respondent into certain topical areas. These veterans on bikes are characterized by high mobility and transformation, the apotheosis of their existence being the road trip towards some destination, albeit profane (rallies, runs) or sacred (memorials, pilgrimages). This mobility, the vulnerability of these groups because of possible past experiences and the common feeling they share of being rejected by wider society as both a veteran and a biker. This makes it difficult to win their trust other than by partly participating in their life style and engaging in

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observation using ethnographic methods. The characteristics of the veteran-bikers, the tensions and the mobility of groups that are defined by membership and closure towards ‘normal’ citizens and the non-veteran-biker community, i.e. those ‘who would not understand’, requires kinetic ethnography as a method1. By kinetic ethnography, which we define as a form of participant observation on the move, a new research tool is brought to the fore: the motorcycle. The researchers joined an international rally, The Brothers in Arms Run in the Dutch city of Groningen and two motorcycle pilgrimages, one to Lourdes, France and one called Run for the Wall heading towards The Wall in Washington D.C. Besides this participant methodology, camp fire interviews were conducted. These were sometimes short, sometimes lengthy interviews in odd places like parking lots, restaurants and campsites. In total, some twenty-one chapters comprising narratives were published in the book Brothers in Arms, Brothers on Bikes (Moelker and Schut, 2011). The content of these narratives was analyzed in the same manner as the narratives taken from the abovementioned book Task Force Uruzgan (Van Bemmel, 2010). In this study we used the descriptive coding technique from Miles and Huberman (1994) to analyze the texts. Because the narratives were published in book format and the electronic versions were available to the researchers, this coding technique could be applied to these texts. We used a pre-specified coding list called the ‘Military Event List’, constructed by Vrijkotte et al (2010). This list involves eleven categories of events that can happen during a military mission, namely incidents, victims, special occasions, life conditions, home front, health, working conditions, leisure, job perception, interaction with colleges and interaction with external parties (Vrijkotte, et al., 2010). These categories were applied while close reading the books and the interviews. After coding the events, scatter plots were made to analyze the frequency of the different (groups of ) categories in either the narratives of the soldier-authors and the interviews with the bikers. On the basis of these scatter plots, the most important results were described with some snappy illustrations. Below we will start to show the results with the scatters plots and description from the soldier-authors.

The soldier-authors Applying the categories of Vrijkotte et al. (2010) to the twenty-nine stories of the Task Force Uruzgan book, tells us that all of the eleven categories from this list are mentioned in the book – some of them even in 90% of all stories. Figure 22.1 shows that we can discern three different clusters of events in descending order of importance for the writers: I Work itself, a cluster that consists of the categories ‘Job perception’, ‘Incidents’ and ‘Interactions with external parties’; II Working circumstances, comprising ‘Work and living conditions’, ‘Interactions with internal parties’ and ‘Victims’;

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Figure 22.1 Military events mentioned in Task Force Uruzgan

Military events

100% 90%

job perception

80%

interaction external parties

I

incident

70% in % of chapters

working conditions

60%

interaction colleagues

50% 40%

living conditions victim

II

leisure

health home special occasion

30% 20%

III

10% 0% 0

2

4

6

8

10

12

average # per chapter

III Private time, which contains the categories ‘Leisure’, ‘Home front’, ‘Health’ and ‘Special occasions’.

Cluster I: Work itself

The most important category is ‘interaction with external parties’. Almost all writers talk about their interaction with people other than their direct colleagues. Most of what they describe has to do with interaction with Afghans: meeting and greeting Afghan people, their experiences with the Afghan climate, terrain and customs and working with Afghan military and police personnel and local government. Lieutenant-colonel Rietdijk writes about his arrival in a small village: After another hour of Paris-Dakar-like circumstances in the back of an army pickup, we arrive in front of the large green door of Mohammed’s house. Boys and girls run around us, smiling a lot and asking for pens. Since Operation Spin Ghar dislodged the Taliban from this area, the atmosphere in Chora has become pleasant.

Most of it is positive or neutrally formulated, but negative experiences are not withheld from the readers, such as this account of working with the Afghan police by colonel Van Griensven:

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[…] the cooperation was successful (as far as possible in this country) and the checkpoints at the edge of the area were once again occupied. At least, most of the time, because they are rather lax in matters of attendance here and are obviously also occupied with other matters such as blackmailing people, harvesting poppy and being high.

The same can be concluded from what the soldier-authors write about their job perception. Of course they describe successful actions and operations, but they don’t shy away from their own insecurities about the success of the actions, or their own behaviour, and regularly even clearly mention the enemy’s success. Captain Hamers was not amused when he read a Dutch intelligence report: [I]n a report from Camp Holland I have to read that about eight hundred to one thousand warriors have gathered around the Chora district. That is almost ten times more than I have! The report also indicates that the groups will attack from several sides. I think I’m going crazy. Why do I have to read this in a report, why wasn’t I informed about this?

Even though the mission was sometimes referred to in the media and the political arena as a ‘reconstruction mission’ instead of a ‘fighting mission’, three-quarters of the authors mention being involved in some sort of shooting incident, varying from being shot at and firing back, having to seek shelter in a bunker, to having to give medical support to victims of violence. The first event, being involved in a shootout, is the incident most often mentioned. This combination of much attention to interaction with the Afghans, combined with high levels of shooting incidents indicates that according to the soldierauthors it is too simple to state that a mission is either about fighting or about reconstruction. In the case of Afghanistan it is both, and the Dutch armed forces can and do fight as any other army. Three different authors describe that they feel they have participated in historic battles. Colonel Van Griensven concludes, for example, in his chapter on the battle for Chora: The attack is successful and in the afternoon the Taliban have been dislodged and all posts have been recovered and occupied by ANA-soldiers. The second battle for Chora has been settled and Dutch (military) history has indeed been written.

Cluster II: Working circumstances

The second most important cluster of categories that the soldier-authors in Task Force Uruzgan write about, is that which deals with working circumstances. It comprises four categories: working conditions, victims, living conditions and interaction with colleagues.

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From the descriptions of circumstances it appears that working conditions in Afghanistan are tough. Casual remarks about the harsh climate (It is god-awful hot), operations in enemy territory (The bullets impact the hard soil around them) and the demanding physical circumstances are abundant: We are what is called Light Infantry: flak jacket, optics, instruments, communication equipment, helmet and weapon combine easily to about sixty kilos per guy.

Being a soldier also means that seeing victims, people who are wounded or even dead, is part of the working conditions. It is a part which is often mentioned. The Dutch victims who were killed are mentioned most often, which is logical, as they are part of what psychologists call the ‘in-group’ (see Table 22.1). More surprising in this respect is that wounded victims in the local population are mentioned even more often than Dutch wounded personnel. This might be an indication that the faith of the Afghan people is considered very important by the Dutch soldier-authors. This also fits with the large attention given in the book to interactions with the Afghans. Table 22.1 Background of victims as % of the total number of victims mentioned Wounded

Killed

Local (50%)

Dutch (36%)

Dutch (30%)

Local (28%)

Enemy (13%)

Coalition/Afghan National Army (19%)

Coalition/ANA (7%)

Enemy (17%)

Soldiers do not complain much about the living conditions, although from the stories it becomes clear that there are five things very important for soldiers in this respect: eating and drinking; smoking, sleeping; good sanitary facilities and clean clothes. They are casually mentioned time and time again: ‘Cup of coffee and a fag?’ he asks. ‘Wonderful,’ I say and flop down on the floor. ‘Good morning, by the way.’

The appreciation of direct colleagues and bosses is also very important. The writers of TFU predominantly talk about positive interactions with them and describe the traditional military camaraderie of laughing and crying together (mainly laughing, though) and typical bonding rituals, such as the use of the mascot in major Van Groenestein’s team:

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Karelkie, the Tiger, our mascot is standing next to me. Ever since the mission in Bosnia, every member of a patrol team strokes Karelkie before he exits the gate.

Cluster III: Private time

The cluster of categories that are mentioned least often, but even so in at least 20% of all stories, is comprised of events that are of a more private nature: leisure, health and thinking about the people at home. Most of the leisure time mentioned is filled with sports, an unsurprising pastime for soldiers. Another regular pastime, drinking, is forbidden in Afghanistan for Dutch military personnel, a fact that is mentioned by several authors, but is not by all considered problematic: ‘And living without alcohol, I discovered in Camp Holland, is not so bad at all.’ Complaints about not being able to sleep well and about being tired (‘health’) are more numerous. Major Gorissen is trying to ignore the shooting outside, as he desperately needs to sleep: But… we do have to sleep a little… as we have another four days yet to go! What is completely missing is any mention of sexuality. The story of a lieutenant Silvy Toele whose boyfriend is coincidently also placed in Kandahar is indicative, and at the same time the only story actually to acknowledge sexual longing: I hardly dare kiss my boyfriend. It is a very awkward way of saying goodbye and it is completely ridiculous. But what if someone were to see us? What would they think? More than a kiss and a hug are never exchanged between them. One-third of the stories mention the home front of the writer, often denoting just that there was contact or that the writer thought about the people he or she had left at home. But as major Van Groenestein shows, the people at home are never far away: I fall asleep with the picture of my family on my chest. A second specimen is behind the breast plate of my flak jacket and accompanies me during actions. In short: the soldier-authors of Task Force Uruzgan are much more willing to share the work-related military events, than their private experiences. This is even visible in the least mentioned category: special occasions, which are mostly comprised of descriptions of memorial services for deceased colleagues.

Brothers in Arms, Brothers on Bikes The narratives of veterans on motorcycles were analyzed in the same manner as the narratives from the military authors. Twenty-one chapters of the book Brothers in Arms, Brothers on Bikes were studied using the same categories. Even though the method we used is the same, the narratives from the veterans on motorcycles are different from the soldier-authors for several reasons. First of all the timeframe is different. The authors are dealing with their deployment itself, whilst the bikers reflect for the most part on the period after returning home. Secondly, the motor

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Figure 22.2 Military events mentioned in Brothers in Arms, Brothers on Bikes

Military events

100% 90%

health

80%

interaction external parties

III

70%

interaction colleagues

IV

in % of interivews

job perception leisure

60% 50%

home front

40% 30%

incident

20%

I

10%

special occasion

working conditions living conditions

victim

II

0% 1,2

1,4

1,6

1,8

2

2,2

2,4

2,6

2,8

3

average # per interview

cyclists did not write themselves, but their narratives were constructed from interviews that specifically guided the respondents into talking about health and riding the motorcycle. The narratives illuminate a complementary dimension of the veteran phenomenon, displaying emotions and coping strategies by which the veterans manage to go on with their life after intense conflict experiences. The categories of the Military Event List are subsumed under four clusters: I Battle stories, comprising the categories ‘Incidents’ and ‘Victims’ II Conditions: ‘Working conditions’ and ‘Living conditions’ III Professional and private lives, containing the categories ‘Job perception’, ‘Home front’, ‘Leisure’ and ‘Interaction with external parties’ IV Health and social support: ‘Health’, ‘Special occasions’ and ‘Interaction with colleagues’

Cluster I: Battle stories

All bikers witnessed the atrocities of intrastate violence or have, like Arie, the secretary of the Veterans MC, lost buddies. Some were themselves victims from incidents in the field. They do not all mention incidents or victims, because the interview protocol was not designed to specifically delve into this topic. Thus, firing incidents were mentioned only eleven times. Victims of violence were mentioned ten times. Sometimes the mandate did not allow intervention, as in the cases reported by veterans from Lebanon, Cambodia and former Yugoslavia, whilst in the case of Afghanistan the biker-veterans participated passionately in shoot-outs. The dif-

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ference between the missions is significant and the emotions accompanying the experiences vary from being unable to act and feeling loss of autonomy to battle euphoria. Veterans from Lebanon tell they were under fire every day, an experience ‘you get used to’. Fred, typically an individual rider in the category of the Rich Urban Bikers, is specific about his emotions: The first time I got shot at, I will never forget. Neither will I forget the first victim, Siebe Boonstra, who died on the fourth of May, 1979 by friendly fire! It is my most sad memory.

One of the road captains of the Veterans MC drove his vehicle on a mine during his time in Yugoslavia and suffered back injuries that took six months to recover. My buddy, present at the same incident, is still undergoing physical therapy. The incident did change me thoroughly, I now intend to enjoy life, including the small joys of life.

An embedded journalist, Vik, who in order to save his life participated in fighting the Taliban in Afghanistan, tells about his feelings of euphoria during action: You live life to the fullest when you’re engaged. Ninety per cent of the soldiers will never experience this kind of rush … we were ambushed by 140 Taliban and ended the fight with 35 acknowledged kills. … you realize ‘I can be done for any moment’ but like the soldiers, you have the skills and drills and then it is a good experience! Strangely, we actually laughed during the fight. You hear classic movie sounds and bullets fly straight through your hair.

Cluster II: Conditions

The military profession and the biker life world resemble each other amongst others because of the underlying fascinations with technology and the physical aspect of machines. Motorcycling is impossible without getting your hands dirty. Being a professional soldier also implies that one needs to have boots on the ground and that hands will get dirty. An infantryman firing his weapon, experiences as mentioned the same kind of thrill as a biker going fast on curvy roads. All members of the military police that narrated their story only barely distinguish the thin line between working conditions controlling highways or leisurely driving through the countryside. To them it is nearly the same. They enjoy speeding too when chasing rule violators. Or riding in formation in securing VIPs. They do rightly claim to drive in a more ‘cutting edge’ and disciplined way than civilian bikers, but otherwise professional and private experiences are quite similar. There is a social aspect to the working conditions as well, as Burb, who flew Orions when they still were in service, remarks:

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What I like about flying, I like about riding the motorcycle. In an Orion you go somewhere like the Middle East or Iceland, with about sixteen persons. The group thing is the same as in driving motorcycles: work hard, play hard.

The living conditions and lifestyles of soldiers and bikers show remarkable similarity. The bikers reflect on this topic themselves fourteen times. In striving for distinction bikers wear collars and insignia just like soldiers wear their emblems. Symbolism is part of the life conditions. Being a biker is often a full-time commitment. Kees mentions the difference between bikers and fashion riders. The latter would even ‘drive a lawn mower if that would be considered fashionable.’ Fred, marketing specialist and Rich Urban Biker, claims that riding runs in the family. His father, uncle and wife all are bikers. His wife is, like him, also committed to the cause of veterans and gave up her job to run a web-based enterprise called ‘veteranenshop. nl’.

Cluster III: Professional and private lives

Journalist Vik identified strongly with the Special Forces; he felt like a soldierveteran himself, and wore his lieutenant star from his conscription days on his motor jacket. Physically he embodied his affiliation with the Special Forces by a tattoo, discretely hidden under his watch. He was verbally more capable of describing battle emotions. Vik describes that riding a motorcycle causes the same excitement in him, an excitement he needs because ‘you never live as intense, as when close to death … back in the Netherlands I miss this feeling tremendously’. So the military job perception shows a remarkable parallel with riding a motorcycle. These instances of parallel job and motorcycle perceptions were mentioned twenty-three times: ‘the military and bikers alike seek dangerous situations … the profession is never free from risk’. The job perception is dominated by the awareness of being a risk manager. Soldiers and bikers always have to deal with risk. Bottom line is that both professional soldiers and bikers are ‘edge workers’ (Thompson, 1967: 19; 49; 243; 345; Lyng, 1990, 2005). Kees, a veteran from Yugoslavia and former president of the Federation of European Motorcyclists Association, adequately describes the feeling that stems from danger and risk in motorcycling: It is hard to die in a car, safety precautions surround the automobile driver. […] with a motorcycle you yourself are responsible for your life, you pull up the bike when the asphalt is nearing, and it feels good to have control and make decisions yourself. I am well aware of the danger and I do not seek it as I used too when I was young.

Even in dealing with the home front the military and biker community are much alike. During missions the soldiers are separated from their spouses and miss their home front. The bikers refer to the home front thirteen times in their narratives and mostly the issue again is separation. Some motor clubs do not accept female

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riders as members, but nonetheless all of them show their spouses respect. Stef, the president of the Veterans MC, one of the strictest clubs upholding the rule regarding the exclusion of female members, states: We are very open and accessible. Supporters, bikers and all who are interested, are welcome. You need women to create a pleasant ambiance. For a soldier coming home from a mission, the home front and family life is all important, therefore it would not be a smart move to shut women out from our Friday night club meetings.

Twenty-six times the bikers referred to interactions with external parties. Often these interactions were related to lacking support, understanding and recognition from society. Wild Hog, who was quoted before, did not feel welcome upon his return from Lebanon: We came back with a tan and were accused of playing the tourist. Back in the ‘80s a psychiatrist once said that we suffered from the Vietnam Syndrome. Not embraced by society. Some boys were killed by friendly fire, and the comments were, ‘Hey, you shoot your own friend’ and ‘nice tan you got’. Nobody knew what really happened …

All veterans from Lebanon, Fred, Fire Lion and Wild Hog, who told their life story referred to this same incident regarding Siebe Boonstra. Even though they were not near the incident, it became a social stigma that stereotyped and shamed the whole group of Lebanon veterans. The same ‘blaming and shaming’ happened to members of Motorcycle group ‘De Broekhoest’, who were accused in the media of right-wing sympathies after having served in the infamous and unfortunate Unprofor III mission (Srebrenica!). Even though acquitted, the slate was not easily wiped clean and the group as a group disbanded. Acceptance is growing however by social activism of the bikers who ride with a mission for recognition. Fred even got his community to plant a ‘veterans tree’ where yellow ribbons for deployed soldiers remind the community that ‘our boys’ are on mission in the interest of all Dutch citizens.

Cluster IV: Health and social support

Risk in the dominant perception of the military job, just as in motorcycling, is thrilling, but veterans and bikers do not seek thrill out of addiction. They seek something that is fundamental to this thrill. They seek the feeling of freedom that derives from controlling your own life. When leisure time is discussed, it is associated with the need to feel free. To quote Fire Lion, one of the members of the Blue Helmets Motor Group, commandant of a Fire Brigade and veteran of Lebanon, ‘we are a free group, with a passion for motorcycling’. Riding a motorcycle for veterans of military missions is more than only time off and fun as a discussion between two members of the military police in active duty demonstrates. Michel regards his

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motorcycle pilgrimage to Lourdes as a holiday, hoping to get back home rested, and he wonders whether or not a leisure activity like fishing would help to get over experiences from the past in the same manner. Paul, however, totally disagrees: When you are down, like I was a couple of years ago, it really helps to go on a road trip together. During fishing you are alone again. During a bike ride you can have fun together, but you know everything about everyone and sharing things is easy. You have time for serious conversation.

In this way biking provides important stress relief. An American biker said ‘I ride my bike to stay sane. The last time they let me out of the loony bin, I got this bike. It’s just about the only thing that makes sense to me’ (Dubisch, 2005: 153). Dutch veterans share the same experiences, because riding a motorcycle accommodates thrill seekers with excitement, but also provides the former warriors social support and thus results in an opportunity for catharsis and peer contact. Wild Hog who was deployed to Lebanon for over a year presents a full medical overview of his post-conflict life: When I returned, I left the service. You have problems with everyday life; you drink or sport a lot. If you are tired or drunk, you don’t have to think. You become workaholic. You go through almost all stages of addiction, and finally someone says: ‘you could have PTSD’. I was diagnosed in 1983. In the beginning, after two years of treatment, therapy was ended with the words ‘there’s nothing more we can do for you’. It goes on and on. In 2004 it could no longer continue and an emergency admission followed at Stichting Centrum ’45 in Oegstgeest. After two years of illness and an honourable discharge, I was 100% condemned.

Bikes provide comfort to Wild Hog: My stress relief from this all is driving my motorcycle. I ride a trike and really enjoy it. If my head is full, I take some coffee and bread for on the road and drive. When I return after a few hours, my head is empty.

All in all thirty-seven references to health were made in the narratives of the bikers, making it the second largest issue in the texts. By far the largest category in the analysis was ‘interaction with colleagues’, comprising forty-five references. The category contains explanations about the tensions within the biker community, but most interesting are the positive statements on social support among the motorcyclists. They unanimously claim that ‘brothers on bikes’ better understand each other because once they were ‘brothers in arms’. Burb from the club Dutch Forces even goes to airports to support those members still in active duty who leave for or return from missions:

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We are present to wave goodbye but we are also there to welcome our brothers back home. Sometimes we send packages with motorcycle magazines and we keep in touch by e-mail. On return we party! These guys have experienced all sorts of things they cannot always talk about with their wife because the wife would not understand. We do, and we lend a listening ear.

Special occasions were mentioned seventeen times. Occasions like the Brothers in Arms Run, the Motorcycle Pilgrimage to Lourdes and The Run for the Wall, provide opportunities for the veterans to meet and support each other and are highly valued. Sometimes they even are given the aura of a sacred occasion because of the contribution to societal recognition and psychic well-being. Wild Hog very much supported the occasion: Two years ago, we were invited to join the International Military Pilgrimage to Lourdes. That was a great ride. We, the Blue Helmets Motorcycle Group, were with ten motorbikes and one trike. In total there were forty-five motorbikes. We were on the road for four days, with many military related visits, for example to Verdun. It was weird, that we suddenly slept in barracks again. In Lourdes, we gathered at the airport and drove with the whole group under police escort into the city. That was very impressive. There were many soldiers from all countries around the world. People were clapping and giving us thumbs up. We all wore our blue berets. With 45 motorcycles we entered Lourdes! What a moment!

Conclusion Narratives have healing power. That is one of the reasons to present the narrative of Wild Hog. In Wild Hog’s life story he reconstructs his identity as a veteran who did not get the recognition he needed (interactions with external parties). By driving his trike to special places like rallies and pilgrimage (special occasions) and by constructing the biker identity in which social support (interactions with colleagues) is incorporated, healing (health) is obtained. Interestingly, leverage in constructing this narrative leading to societal recognition is provided by a grouping that is stigmatized in the same way veterans were stigmatized when they came home from the war. The bikers originally had a comparably bad reputation as the veterans, but now it is the bikers who are rewriting the narrative. Wild Hog found recognition by telling his story as a biker-veteran. In telling this story he created a narrative that works, created an identity and gained social support and partial healing. Surprisingly the narratives of the soldier-authors are negatively correlated with those of the veteran bikers. Whereas the veteran bikers do not often mention incidents and victims (Figure 22.2), the soldier-authors most often narrate about inter-

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actions with external parties i.e. the interactions with local Afghans and incidents involving fire contacts with the ‘opposing forces’ (Figure 22.1). The veteran bikers weave into their stories the interactions they have with colleagues, the brotherhood of old comrades and the parallel camaraderie among bikers. Also they talk about health issues and openly carry patches with the text ‘PTSD, not all wounds are visible’ or the emblem for wounded veterans ‘Vulneratus Nec Victus’ (wounded, but not defeated). The identity that the soldier-authors themselves construct is the identity of the professional soldier. In this self-construed image of professionalism, they do not emphasize private life much in contradistinction to the bikers, but narrate about operational affairs. Quoting Noël van Bemmel by repetition, the authors participated because ‘they felt that their unit [and they themselves] deserves more recognition’. Recognition here refers to recognition as professionals. The tale to be broadcasted, the story to be told, the image to uphold is all about professionalism. Table 22.2 Differences between soldier-authors and veteran bikers Taskforce Uruzgan

Brothers in Arms, Brothers on Bikes

High occurrence

Interactions with external parties, Incidents

Interaction with colleagues, Health

Low occurrence

Leisure, Health, Special occasions, Private time, Home front

Incidents, Victims

The differences might stem from methodological biases because the soldier-authors were asked to write about what moved them emotionally, and the bikers were asked why they were riding together. But since both projects, the Task Force Uruzgan and the Brothers in Arms, Brothers on Bikes projects, both departed from a very open non-directional methodology, the one using unobtrusive data and the other using a very open topic list for interviewing, it seems more likely that the differences stem from the timeframe. The soldier-authors are reflecting on their mission very shortly after participating in action. The veteran bikers reflect on their present life and the aftermath of a mission that they were part of in the past. The bikers sometimes developed health problems and they find healing in the contact with their brethren on bikes who are also old comrades in arms. The soldier-authors are still mentally living the thrill of the mission, whereas the bikers need the thrill of motorcycling to feel alive once more. The soldier-authors have not developed health problems comparable to the bikers, but from expert studies we know that these type of health problems develop in the aftermath of missions, sometimes even twenty years later (Meijer and Rietveld, 2011). Perhaps in future, the soldier-authors will turn from books to bikes, or better yet, they will develop a taste for both! The common narrative is in the longing for recognition. Both the soldier-authors and the veteran bikers construct an identity in which they demand societal recognition. The demands can get political as they already are in Canada, Israel and the

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United States of America where veterans exert political pressure in order to further their interests. Those nations suffered more casualties and, except Canada, have large numbers of veterans that form an important democratic constituency. In the Netherlands the number of veterans is still relatively small, although in 2010 for the first time the number of ‘young’ veterans exceeded the ‘old’ veterans (from colonial Indonesia and Korea). But if missions are continued, if they are risky in nature and not constabulary in character, and the veteran population grows, the narrative is bound to also become political in the Netherlands at some point in the future.

Note 1 The term is adapted by Moelker and Schut (2011) from Edith Turner who coined the concept of kinetic rituals, 1978: xiii. The task of developing kinetic ethnography was undertaken earlier by Michalowski and Dubisch (2001) and Dubisch (2004; 2005) who based their work on Turner and Turner’s (1978) studies of pilgrimage.

References Dubisch, J. (2004) Heartland of America: Memory, Motion, and the Reconstruction of History on a Motorcycle Pilgrimage. In: Coleman, J. and Eade, J. (eds.) Reframing Pilgrimage: Cultures in Motion. London: Routledge, 105-132. Dubisch, J. (2005) Healing “the Wounds that are not Visible”, a Vietnam Veterans’ Motor­ cycle Pilgrimage. In: Dubisch, J. and Winkelman, M. (eds.) Pilgrimage and Healing. Tucson: The University of Arizona Press, 135-154. Dubisch, J. and Winkelman, M. (2005) Pilgrimage and Healing. Tucson: The University of Arizona Press. Lyng, S. (1990) Edgework: A Social Psychological Analysis of Voluntary Risk-Taking. American Journal of Sociology 95(4), 851-886. McAdams, D.P. (1996) Personality, Modernity, and the Storied Self: A Contemporary Framework for Studying Persons. Psychological Inquiry 7(4), 295-321. Meijer, M. and Rietveld, N. (2011) Conference Proceedings of the 13th International Military Mental Health Conference. Research Paper 99. Breda: Netherlands Defence Academy. Michalowski, R. and Dubisch, J. (2001) Run for the Wall. Remembering Vietnam on a Motorcycle Pilgrimage. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press. Miles, M. and Huberman, A.M. (2004) Qualitative data analysis (2nd Ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Moelker, R. and Schut, M. (2011) Brothers in Arms, Brothers on Bikes. Budel: Damon. Polkinghorne, D. (1988) Narrative Knowing and the Human Sciences. Albany: State University of New York Press. Sarin, T. (ed.) (1986) Narrative Psychology: The Storied Nature of Human Conduct. New York: Preager.

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Thompson, H. S. (1967) Hell’s Angels. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Turner, V. and Turner, E. (1978) Image and Pilgrimage in Christian Culture. New York: Columbia University Press. Van Bemmel, N. (ed.) (2009) Task Force Uruzgan: Waargebeurde verhalen van onze soldaten (Task Force Uruzgan: True Stories Told by Our Soldiers). Amsterdam: J.M. Meulenhoff bv. Vrijkotte, S., Van Wouwe, N. et al. (2010) TNO-DV 2010 A300. SPECS: Soldiers Physical, Emotional and Cognitive Sustainability. Soesterberg: TNO Defensie en Veiligheid.

23

Epilogue Looking back and moving on Joseph Soeters, Jan van der Meulen, Robert Beeres and Ad Vogelaar

In June 2011, President Obama officially announced the partial withdrawal of American troops from Afghanistan. At more or less the same time the French, the German and the Spanish governments proclaimed similar plans, after the Canadian government had done the same somewhat earlier. These announcements came one and a half years after the coalition partners in the Dutch government had not been able to agree on another follow-up of Mission Uruzgan after the first prolongation two years earlier. The Dutch had been the first NATO country to end their contribution to the mission in Afghanistan, against intense political pressure from their NATO allies and despite strong appeals from important Afghan stakeholders including President Karzai. It was a dramatic decision; as a consequence of it, the government had to resign because it could no longer rely on a parliamentary majority. Not much later, however, the new Dutch government decided to deploy a new, much smaller, mission to Afghanistan, now in the Northern part of the country – in Kunduz –, with a more civilian character, focused on training local police officers. A small majority in parliament agreed with this new mission under the condition that the trained police officers would not be involved in any fighting. Even if this condition may seem a bit peculiar, the Dutch will remain involved in Afghanistan as much as the United States (US) – and for instance Canada that also decided to deploy a police training mission – will stay on board. Ending a mission clearly is not the same as completely leaving a mission area. The Western participation in Afghanistan is not over yet. Not until 2014 at least, as the current plans indicate. Nevertheless, Mission Uruzgan has ended for the Dutch as much as it is still unfinished business for others. After more than four years, from 2006 till 2010, the book on the Dutch participation in that particular Afghan province has been closed. What can we learn from those years? What has been achieved? How will the activities and events in those years impact future decision-making on military missions? We address these questions in this epilogue, making use of the insights that have emerged from the various contributions in this volume on Mission Uruzgan. We want to look back and – much the same as the Dutch military – we want to move on. This epilogue is an editorial view of what happened and may happen in the near future. Nothing in it is exempt from critique and debate.

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Typical Dutch? From its conception, Mission Uruzgan has caused fierce political debates in Dutch society and parliament. Since war is almost a taboo word in Dutch society and fighting is not a highly valued activity, not even for the military, the mission in Uruzgan could not be ‘marketed’ as a fighting mission. The mission was approved by a parliamentary majority solely because it was said to be a reconstruction mission, in which the Department of Defence would work jointly with the Department of Foreign Affairs and the Department of Development and Aid (e.g., Dimitriu and de Graaf, 2010). The Dutch mission was not to be tainted by combining their efforts with the US led Operation Enduring Freedom, which was clearly more military core-business. Actually, this debate was a bit more than ‘marketing’ or political framing. More than various other NATO allies and comparable to for example the Canadian contribution, the Dutch mission put the reconstruction, development and nation building on top of the mission’s agenda. The strong emphasis on civil-military cooperation gave Mission Uruzgan a special character; it created space for civilian input in the military’s project, more than Americans or Australians – partnering nations in Mission Uruzgan – were, and are, used to. They thought, for example, that the idea of a civilian commanding a military unit, such as a Provincial Reconstruction Team (PRT), is a very odd phenomenon. For large parts of the Dutch electorate, however, the so-called ‘comprehensive’, ‘3D’ (Development, Diplomacy, Defence), or ‘wholeof-government’ approach was very much in line with what they value. Due to Mission Uruzgan’s civil-military composition the Dutch military made themselves respected. This was underlined at the end of 2006 by an influential weekly newspaper indicating that the Dutch soldiers were ‘the Dutchmen of the year’. In 2011, together with Afghan human rights activist Sima Samar, the Dutch military was awarded the so-called Geuzenpenning – a precious award referring to the resistance-movement in the Second World War. The declaration supporting this award referred to the many social and economic improvements that had been made in the ‘Dutch’ province Uruzgan. It endorsed the doctrine of reconstruction wherever possible, fighting whenever unavoidable. In previous years this medal had been awarded to famous politicians such as Columbian Ingrid Betancourt and undisputed institutions such as Human Rights Watch. Whenever Dutch politicians were critical of the achievements in Uruzgan, they were always quick to say that their criticism regarded the operation and the whole situation, not the soldiers themselves. Yes, there were disagreements, at the end of the day leading to the final curtain for Dutch Mission Uruzgan. First, at the beginning of 2007 but also later, there was criticism from soldiers themselves, especially from those belonging to the units that were confronting the opposing forces – Taliban, rival tribes and accidental guerillas. They felt neglected by the media and politicians who – they said – had no idea what those soldiers were going through on the battlefield. Those military people did not

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feel appreciated enough with respect to what constitutes their core competence: engaging in hostile interaction, fighting. Perhaps they even felt that their casualties – all together 25 servicemen/women died and more than 140 soldiers were (severely) wounded – did not receive the societal and political attention casualties tend to receive in the United Kingdom (UK) or in the US. As this complaint became heard more often in the media, it became part of the political debate as well. Since Mission Uruzgan had been ‘sold’ as a reconstruction mission, and because it gradually evolved to be a fighting mission too, it lost credibility and legitimacy. The Battle of Chora, in which dozens of civilian Afghan casualties occurred, seemed to be a turning point in this process. Gradually, the public support for the mission, which had been lukewarm from the beginning, declined even further. By consequence, the majority of Dutch parliament and a substantial part of the government withdrew its support to prolong the mission yet another time, despite NATO’s, US foreign minister Hillary Clinton’s and President Obama’s asking for a longer stay. Paradoxically, the military’s request to be acknowledged as military ‘warfighting’ heroes had induced the ending of the opportunity to become a military hero. And then there was this other criticism on a typical Dutch aspect of their participation to international military missions, such as previously in Iraq. The Dutch are proud of their typical ‘Dutch approach’ or ‘Dutch touch’. This approach amounts to bottom-up, harmoniously, preferably not so violently and via cooptation of local power holders and tribal balance (Kitzen, forthcoming) seeking for solutions to conflicts. In contrast, Anglo-Saxon partners argue this approach is not very effective. In their view, the Dutch don’t fight enough, and sometimes the c-word (for coward) is used. Of course the memories of the drama in Srebrenica resonate in this exchange of opinions. Yet, it is truly doubtful if fighting – leaving the moral difficulties of this approach aside – is always really effective. To some degree it certainly is: killing Osama Bin Laden undoubtedly will have contributed to the weakening of global, terrorist Jihadism. However, killing enemies is likely to create new enemies; killing innocent bystanders (which often happens when using violence) is likely to create many more new enemies. Therefore, an approach stressing the accidental, not the essential character of foes (Soeters, 2012) seems more promising. Such an approach contains targeted military action if unavoidable, but for the major part it tries to discover and work towards solutions for grievances, rivalries, deadly competition, aggression and hostilities; solutions that are acceptable and bearable for all. Indeed, something like the ‘Dutch approach’. In this regard it may be important to recall that the security situation in all provinces of (Southern-) Afghanistan has worsened over the last couple of years. However, the situation deteriorated in the unruly ‘Dutch province’ of Uruzgan significantly less than it did in, for example, the ‘British province’ of Helmand, as the chapter on burden sharing in this volume indicated. In Helmand the ceaseless and dispersed fighting, often intentionally provoked by the British troops, has not done a lot of good (e.g., King, 2010).

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Results so far? In the discussion about how to deal with insurgents and terrorists, two approaches may be discerned. The population-centric approach is often contrasted to the enemy-centric approach. Mission Uruzgan’s approach, especially the Dutch way, was very much population-centric. A population-centric approach in general is a costly and time-consuming affair. ‘Slow is fast’, as the construction and development people used to say about their work in Uruzgan. Indeed, at a certain point in time the Dutch decided to slow down the pace of the expansion throughout the province; being fast was not producing the results that were needed. Of course this decision was also induced by the relatively limited number of troops available, while the Afghan forces were not ready to replace the international troops on the ground. For one thing, the Dutch were not capable of creating a ‘surge’ in Uruzgan in order to produce safety and security all over the province, including its most remote villages. But obviously, this is a problem many international military missions face, as we know from, for instance, the UN missions in Sudan and Congo as well as from other contingents’ experiences in the other provinces in Afghanistan. In fact, the current ISAF-doctrine emphasizes securing and development of key terrains only (Rodriguez, 2011). As to the developmental side of Mission Uruzgan, the Dutch government showed itself to be rather satisfied after four years of action. In several evaluation reports it was concluded that the situation in the province had improved considerably in terms of concrete developments in agriculture, the health sector, education, entrepreneurship, media, and the presence of women in public life. The number of national and international NGOs in the region increased substantially over the years. The construction of a main road between the capital city and Chora connecting various Afghan Development Zones was also deemed highly significant to the region’s progress. Except for IEDs, this road turned out to be relatively safe to travel. This is probably partly due to the capacity building of Afghan National Security Forces – police and armed forces – and engagement of key leaders. Taken together, Uruzgan is currently seen as one of the areas in Afghanistan’s Southern regions where positive developments have occurred (Rietjens, 2011). The British weekly The Economist reached a similar conclusion stating that solid results, against the general trend elsewhere, were chalked up in one province: Uruzgan (Dimitriu and de Graaf, 2010: 444). Clearly, since 2006 Uruzgan has become a different place (NL Government, 2011). Yet, the situation was and still remains precarious. Particularly, Afghan government’s presence in Uruzgan during the ‘Dutch years’ was not undisputed, and in large areas of the province this presence was outright limited, rendering the security situation in a number of districts still dangerous. The choice of the Dutch government – before deciding to engage in Uruzgan – not to work with power brokers such as Jan Mohammed (JM) and Matiullah Kahn (MK), has been contested by many stakeholders on the scene. Even though the Dutch had stressed that JM and MK would be removed, they remained active in the region

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during the ‘Dutch stint’ (Kitzen, forthcoming). Sometimes these power brokers even spoiled the developments, also because they sensed they were backed by the Americans (Derksen, 2010: 101-140). The Dutch and the US units that had been working in Uruzgan previously did not agree on this. It turned out that the disagreement between the Netherlands and the US on this particular but highly important issue did not much good to the overarching results of Mission Uruzgan. Clearly, there has not always been full unity of command and effort in the ISAF operations in Uruzgan province (NL Government, 2011: 47; 56). After the Dutch had departed, the Americans shifted course but they did not put JM and MK in formal power again. At least in this, there was multinational consistency in policy making. Yet, the political interests of the local key leaders continue to be a hornets’ nest. At home, Dutch veterans received increasingly more acknowledgement and ‘respect’ because of their deployment to Afghanistan. Veterans Day has become a nationwide broadcasted event, and this is new in the Netherlands. At the same time, there are problems among a number of the veterans who face psychological disorders, commit domestic violence, feel overwhelmed by guilt and shame, and are perhaps even seduced by deviant behaviour. Fortunately, veterans who seek relief among themselves using social media, biking, writing, and most of all in the company of their family members and at work, are in the wide majority.

A future for Afghanistan? As said, the international community will remain involved in Afghanistan at least for a couple more years. The community’s involvement will have succeeded if the risks of another major attack, such as the one on 9/11, being organized in this region will have been reduced. Besides, the country needs to be stabilized and developed to such a degree that a spillover of chaos and violence to neighbouring Pakistan, possessing dozens of nuclear weapons, will have become unlikely (O’Hanlon and Sherjan, 2010: 32). These two narrowly formulated goals imply a lot more than an emphasis on enemy-centric operations (Rodriguez, 2011). It for sure requires a comprehensive approach, i.e. state building activities in the broadest sense of the word. The most important general issue in this connection is the need to ‘Put an Afghan face on everything’, which is a popular way of saying that the host-nationals need to be involved, even more than today, in their country’s development. If anything, the international community needs to enhance the local footprint; this implies the increased participation of Afghan state institutions, tribal population groups, political factions, NGOs, as well as economic and social associations in the development process (Rietjens et al., 2009). There can be no reconstruction without democratization and participation. A ‘civilian surge’ needs to accompany the ‘military surge’ (O’Hanlon and Sherjan, 2010: 104). And the ‘military surge’ in turn

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needs to become an ‘ANA surge’, a surge of the Afghan National Army, as President Obama declared. Closely connected to this, a so-called ‘political surge’ will need to emerge (Christia and Semple, 2009). This will require an increased degree of attention to the region’s internal and external arena, including the Taliban, the tribal balances, its dark networks of criminals and drug traders and its corruption-inducing governmental practices at all levels of the nation, down to the grass-roots level. The ‘political surge’ cannot be something that takes place in Kabul, the country’s capital, only. Nor can it be something that excludes the neighbouring countries from the analysis. Such a ‘political surge’ will come along with questions of reconciliation. Such questions are never easy to deal with, as we know for instance from South-Africa and Liberia. But those two examples also show that reconciliation without bloody revenge indeed is possible. Therefore, attempts towards reconciliation should be made, at least with the many good willing people living in the communities and districts around the country, not with the stubborn evildoers in isolated hiding places. This will require patience and wisdom, as well as the capacity to appreciate what is going right and criticize what is going wrong. Perhaps it will even require tea-drinking diplomacy (Christia and Semple, 2009). It also demands funding to help potential hostile people join the political process. After all, reconciliation is not something of morals only, it is also about pragmatic calculation of opportunities (O’Hanlon and Sherjan, 2010: 89 and further). Fundamental for a stable state are properly functioning security forces (military and police); the international community will need to further the enlargement and proper equipping of such forces, including the justice systems. This may include giving incentives to former insurgents or opponents to join these Afghan security forces. Such calculation-based movements, flipping from one side to another, are well known in the history of conflicts, all over the world. Integrating former fighters into ordinary societal and state institutions is always one of the most important challenges in post-conflict situations (Christia and Semple, 2009; Tessema and Soeters, 2006). Last but not least, economic and social developments need to be enhanced even more, including the strengthening of opportunities for new trade initiatives with China, India, Pakistan as well as with the European Union and the US. Neither tariffs nor too low prices should prevent the development of international trade from Afghanistan. Since poverty is one of the main drivers of conflict and violence, all efforts should be aimed at getting Afghanistan’s economy and trade to take off. If one tends to be optimistic, all those developments and initiatives will make the country capable of conquering its problems and challenges, at some point in time. If one tends to be pessimistic, if all efforts will prove to be futile, however, the country will fall apart again and violence and oppression will dominate the country once more.

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The end The Dutch Mission Uruzgan has been part of a long-lasting international mission in a society far away from the Western hemisphere. The idea was to expel Taliban forces including their terrorist allies that were suppressing their home country people and endangering the world as they demonstrated with the 9/11 attacks. At the same time the country needed to be developed and stabilized in order to avoid future threats coming from this region in the world. The first results – the Taliban being ousted rapidly in the beginning – were promising, but the subsequent development and nation-building activities proved to be much more problematic. Also the security situation did not prove to be under control despite the tens of thousands of international troops on the ground. Gradually, the ISAF operation – in the eyes of many spectators – turned out to become a Mission Impossible. Impossible in terms of achieving the goals that were set out, impossible because of the financial costs that became increasingly unbearable for the weakening Western economies, and unacceptable with respect to the many human lives that were lost on all sides. Besides, the political-administrative and organizational complexities rendered the whole mission too much of a challenge. Perhaps, as was said in one of the contributions to this book, the whole mission was another example of a ‘state simplification’ (Scott, 1998), in this case an ‘international states simplification’. Probably the international states need to be more modest, next time. It seems they are willing to learn this lesson (O’Hanlon and Sherjan, 2010: 69-70). In this larger context, the Dutch played a small but significant part. They did so with their own style, which is not undisputed but seems to be at least worthy of having a closer look at, now and next time. In September 2011, the Dutch armed forces were engaged in fighting pirates and providing security in the Gulf of Aden, in patrolling the air space above Libya, – once again – on a much smaller scale on the ground in Afghanistan, and still on a very small scale in Bosnia. They – like their colleagues from other countries – are still in demand, and this is likely to continue. The world population is growing rapidly, with a pace of about 1% per annum and this pace is accelerating. Economic and technological developments are not sufficient and discoveries of new resources are not making up for this, creating increasing numbers of very poor people. In a world where the richness of the few can be observed via all sorts of media, this situation is likely to produce dissatisfaction, feelings of relative deprivation, frustration and anger, and, hence, this is likely to cause streams of migrants and the constant emergence of new violent conflicts. In such a world, governments, including the international community, need a strong arm to cope with these threatening events, to secure safe environmental and living conditions, and to protect victims from evil. In this, the Dutch armed forces will continue to play their role, as a loyal mate and professional colleague but with some stubborn idiosyncratic insights on how the job needs to be done. Adding to other valuable national insights and experi-

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ences, the Dutch style may be helpful in making the plans a bit less ambitious, reflecting the complexity of what needs to be done, and respecting the humanity of all people involved.

References Christia, F. and Semple, M. (2009) Flipping the Taliban. How to win in Afghanistan. Foreign Affairs 88(4), 34-45. Derksen, D. (2010) Thee met de Taliban. Oorlogsverslaggeving voor beginners (Tea with the Taliban. War Journalism for Beginners). Breda: de Geus. Dimitriu, G. and B. de Graaf (2010) The Dutch COIN approach: three years in Uruzgan, 2006-2009. Small Wars & Insurgencies 21(3), 429-458. King, A. (2010) Understanding the Helmand campaign: British military operations in Afghanistan. International Affairs 86(2), 311-332. Kitzen, M. (forthcoming) Close encounters of the tribal kind: the implementation of cooption as a tool for de-escalation by the Netherlands’ Taskforce Uruzgan. NL Government (2011) Eindevaluatie bijdrage aan ISAF, 2006-2010 (Final Evaluation of NL Contribution to ISAF, 2006-2010). The Hague. O’Hanlon, M.E. and Sherjan, H. (2010) Toughing it Out in Afghanistan. Washington DC: Brookings Institution Press. Rietjens, S. (2011) Between expectations and reality: the Dutch engagement in Uruzgan. In: Hynek, N. and Marton. P. (eds.) NATO’s Provincial Reconstruction in a Comparative Perspective. London: Routledge, 65-87. Rietjens, S., Bollen, M., Khalil, M. and Wahidi, S.F. (2009) Enhancing the local footprint: participation of Afghan stakeholders in ISAF’s reconstruction activities. Parameters 39(1), 22-36. Rodriguez, D.M. (2011) Leaving Afghanistan to the Afghans. A Commander’s Take on Security. Foreign Affairs 90(5), 45-53. Scott, J.C. (1998) Seeing like a State. How certain Schemes to Improve the Human Condition Have Failed. New Haven and London: Yale UP. Soeters, J. (2012) The warrior reflex. In: Burk, J. (ed.) 9/11. Ten Years After. Cambridge: Cambridge UP (forthcoming). Tessema, M.T. and Soeters, J. (2006). Practices and challenges of converting former fighters into civil servants: the case of Eritrea. Public Administration and Development 26(4), 359-371.

Contributors

Editors Robert Beeres is an associate professor in defence accounting and control at the

Netherlands Defence Academy and Nyenrode Business School. His research focuses on the development of accountability systems, burden sharing and measures of effectiveness in military organizations. On these subjects he published a number of international articles. He is co-editor of a volume on managing military organizations (Routledge, 2010).

Jan van der Meulen is an associate professor at the Netherlands Defence Academy

as well as a professor by special appointment at Leiden University. His focus is on armed forces and society, including the role of public opinion and the media. He has published widely on the sociological aspects of the military, including an acclaimed special issue of Armed Forces and Society on casualty aversion.

Joseph Soeters is a full professor in organization studies at the Netherlands Defence

Academy and Tilburg University. He published widely in managerial, cross-cultural and defence-related journals, and he co-edited volumes on cross-cultural research (Brill, 2004), diversity in the armed forces (Routledge, 2007), multinational military cooperation (Routledge, 2008) and managing military organizations (Routledge, 2010). He authored a monograph on civil wars and terrorism (Routledge, 2005).

Ad Vogelaar is a full professor in Human Resource Management and organizational psychology at the Netherlands Defence Academy. His research work revolves around leadership and teams in the military. He has published a number of academic articles on the subject.

Authors Manon Andres is a lecturer and researcher at the Netherlands Defence Academy. Her research focuses on understanding military families and is directed at work-

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family conflict, well-being, social support, quality of relationships, children’s reactions to separation, and the experiences of parents of service members in the course of military deployments. Marion Bogers is an assistant professor in financial reporting at the Netherlands Defence Academy. Her research work revolves around burden sharing dilemmas within NATO. Myriame Bollen is an associate professor in organization studies at the Netherlands Defence Academy and a member of the Board of the Faculty of Military Sciences. Since 2004, she is a visiting professor at the Baltic Defence College, Estonia. Her research focuses on civil-military cooperation and management of change. Wendy Broesder (Colonel) is a researcher at the Netherlands Institute of Interna-

tional Relations Clingendael. She finished her PhD project in psychology at the Catholic University of Leuven. Her thesis deals with the interaction between the warrior and peacekeeper role identity of military personnel during deployment.

Tom Bijlsma (Res. Major) is an assistant professor in organization studies at the

Netherlands Defence Academy. His PhD study deals with learning in and around teams in all branches of the military.

Edwin Dado is an associate professor of civil-engineering at the Netherlands

Defence Academy.

Sander Dalenberg (Lieutenant-Colonel and organizational psychologist) started his

career as a tank platoon commander. His current position is lecturer and researcher in leadership and ethics at the Netherlands Defence Academy. His research focuses on leadership, shared mental models, moral competence and value concurrence in action teams and during education.

Christiaan Davids (Major) used to be an assistant professor in management account-

ing at the Netherlands Defence Academy; he currently is a staff officer at the accounting department of the Netherlands armed forces. His PhD study deals with management accounting and control during the military missions in Afghanistan.

Paul Ducheine (Colonel) is an associate professor in military law at the Netherlands Defence Academy and a researcher at the Amsterdam Centre of International Law of the University of Amsterdam. He published a PhD study on the use of force against non-state actors (terrorist groups). His research focuses on legal bases and regimes for military operations.

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Paul C. van Fenema (www.paulcvanfenema.com) is an associate professor of organization studies at Netherlands Defence Academy. He has published widely on coordination and control in journals such as MIS Quarterly and Journal of International Business Studies. He has co-edited a volume on knowledge management and virtual teams (Palgrave, 2008) and a volume on managing military organizations (Routledge, 2010). Miriam de Graaff is affiliated with the Royal Netherlands Army and Twente University. She primarily conducts research in the field of organizational and moral psychology. Furthermore she is involved in policy making and the development and training of military leaders. Mirjam Grandia Mantas (Captain) is a PhD candidate at the University of Leiden

and the Netherlands Defence Academy. Her research is about how and why the United Kingdom and the Netherlands have used military means for the stabilization of South-Afghanistan.

Tim Grant is a full professor in Command & Control systems at the Netherlands

Defence Academy. He served as a Royal Air Force officer for 20 years, followed by 17 years in the IT services industry specializing in planning and control for manned space, defence, and motorway control.

Jacqueline Heeren-Bogers is an assistant professor in management and cost account-

ing and management control at the Netherlands Defence Academy. Her PhD thesis revolves around the need for soft controls in the Defence Organization. Gijs van de Heuvel is a PhD researcher at Tilburg University and the Netherlands

Defence Academy. His research focuses on information sharing in network-centric operations, and balances on the intersection of organization studies, information systems, and science and technology studies.

Masood Khalil is the Program Manager of the Baz Consultancy Unit for the Reha-

bilitation of Afghani­stan and has worked as Executive Director of the Afghan NGOs Coordination Bureau (ANCB). He has more than 14 years of experience in the management of non-governmental organizations. Ton van Kampen (Lieutenant-Colonel) used to be a lecturer and researcher on mili-

tary logistics at Netherlands Defence Academy. He currently is head of the expertise centre on logistics in the Netherlands army. He studied transport and logistics management at Tilburg University and was in 2007 head of logistics operations in Afghanistan.

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Esmeralda Kleinreesink (Lieutenant-Colonel) is an assistant professor in management information systems and accounting systems at the Netherlands Defence Academy. Her PhD study concerns a cross-cultural study of books written by soldier-authors on their experiences in Afghanistan. Martijn Kitzen is an assistant professor in military operational art and sciences at the

Netherlands Defence Academy; he is currently completing a PhD study on cooption with local power-holders in counterinsurgency campaigns. In addition to his scholarly work, he is also involved in pre-deployment training of Dutch troops and he was an advisor for Task Force Uruzgan.

Guus de Koster (Lieutenant-Colonel) is an assistant professor in military operations

art and sciences at the Netherlands Defence Academy. A former F-16 fighter pilot he is now lecturing on the operational aspects of air power.

Eric-Hans Kramer is an associate professor in psychology, and human factors and

safety at the Netherlands Defence Academy. His work has been published as a book (Copenhagen Business School Press, 2007) and in a number of academic journals.

Jasper Kremers (Major) graduated in 2009 at the University of Twente as a civilengineer. He works as an officer in the Royal Netherlands Army. Irene Lubberman-Schrotenboer (Captain) is a lecturer in Management Control and

Public Finance at the Netherlands Defence Academy. Her PhD study relates to payment systems in (post-) conflict situations using an analytical framework based on new institutional economics and network theory.

Marten Meijer (commander Royal Netherlands Navy) used to be an assistant pro-

fessor in military psychology at the Netherlands Defence academy. He currently is a staff officer in the field of information transfer. He has published a PhD study at Erasmus University in Rotterdam on human resources management of military personnel. His research focuses on military mental health and the effectiveness of modern military operations.

René Moelker is an associate professor of armed forces and society at the Netherlands Defence Academy. He has published on a wide range of topics including military families and international military cooperation. One of his main results was revealing forgotten work by Norbert Elias on the genesis of the naval officer (University College Dublin Press, 2007). Ton de Munnik (Colonel, retired) used to be an associate professor in military operational art and sciences and head of the war studies department at the Netherlands

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Defence Academy. He served as an infantry career officer and contributed substantially to doctrine development. His research focuses on military operations in Iraq and Afghanistan. Peter Olsthoorn holds a PhD degree from Leiden University in political theory. He

is assistant professor at the Netherlands Defence Academy, where he teaches ethics and public administration. He is the author of a number of articles on military virtues such as honour, courage, and integrity and he published a book on military ethics and virtues (Routledge 2010).

Eric Pouw (Major) is a lecturer in military law at the Netherlands Defence Academy

and a PhD candidate at the Amsterdam Centre of International Law of the University of Amsterdam. His research concerns the relationship between international human rights law and the law of armed conflict in the context of contemporary counterinsurgency operations.

Rudy Richardson is an assistant professor at the Netherlands Defence Academy

and professor at the Stoas University of Applied Sciences. In both institutions, he conducts research on cultural diversity in organizations. He has published on cultural diversity and research methodology in national and international books and journals.

Sebastiaan Rietjens (Res. Major) is an assistant professor at the Netherlands

Defence Academy, where he is primarily involved in research and lecturing on civilmilitary cooperation. He has published in a large range of international civilian and military journals. His doctorate study was published by Brill (2008). He co-edited a book entitled Managing Civil-Military Cooperation: A 24/7 joint effort for stability (Ashgate, 2008).

Tessa Op den Buijs holds a PhD degree from Tilburg University, which was based on a large scale research project on stress among peacekeepers deployed to Bosnia. She is an assistant professor at the Netherlands Defence Academy. Natasja Rietveld completed her dissertation about the perception of guilt and shame among Dutch veterans in 2009. Since 2010 she works as researcher at the Netherlands Defence Academy. Her research focuses on ethnic minorities in the defence organization, acculturation orientations, multicultural attitudes, peace operations, veterans, moral dilemmas and moral emotions. Michelle Schut graduated in 2009 at the University of Leiden in the Netherlands

as Cultural Anthropologist and Development Sociologist. In September 2010, she started at the Radboud University Nijmegen and Netherlands Defence Academy a

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PhD project regarding moral and socio-cultural critical situations in military practice. Rosa Nelly Tevinyo-Rodriguez holds a PhD in Family Business Management from

IESE Business School (Barcelona, Spain). She worked for the legal firm Cuatrecasas (Barcelona, Spain) and founded the Family Business Center at Monterrey Tech - ITESM, Monterrey Campus (Monterrey, Mexico). Her main research interests include intergenerational knowledge transfer and wealth management in family business contexts.

Desiree Verweij is professor in philosophy and ethics at the Netherlands Defence

Academy and at the Centre for International Conflict Analysis and Management (CICAM) at the Radboud University Nijmegen. Her research focuses on the individual, the organizational and the political level of the ethics of military practice.

Erik de Waard is an assistant professor in organization studies at the Netherlands Defence Academy. His PhD study deals with the managerial and structural aspects of deployments. He has published in the International Journal of Project Management and Financial Accountability & Management. Michiel de Weger is a lecturer and researcher in operational studies at the Netherlands Defence Academy. A former Royal Netherlands Navy officer, he has published a PhD study on the domestic role of the Netherlands military (Van Gorcum, 2006). His publications also include analyses of (counter) terrorism, crime, intelligence, public order and disaster management. Julia Wijnmalen is a PhD researcher at University of Twente and the Netherlands

Defence Academy. Her research focuses on construction management processes in stabilization and reconstruction operations.