Iraq Inquiry

Lord Craig of Radley Excerpts

Tuesday 12th July 2016 Lords Chamber

[Lord Craig of Radley (CB)]

My Lords, this long-awaited report has done a thorough and commendable job. I wish to comment on two particular issues: the way the inquiry has sought to apportion responsibility for things that did not go right in the period from 2002 to 2009, and some of the lessons that should be drawn from what happened.

By and large, the report’s criticisms are directed at either Ministers or senior service personnel. I do not intend to attempt to second-guess any of those criticisms, other than to make the perhaps obvious point that what is clear with the benefits of mature reflection and 20/20 hindsight may not have been known to, or so apparent to, those concerned at the time. It is certainly my recollection that the prevailing view at the time, post-conflict, was very much optimistic. One enduring issue—not, it appears, so explicitly dealt with in the inquiry—which I am aware of from my own experience with the first Gulf War in 1991, is how to apportion the responsibility shared between Ministers and the military for shortfalls. For example, there were shortfalls in preparations for operations and their subsequent periods, or in the conduct of operations.

If, for instance, Ministers wish to commit forces to an operation, how far should they or their predecessors in office be held blameworthy because of gaps or shortages in capability recommended by the operational requirement process but judged to be less important or unaffordable at the time? With the timescales for major equipment programmes, it is indeed unlikely that the Ministers involved in procurement decisions will still be in office.

The military can-do reaction to ministerial demands—as commended by Chilcot—is of course laudable, and with £35 billion or so of annual budgets, blunt refusals are unrealistic. But pressures to delay or shorten preparation for deployment times lie uneasily with the reasonable Chilcot view that military timetables should not dictate diplomatic ones. At heart are matters of risk, not just the major risk of a failure of a mission, but also the risk of casualties, and that is never easy to predict in a fight. Another risk, as highlighted in the inquiry, was that the UK feared being excluded from US plans unless they were offering ground forces. Taking such risks, while important to consider, cannot realistically be blamed individually, if they occur. A decision to commit forces beyond planning assumptions sounds unwise, unless national interests are under serious attack, when the decision to fight has to be with what you have, or to surrender. The commitment of forces to an expeditionary operation would seem to lend itself to a judgment about how far, and at what risk, to go. But as in so much else to do with such operations, the unfolding of events and the macrostrategic issues are most likely the dominant drivers, rather than putative risks, in reaching decisions.

The separation of responsibility between Ministers and senior commanders in operations is now also very different in the days of instant communication. I am reminded of an apocryphal story. An admiral at sea in the days of sail, seeking ministerial direction, would hand his quill-written request to the captain of his fastest frigate. Sails set, he would make all speed to bear the message to their Lordships in London, catching a tide up the Thames some three weeks later. Immediately —and to catch the falling tide—he would have their Lordships’ response. This would be with the admiral some six weeks after he had sent it. Today, the commander at sea, or in the field, can of course instantaneously signal the Ministry of Defence. The response will also reach him instantaneously, maybe some six weeks later.

Modern communications though, have also led to the explicit involvement of Ministers in live operations; for instance, giving approval to aerial attacks on a target. The scale and pace of recent operations make such involvement practical, and politically it may be essential for Ministers, who have the responsibility to describe and defend operations in public. Faced with a more aggressive foe, however, leading to the loss of ships or aircraft, such minute-to-minute involvement could become unmanageable. If things do not go as planned, who then is to blame?

Finally, I endorse strongly Chilcot’s views on the importance of news management. In the first Gulf War, when dealing, for example, with the loss of aircraft, comment would be sought almost simultaneously in the 24-hour news cycle from spokesmen in Riyadh, London and maybe Washington. Getting consistency in responses—when the veracity of the original claim had perhaps not been fully established—called for constant interaction and preparation against possible events or calamities. News management—I do not mean that in a pejorative sense—was difficult then. Social media have compounded the difficulties, but the success or failure of public support for an operation may depend on how the facts are reported and commented on. Chilcot is right to give this vital lesson renewed prominence.