7-7

Crispin Black

• Publisher: Gibson Square
• Year: 2010
• ISBN:
  9781908096166
• Topic: Politik & Internationale Beziehungen
• Subtopic: Terrorismus

How could a moment of triumph about the Olympic Bid turn into a catastrophe? These terrible events follow on the continuing revelations that the intelligence reports that were the government's basis for the invasion of Iraq were deeply flawed and the recent admission by the Ministry of Defence that it failed to foresee the size and ferocity of the Iraq insurgency. Something is very wrong in how Britain collects and analyses intelligence. In "7-7: What Went Wrong?", Crispin Black shows that fundamental flaws in our current approach to calibrating and understanding the terrorist threat -- an unwillingness for instance to take on board the effects of our foreign policy on loyalty at home and a generally slack approach to border security have produced a toxic threat to national security. Taken all together there is the uncomfortable suspicion that instead of gathering intelligence, their aim is to please their masters. In his compelling and authoritative analysis, Black shows the cumulative threats that have amassed over the years through the slow reactions of our intelligence and security services -- despite for instance the repeated warnings of the French and more recent warnings from the Middle East and the United States. He makes suggestions for reform.

1

Thursday 7 July 2005

Not since the 500lbs bombs slammed into the RFA Sir Galahad during the Falklands War had I been so close to death on a large scale. I was two hundred and fifty yards from the Tavistock Square bomb and a few hundred feet from Russell Square tube station.

We had known something was wrong straight away when the television reported power surges on the tube across London. It was not good news. ‘Power surges’ sounded suspiciously like a codename for a serious emergency on the tube line. I was uneasy to say the least. Then some minutes later we heard a detonation—muffled but distinct.

I had certainly been bombed before—by the Argentine Naval Air force in their daring attacks on the landing ships at Bluff Cove in 1982—and I had heard bombs going off in Belfast in the mid 1980s. This bomb was nearby, but there was no concussion or shock wave and no windows broken—so it was small. It was a Belfast-type bomb rather than anything more dramatic. Small and possibly very nasty, but not on a grand scale. As we were certain it was a bomb, the ‘power surges’ were probably bombs too.

I can’t say that I was ever especially frightened in the Falklands, even when the bombs were raining down. But that was different. I was young and a professional soldier, and when a second wave of enemy planes came in later that day we were able to shoot back. Perhaps not to much effect, but it was good for the soul. On 7 July 2005, I was a civilian with a family to look after—and all one could do was wait for what else might lie in store.

All this was happening quite quickly. Two uncomfortable thoughts lodged in my mind. From the information available it looked as though London was under attack from a series of comparatively small bombs mainly on the tube—but was the series complete after the bus bomb in Tavistock Square? Or worse, was the series of small bombs just a prelude to a ‘spectacular’ of some sort?

A year before I had taken part in a BBC Panorama programme in which a group of experts under the former Defence Secretary Michael Portillo tried to grapple with the effects of a terrorist attack on London. The communications expert was Lance Price who has recently published a book on his time in Downing Street as Alastair Campbell’s number two. I played the part of the cabinet office intelligence briefer, a task I had performed for real from 1999–2002.

We were organised as COBRA, the government’s most senior crisis management committee. The atmospheric acronym (much loved by the producers of ‘Spooks’ and other spy-related dramas) stands for Cabinet Office Briefing Room A, the ultra-high tech underground command and communications centre beneath the Cabinet Office—shown off to President Putin on his recent visit to Downing Street. It is where our national response to an emergency or crisis is co-ordinated. A senior official or middle-ranking government minister is usually in the chair for more routine emergencies, with all the relevant departments and agencies represented as required, including the armed forces. In a serious crisis COBRA is chaired by the Foreign or Home Secretary and sometimes by the prime minister, as on 9/12 and indeed 7 July and 8 July. It is a very effective and professional way to make quick decisions in a crisis and a credit to both our political leaders and our civil service—who practise the procedures regularly.

The BBC’s mock-up version was very much like the real thing. But, chillingly, in the scenario we played out a series of suicide tube bombs were just the prelude to a suicide detonation of a fully-laden chlorine tanker on Bishopsgate. In the exercise we were just about able to handle the tube bombs, but the chlorine tanker caused mass casualties and we were effectively overwhelmed.

Was something like this about to happen for real? I was like most Londoners that day afraid—partly of what had happened, but partly also of what more might happen during the day.

The mobile telephone network went down almost immediately, but I got through to home on the landline. Used to giving orders in the army—it had been a relief to return to a more negotiated life-style—I was giving orders at this stage. Get everyone back home and then stay there. There must have been many calls like that on the day.

Luckily within minutes I knew where all the members of my family were. None of them travelled on the tube—I had long felt it was too dangerous, mainly because of the terrorist threat. The thought of frightened and bewildered children trapped underground had always haunted me. It was one of the minor blessings of both 9/11 (and 7 July it would turn out) that no children were killed. Natural claustrophobia reinforced by my experiences in the Falklands meant that I rarely used the tube myself preferring a longer commute on the bus.

Everyone had been expecting some kind of attack on London—by Islamists. I had preached long and hard whenever I got the opportunity on television and in occasional articles in the press against the idea that terrorist attacks were inevitable—a corrosive doctrine that aggrandises terrorists and stokes fear and passivity into their intended victims.

I felt strongly (and still do) that we can so order our affairs to make terrorism of any kind very, very difficult to carry off—certainly much more difficult than on 7 July. But anyone with any knowledge of Islamist terrorism or London’s vulnerabilities knew that someone was likely to have a crack at us at some point.

The telephone rang with a request to come to the Millbank television studios. I had been commenting for some time on the twin subjects of intelligence and terrorism—news and occasionally sustained analysis. There had been considerable spikes activity during the Hutton and later the Butler Inquiries on the intelligence role in the Iraq War.

Most of the leading UK and US channels had plans in place on how they would cover terrorist attacks in London and by a pre-arranged plan I made my way down on foot to Millbank studios opposite parliament to try and give some live ‘expert’ commentary and make sense of what had happened. When I left Russell Square the various channels we were monitoring were gradually piecing together events with emphasis naturally on what exactly had happened, how many casualties there had been, and who might have been responsible.

* * *

Millbank studios is an unusual place—all the major world networks have offices or hired space there, ranging from the big English-speaking channels to NHK—the Japanese equivalent of the BBC. Sitting in a TV studio less than two hours after the last bomb was an extraordinary and slightly strange experience.

I had heard one of the bombs go off and had walked down through the police cordon in Russell Square. I had experienced the effects of bombs in Northern Ireland and had survived a disastrous bombing in the Falklands. I knew about terrorism and had spent large parts of my 20s and 30s soldiering against the IRA. I knew about intelligence from my time in the Defence Intelligence Staff and the Cabinet Office. And I knew a bit about how the government would be trying to respond to the crisis having attended various COBRAs including the one on 9/12 chaired by Tony Blair. Latterly I had begun to know my way a little around television studios and understand how news bulletins are put together.

And here it all was in front of me—the media drama being played out. The real drama and tragedy had happened hours before but the interpretation we would put upon events was essentially still up for grabs.

I was irritated on arrival to see one of the foreign channels broadcasting a banner which read ‘chaos and panic in London’. It was a rough day, particularly for those caught up in the bombs and their families—but there was absolutely no chaos and panic where I had come from, the scene pretty much of two of the bombs. Foreboding, fear, perhaps, but no panic and no chaos. Of course crisismanagement inevitably involves some improvisation—some of the lightly wounded were taken to hospitals by commandeered buses. But that just goes to show the professionalism and flexibility of emergency response staff. Sometimes one has to wonder about the media.

It was clear from the start that the rescue services and police and community support officers (unsung heroes often) on the ground had performed well. Anyone in London on that day could see that. Congratulations were in order for the rescue services and the passers by that helped, and the millions of calm resigned Londoners who just got on with their lives that day. Remember that they had no idea that the series of bombs had finished with the explosion on the Tavistock Square bus. In the past the IRA and other terrorist networks have used the tactic of the ‘secondary device’. Set off a bomb causing death and injury. Wait until the emergency services have gathered and then set off another bomb designed to kill as many of them as possible.

I made a number of short appearances on various channels, and retired to a quiet corner to compose a newspaper article with a near impossible deadline and update myself through various contacts inside the studios and elsewhere.

I had an easy job—I knew and was finding out enough—to make informed comment which I hoped was helpful. And the TV professionals, graceful under pressure, haul you on and off when you are required, usually with some steer as to the latest angle but sometimes not—particularly with new and breaking facts. I remember saying on a number of occasions that the attacks so far, although horrible for those affected, were within London’s resilience as a large city—or something on those lines. This was fair. It was becoming obvious as the day went on that this was not a catastrophic attack and the longer the delay in any follow-on attack, the safer we were becoming.

The great and the good were making their way into the studios. The Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police—shorter and less bulky than you would expect, and immaculate in his uniform—strode past, followed by what looked like a large staff. The poor man looked furious—as he should have been. Just before the bombs hit he had been doing a radio interview on how good the security was going to be for the 2012 Olympics. The leader of the opposition arrived, the movement of his legs obscured by desks and computer equipment, he seemed to glide across the floor.

It was widely accepted—though it may have remained unsaid for some time—that the bombs probably had an Islamist extremist origin. Some had been suggesting a North African connection and the word on the streets was that we were seeking help and advice from the Spanish authorities, which seemed to confirm this. Others, more ominously, were coming to the conclusion that these might be British plots. Everyone I spoke to that day was hoping that the perpetrators would not turn out to be British, but acknowledged the strong possibility that they might be.

As the day progressed, we were all probably right to be relieved. It was not 9/11. Yes it could have been worse if the attacks that had happened had been delivered in a different way. But once the initial facts of the attacks were established by the media doing their job to the best of their ability, a weirder atmosphere took hold—almost of self-congratulation.

Official spokesmen said over and over again that the situation was under control, over and over again how well the rescue services were doing, over and over again how well Londoners were facing up to the tragedy—as if somehow these things were separate from the realities on the ground and by saying them again and again we could make them true. I think in the end they were all true, but how did anyone know at the time?

And was it the right emphasis when so many of our fellow citizens had been horribly killed or wounded that day? Do not for a single moment believe that people die straight away in bombs. It may have been quick for some, but not for others. The message at the end of the day seemed to be almost like the administration of a public sedative.

* * *

My conclusion was rather different: I was furious...