Against reports of extraordinary rendition, water-boarding and the ‘bad apples’ of Abu Ghraib, Coalition Provisional Authority Order 17 seems a relatively incongruous component of the ‘War on Terror’. The apparent barbarism of ‘enhanced interrogation’ may have earned more column inches and protestations, but it is Order 17 that has arguably had the greatest impact upon the way in which the ‘coalition of the willing’ has structured and conducted its war in the Persian Gulf. The controversial order awards private military firms licences to operate in Iraq, immunising their employees against prosecution by local courts. This has sparked outrage when companies are seen to abuse their power and get away with it: by way of example, consider an incident outlined by law clerk Richard Morgan in the Chicago Journal of International Law, in which Triple Canopy employees shot at a civilian vehicle driving down ‘Route Irish’ – the road linking Baghdad airport with the fortified central ‘Green Zone’ – killing its driver. The incident went unreported by the company in question lest it jeopardise contracts, and though two of the men directly responsible subsequently lost their jobs, no criminal case was mounted. Were such an act committed by the American armed forces, Morgan argues, both the culprits and their supervisors could have been tried for war crimes.[1]
The precise legal parameters of Order 17 might be new, but licenced mercenaries are, of course, far from recent innovations. Engseng Ho, amongst others, has sketched historical parallels to the privateers of the sixteenth century, who hunted foreign ships in order to seize their riches, an act beneficial to British monarchs fearful of Spain’s formidably powerful armada. “So privateers were pirates with licences from their government: they were private contractors” Ho concludes, “and English Queens and Kings grew fat and majestic selling those foreign licences; they listened less and less to their own people at home, and more and more to the private contractors abroad.”[2] The fear of compromised loyalties – of governments indebted to corporations rather than citizens – is of continued concern to those who have addressed the recent intensification of such privatisation, not least Naomi Klein in her study/indictment of the ‘disaster-capitalists’ who profit heavily from war’s perpetuation. Route Irish hints at the scale and ambition of this growing industry by having a fictional CEO boast, not unbelievably, his intention to “sort out a place like Darfur” once Iraq’s opportunities have been exhausted.
Considering their reputations as outspoken members of the filmmaking left, it might surprise some that Ken Loach and screenwriter Paul Laverty haven’t tackled the subject of Iraq before now; indeed, Loach admits that it was for a long time “the elephant in our sitting room”.[3] Furthermore, the decision to target businesses rather than politicians might strike some as unusual – though a recent statement from Loach suggesting that “David Milliband shouldn’t be in office, he should be in prison” suggests it’s not for lack of anger at the actions of Blair and co.[4] Instead, Loach and Laverty focus on the systematic restructuring of war not as the pursuit of politics by other means (to paraphrase Carl von Clausewitz’s oft-quoted aphorism) but the pure pursuit of profits, which has produced, in the words of Newsweek reporter Michael Hirsh, a “moral vacuum… where a man can gun down women and children anytime he pleases, knowing he will never be brought to justice… where morality is null and void, and arbitrary killing is the rule”.[5] Loach and Laverty are careful, however, not to tar all contractors with the same brush. The obvious motivation – money – is naturally addressed, but while financial rewards are plentiful (£10,000 a month, tax-free is the figure quoted in the film) high wages aren’t the characters’ sole incentive for returning to the streets of Baghdad time and time again. The substantial paycheques buy Fergus a swanky flat, but its interior is bear, little more than a polished fox-hole for sleeping in, with rations of instant noodles on the marble worktop confirming his sparse existence. The opening credits imply a more likely, similarly non-political impetus for his chosen vocation, with a teenage Fergus and Frankie gazing out across the Mersey and debating the infinite possibilities the wide world has to offer. In this context, a military career (whether enlisting for Queen and country, or joining the payroll of a private firm) equates to adventure – a means to tour the globe. Later, Frankie’s widow Rachel offers a further possibility – the fraternal bond of brothers in arms – by bitterly blaming Fergus for her husband’s death, arguing “he didn’t go to Iraq for the money; he went to be with you… I think he loved you”.
While Fergus admits the two men shared everything, he insists that only Rachel knew the ‘real’ Frankie - the best part, the part “without a gun in his hand”. But this distinction between soldier and civilian is at risk: just as private military firms blur the distinction between warfare and industry, Fergus’s investigation into his best friend’s death hastens the fusing of the two sides of his identity. The first time Fergus surveys passing members of the public from his balcony it is through binoculars; the second time, through the sight of a sniper rifle. The merging culminates in a brutal waterboarding conducted in a garage in Liverpool; horrors previously kept ‘over there’ brought viscerally home.
Loach has reportedly steeled himself for a frosty response from critics and anticipates an underwhelming box office, noting the difficulty he faced securing a distribution deal. Though pragmatic in his view that “people don’t make films to communicate; they make it as a commodity”,[6] an unorthodox release strategy utilising Sky Movies Premier - which will place the film (and by extension, its subject matter) in a wider public sphere than it might otherwise have reached – suggests he hasn’t given up on pedagogy entirely. British troops first entered Iraq eight years ago this month, with combat operations declared over last year. But with an estimated 8300 private contractors still operating in the country at the start of 2011,[7] this film’s attempted intervention remains uncomfortably timely.
[1] Richard Morgan (2008) ‘Professional Military Firms under International Law’ Chicago Journal of International Law 9:1 pp. 213-4
[2] Engseng Ho (2004) ‘Pirate-Privateer-Private Contractor’ in Bregje van Eekelen (ed.) Shock and Awe: War on Words (New Pacific Press; Santa Cruz, California) pp. 118-20
[3] Mark Brown (2010) ‘After an unexpected detour into comedy, the old Ken Loach is back with an angry look at Iraq’ The Guardian accessed at http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2010/may/19/ken-loach-route-irish-cannes
[4] ibid
[5] Michael Hirsch (2007) ‘The Age of Responsibility’ Newsweek accessed at http://www.newsweek.com/2007/09/19/the-age-of-irresponsibility.html
[6] Q&A, conducted at the Glasgow Film Theatre February 2011
[7] Moshe Schwartz (2011) ‘The Department of Defense’s Use of Private Security Contractors in Afghanistan and Iraq: Background, Analysis, and Options for Congress’, Congressional Research Service report for Congress, accessed http://www.fas.org/sgp/crs/natsec/R40764.pdf
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