Abuse of Iraqi prisoners reveals a lack of discipline among UK troops and arrogance at the MoD

In the summer of 2002, as British troops were preparing to invade Iraq, a senior army officer emailed a colleague about a meeting that had taken place on how to handle prisoners. The officer noted that the meeting was addressed by a US army captain “who told us all about what they were doing in Bagram [in Afghanistan] and Guantánamo“. The British officer continued: “It did enable me to remind the assembled crowd … not to get too wound up in prisoners’ rights at the expense of intelligence.”

This telling exchange is among many heard over the past two weeks at the thinly attended public inquiry, adjourned today until the autumn, into the death of Baha Mousa, a Basra hotel receptionist, in the custody of British soldiers in September 2003. The inquiry has already painted a picture of a military chain of command either unsure of what interrogation techniques are prohibited under domestic and international law, or willing to ignore them. As far back as 1965, the joint intelligence committee issued a directive to military interrogators. Apart from moral considerations, it said: “Torture and physical cruelty of all kinds are professionally unrewarding, since a suspect may be persuaded to talk, but not to tell the truth.”

British and US military interrogators and security and intelligence agencies chose to forget this axiom as they captured suspected insurgents in Iraq and Afghanistan. They were also ignorant, we are told, of past controversies. After evidence of abuse in Northern Ireland, Edward Heath told the Commons in 1972 that five techniques – wall-standing, hooding, subjection to noise, sleep deprivation, and deprivation of food and drink – would be banned “in any future operations worldwide, unless parliament decided otherwise”. A hitherto secret document released at the Baha Mousa inquiry heard that senior British officers responsible for the conduct of military operations claimed they were unaware of the ruling “until it was raised in the last two weeks”. The document was dated 17 May 2004, well after Mousa’s death but a few days after another incident involving allegations of abuse of Iraqi civilians.

The inquiry heard how a British soldier screamed at hooded Iraqi prisoners, and others made Iraqis cry out in an “orchestrated choir”. According to hitherto unreported evidence at the inquiry, one soldier who happened to be passing a room in the British detention centre in Basra described seeing an Iraqi detainee “kneeling on the floor with his legs crossed behind him and his hands tied behind his back. He was hooded and had his head bowed. There was a soldier beating him really hard. The detainee had his hands tied behind his back, he couldn’t fight back.”

The inquiry heard how another detainee “was struggling to maintain the stress position and [a British soldier] was screaming at him, ‘Sit up, Grandad!’. A large soldier was kneeing this detainee hard in the back … All of the detainees were in a state of distress. They were shaking, whimpering and crying, and they had soiled themselves. He says there was a really strong smell and there were pools of faeces and urine.”

As the inquiry was getting under way in London, the Ministry of Defence was being forced in the high court to concede a separate independent inquiry into allegations that British soldiers mutilated and murdered civilians in Amara, north of Basra, on 14 May 2004. It was forced to do so after it infuriated senior judges by withholding from the court vital evidence, including correspondence with ministers, about the incident.

These incidents, and there may be more, reveal a worrying lack of discipline among British soldiers and arrogance among senior defence officials. The good thing is that lawyers, judges and human rights laws are subjecting their activities to unprecedented scrutiny.