Last month the European Commission proposed that the EU should mobilize the next tranche of funding for Turkey (€3 billion) under the EU–Turkey deal agreed in 2016. The deal is part of a rapidly developing strategy on the part of the EU to improve cooperation on migration issues with countries of origin as well as those through which migrants and refugees transit en route to Europe. Since 2015, the EU has ramped up negotiations, with the New Partnership Framework underpinning arrangements with countries such as Niger, Mali and Ethiopia, and endorsing a memorandum of understanding between Italy and Libya in February 2017.

A common thread that runs across all of these deals is their focus on containment in exchange for funding, rather than a principled approach to refugee protection. For example, the EU has committed around €6 billion to Turkey as a contribution towards the cost of humanitarian assistance for the over 3 million Syrian refugees residing there. This funding also operates as an incentive for Turkey to take back all refugees and migrants who have irregularly arrived in Greece via Turkey since the deal entered effect.

Similarly, the EU is providing financial support to Libya in exchange for its cooperation in reducing the flow of migrants and refugees towards Europe, while the New Partnership Framework aims to reduce the number of migrants and refugees departing for Europe in exchange for EU aid. While financial incentives geared towards containment do not amount to new policy, with the increasing number of deals being negotiated, the use of such a strategy appears to be both accelerating and becoming more explicit.

An effective investment?

Implementation of these deals has been hindered by obligations under international law, raising questions not only as to their legality but also their value for money.

Under the EU–Turkey deal, refugees arriving in Greece irregularly were to be returned to Turkey, with an equal number of Syrian refugees resettled to Europe in exchange. However, implementation of this aspect of the deal has been limited.

Under EU asylum law, Greece is obliged to provide access to asylum procedures for those arriving on its shores. Given that most arrivals from Turkey came from refugee-producing countries (including Syria, Afghanistan and Iraq), an individualized assessment of ‘safe third country’ is required before any possible return to Turkey can take place. This requires a finding that Turkey can guarantee effective access to protection for the individual in question, including protection against refoulement (i.e. forced return to a country where he or she is at risk of serious harm or persecution). By the end March 2018, only 2,164 people had been returned to Turkey.

As for Italy, with EU support, under the MOU with Libya it has been training as well as providing funding and logistical support to the Libyan coastguard – including an Italian naval presence in Libyan waters – to intercept boats in the Mediterranean. Given the mounting evidence of abuse of migrants and refugees, whether by Libyan coastguards or inside Libyan detention centres, this raises questions as to whether the support being provided by Italy and the EU amounts to a breach of international law.

Despite concerns about the protection risks for refugees, advocates of such deals claim they have the potential to prevent dangerous journeys, saving lives and interrupting the business model of smugglers. Numbers crossing the Mediterranean have indeed dropped since the deals were agreed. However, in Libya it has created an ‘anti-smuggling’ market which, despite leading to a reduction of migration in the short term, may not be sustainable in the long term if it drives conflict between various non-state actors.

In the case of the EU–Turkey deal, while it has led to a fall in arrivals to the Greek islands in the first six months of 2017, there is also evidence that smugglers were already adapting their routes, forcing refugees and migrants to travel on the more dangerous central Mediterranean route.

For now, at least, these deals appear to have gained significant popular support within the EU. Italy’s approaches in Libya, for example, have been broadly backed by the Italian public – unsurprising given that some polls indicate 50 percent of the Italian population believe migrants to be a threat to public security. However, the drivers of public attitudes towards refugees and migration are complex and, as noted in a policy brief published under the Chatham House–ODI Forum on Refugee and Migration Policy, influenced in part by narratives driven by politicians and the media.

What some of these deals have achieved is the significant flow of aid money towards job creation and economic opportunities for refugees, incentivizing policy change in some contexts and producing real benefits for the refugees concerned (while reducing pressures on them to move onwards via dangerous journeys).

A prominent example is the Jordan Compact, a 2016 agreement between Jordan, the EU and international financial institutions including the World Bank to improve the livelihoods and education of Syrian refugees inside Jordan. While challenges in its implementation remain, including concerns about labour rights, the Jordan Compact has resulted in real improvements in education and access to the labour market for Syrian refugees. The Jordanian government has made policy concessions on access to work permits for Syrian refugees, removing some of the barriers that prevented refugees accessing jobs, while the EU has committed to ease trade barriers for goods produced in Jordanian factories on condition they hire a percentage of Syrian refugees.

Likewise, the EU–Turkey deal’s most successful component has been its financial contribution of €3 billion of aid under the EU Facility for Refugees towards support for the 3.7 million Syrian refugees currently being hosted by Turkey. This includes €1 billion allocated to the Emergency Social Safety Net, described by the European Commission as the ‘largest single humanitarian project in the history of the EU’, directly impacting the livelihoods of some 1.1 million vulnerable refugees.

Moving ahead

While some aspects of these deals reflect a genuine effort to cooperate in addressing the needs of refugees, other elements risk undermining the very essence of the global refugee protection regime.

The diplomatic squabble over a proposed refugee ‘swap’ of 1,250 refugees between the US and Australia in February 2017 highlights the danger of refugees becoming bargaining chips. Similarly, the Kenyan government’s announcement that it would close Dadaab refugee camp in late November 2016 cited the EU-Turkey deal as justification. Migration partnerships which emphasise the securing of EU borders against refugee arrivals may diminish the willingness of states in the Global South to continue to host large numbers of refugees.

While the positive aspects of such deals deserve acknowledgement, understanding their impact on refugee protection must be given greater attention. This is vital not only to ensure their workability but also to ensure that those countries who spearheaded the creation of the global refugee protection regime do not end up undermining its existence.

On 10 September, US National Security Advisor John Bolton used his first major speech since joining the White House to attack the International Criminal Court’s (ICC) potential investigation of American personnel in Afghanistan. The ‘American patriots’, as Bolton describes them, are being investigated for potential torture and ill-treatment of detainees, mostly in 2003 and 2004, during the United States-led invasion of the country.

Bolton has a long history of opposition to the ICC. Although the US signed the ICC Statute under president Bill Clinton, it was ‘unsigned’ by Bolton, then an under-secretary of state in the George W Bush administration.

And when the court first opened its doors in 2002, Bolton helped secure, in what he described on 10 September as one of his ‘proudest achievements’, around 100 bilateral agreements with other countries to prevent them from delivering US personnel to the ICC. Those agreements were often extracted under pressure, with the US threatening to cut off military and other aid to countries that refused to sign.

In recent years under the Obama administration, relations between the US and the ICC improved, and the US offered help and support to the court. Bolton’s attack is aimed at reversing those gains – with measures aimed directly at the court and its staff.

These include: (i) negotiating ‘even more binding, bilateral agreements to prohibit nations from surrendering US persons to the ICC’; (ii) banning ICC judges and prosecutors from entering the US, sanctioning their funds in the US financial system and prosecuting them in the US criminal courts (and doing the ‘same for any company or state that assists an ICC investigation of Americans’); and (iii) ‘taking note if any countries cooperate with ICC investigations of the United States and its allies, and remember[ing] that cooperation when setting US foreign assistance, military assistance and intelligence sharing levels’.

These are serious threats – they would potentially undermine the work of a court that is designed to prosecute the world’s worst crimes. The ICC prosecutor and its judges would be barred entry from the US to attend to vital work of the court.

Some of that work, ironically, is at the behest of the US. For instance, two of the UN Security Council’s referrals to the ICC, one in relation to atrocities committed in Sudan, the other in respect of the crimes committed by Muammar Gaddafi in Libya, were referred with US support. 

Also, the meetings of the ICC Assembly of States Parties are held each year at UN headquarters in New York. Those meetings may have to be held elsewhere if the ICC judges and staff are under threat of arrest.

In the case of the potential torture linked to operations in Afghanistan, the ICC has not been acting on its own initiative in investigating. For example, the Center for Constitutional Rights submitted ‘victim’s representations’ to the ICC on behalf of two of their clients, Sharqawi Al Hajj and Guled Hassan Duran, emphasizing the importance of an ICC investigation of US officials for serious crimes arising out of post-9/11 detention and interrogations.

According to the center, both Al Hajj and Duran were detained by the CIA in black sites or 'proxy-detention' by other countries, tormented and tortured.

Although the US is not a party to the ICC Statute, Afghanistan is, and therefore the court has jurisdiction over US nationals who allegedly committed atrocities in Afghanistan. And it should be noted that the investigation includes pursuing any atrocities committed by the Taliban and Afghan security forces during the same period.

So the basis for attacking the work of the ICC based on this is shaky, and Bolton’s threats raise a number of important international law questions going forward. 

For one, they may be unlawful retaliatory steps, given that the US has obligations to accord at least some privileges and immunities to judges and other personnel of the ICC under the 1947 UN Headquarters Agreement between the UN and US. Counter-measures might be considered by member states of the ICC, either alone, or collectively. 

In this regard, Bolton’s comments about the EU will not go unnoticed: he suggests Europe is a region where ‘the global governance dogma is strong’. The US may yet come to learn just how strong that ‘dogma’ is.

With US abstention from the ICC, the opening remains for Europe and other regions to position themselves at the heart of the international criminal justice regime, thereby – as in response to the US attitude towards climate change – building a network of partnerships with other like-minded nations to compensate for US disengagement.

Further, while the ICC has many critics, and could be improved as an institution, Bolton’s speech may have the effect of galvanizing support for the world’s first permanent international criminal court. That could be a good thing for the court, which is sorely in need of support for its work.

Whatever concerns states may have about the ICC, they may be outweighed by a mutual desire to stand up to perceived bullying by the Trump administration, in favour of the international rule of law. 

As polar ice melts, the Arctic will become increasingly important for its untapped oil, gas and minerals as they become more accessible, as well for its shipping routes, which will become increasingly cost efficient for cargo as parts of the routes become ice-free for extended periods. 

A number of countries, including Russia and China, are also exploring the possibilities around overflights, commercial fishing, the laying of submarine cables and pipelines, and scientific research.

Earlier this month, China announced the launch of its first domestically built conventionally-powered polar icebreaker, Xuelong 2, or Snow Dragon 2. Like its (foreign-built) predecessor,Snow Dragon, this vessel’s purpose is framed as scientific research into polar ice coverage, environmental conditions, and biological resources. 

It has not gone unnoticed, though, that China’s new icebreakers are also useful in testing the feasibility of moving cargo across the Arctic. China’s plans for a Polar Silk Road, as part of its ambitious multi-billion-dollar Belt and Road Initiative, include developing Arctic shipping routes. China recently invested in Russia’s Yamal liquefied natural gas project in the northern port of Sabetta and signed a framework agreement for Chinese and Russian banks to co-finance up to 70 joint projects in the Arctic region.

But China’s interest in the Arctic extends beyond the purely economic: it is also pressing for a greater role in its governance. Compared to the Antarctic – where governance is heavily institutionalized, governance of the Arctic is much less developed, largely due to their distinctly different natures. 

The Antarctic, which is predominantly landmass, is governed by a treaty with 53 states parties, freezing territorial claims and preserving this region for peaceful scientific purposes. By contrast, the Arctic Council was only established in 1996 and comprises the eight Arctic states that claim sovereignty over the landmass in the Arctic Circle, a region which consists largely of frozen ocean and which hosts indigenous populations. 

The legal framework is a patchwork affair, drawn from various treaties of global application (including the UN Charter and the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea), the Svalbard Treaty(recognizing Norway’s sovereignty over the eponymous Arctic archipelago), as well as customary international law and general principles of law. So far, the Arctic Council has been the forum for the conclusion of only three legally binding agreements.

China sees a gap for new ideas, rules and participants in this space. A white paper released by the government in January contains sophisticated and detailed analysis of the international legal framework applicable to the Arctic and demonstrates China’s increasing knowledge and capability in this area, as reflected in the growing number of Chinese international lawyers specializing in Arctic matters. 

The white paper seeks to justify China’s involvement in Arctic affairs as a ‘near Arctic state’, noting that the Arctic’s climate, environment and ecology are of concern for all states. The white paper uses familiar phrases from China’s vision for its foreign policy – such as the ‘shared future of mankind’ and ‘mutual benefit’ – to argue for a pluralist (i.e. global, regional and bilateral) approach to Arctic governance. 

China is sensitive to the risks of overreaching when it comes to states with territorial claims in the Arctic, especially as resource competition hots up. The white paper positions China as a responsible and peaceful power, whose participation in Arctic affairs is based on ‘respect, cooperation, win-win result and sustainability’.

China was admitted as an observer to the Arctic Council in 2013, along with four other Asian states (including Japan, which is taking an equally keen interest in opportunities for Arctic rule-making) and Italy. As an observer state, China has very limited rights in the council, but has been creatively using other routes to influence Arctic governance, including active engagement within the International Maritime Organization (IMO) and the International Seabed Commission. 

China participated in the formation of the IMO’s Polar Code of January 2017, which sets out rules for ships operating in polar waters. China was also one of ten states involved in the recent adoption of the Agreement to Prevent Unregulated High Seas Fisheries in the Central Arctic Ocean, which took place outside the umbrella of the Arctic Council. 

At a recent roundtable in Beijing co-hosted by Chatham House, Chinese experts noted China’s aspirations to develop the international rule of law in the Arctic through playing an active role in developing new rules in areas currently under (or un-) regulated, for example, through a treaty to strengthen environmental protection in the region. It was also suggested that China may also seek to clarify the meaning of existing rules through its own practice. 

China also has ambitions to contribute to the research of the Arctic Council’s Working Groups, which develop proposals for Arctic Council projects and rules. It remains to be seen to what extent Arctic states, protective of theirown national interests in an increasingly fertile area, will cede space for China to participate.

China’s push to be a rule shaper in the Arctic fits into a wider pattern of China seeking a more influential role in matters of global governance. This trend is particularly apparent in areas where the rules are still emerging and thus where China feels more confident than in areas traditionally dominated by Western powers.

A similar assertiveness by China is increasingly visible in other emerging areas of international law, such as the international legal framework applicable to cyber operations and international dispute settlement mechanisms relating to trade and investment.

China’s approach to Arctic governance offers an interesting litmus test as to how far China intends to deploy international law to assert itself on governance issues with significant global economic, environmental, and security implications – along with the degree to which it will be perceived as acting in the common interest in doing so.

Capacity to contain and respond to biological threats varies considerably across the world. Yet such preparedness is vital for prevention, impact-reduction and resilience in the face of biological events, whether they be natural or deliberate outbreaks.

Chatham House is conducting a series of meetings to strengthen urban preparedness for, and resilience against, biological threats in African countries. This meeting will examine the preparedness and prevention mechanisms in Accra, reviewing the comprehensiveness of city-level preparedness.  

This meeting will focus on the formation and implementation of city-level action plans in the context of preparedness for managing biological threats. It will also explore how local authorities are contributing to this effort with their knowledge and expertise.

Attendance at this event is by invitation only.

In recent years, cybercrime has evolved from a niche technological concern into a prominent global issue with substantial preventative and remedial costs for businesses and governments alike. Despite heavy investment in sophisticated cybersecurity measures and the adoption of several legal, organizational and capacity-building measures, cybercrime remains a major threat which is evolving on a daily basis. Today’s cybercrime is more aggressive, more complex, more organized and – importantly – more unpredictable than ever before.

The challenges posed by cybercrime are experienced acutely by countries undergoing digital transformations: as the level of connectivity rises, so too does the potential for online theft, fraud and abuse. Cybercrime is pervasive but governments can work to limit its impact by creating a resilient overall economy and robust institution, and appropriately equipping law enforcement and the justice system to navigate its novel challenges.

To advance the discourse surrounding these issues, this workshop will assess the current cyber threat landscape and how it is evolving. It will identify the main obstacles encountered by law enforcement, the judiciary and prosecutors in their fight against cybercrime. It will also compare national, regional and global approaches that countries can use to effectively curb cybercrime and tackle its emerging challenges.

The 1967 Outer Space Treaty (OST) is the mainframe for space law. It recognizes the importance of the use and scientific exploration of outer space for the benefit and in the interests of all countries. It also prohibits national sovereignty in space, including of the Moon and other celestial bodies.

The OST prohibits all weapons of mass destruction in space – in orbit or on other planets and moons – and does not allow the establishment of military infrastructure, manoeuvres or the testing of any type of weapon on planets or moons. As the treaty makes clear, outer space is for peaceful purposes only. Except of course, it is not – nor has it ever been so.

The very first satellite, Sputnik, was a military satellite which kicked off the Cold War space race between the US and the USSR. The militaries of many countries followed suit, and space is now used for military communication, signals intelligence, imaging, targeting, arms control verification and so on.

However, in keeping with international aspirations, space is also being used for all kinds of peaceful purposes such as environmental monitoring, broadcast communications, delivering the internet, weather prediction, navigation, scientific exploration and – very importantly – monitoring the ‘space weather’ (including the activity from the Sun).

There are several other international agreements on space, such as on the rescue of astronauts, the registration of satellites and liability for damage caused by space objects. There is also the Moon Treaty, which governs activities on the Moon and other moons, asteroids and planets.[i]

More recently, states at the UN Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space (COPUOS) in Vienna have agreed on guidelines to deal with the worrying situation of space debris which is cluttering up orbits and posing a danger to satellites, the space station and astronauts.

The problem the international community now faces is that the use of space is changing dramatically and rapidly. There are more satellites than ever – well over 1,000 – and more owners of satellites – almost every country uses information generated from space. Increasingly, however, those owners are not countries, militaries or international organizations but the commercial sector. Very soon, the owners will even include individuals.

Small ‘mini-satellites’ or ‘cube-sats’ are poised to be deployed in space. These can act independently or in ‘swarms’, and are so small that they piggy-back on the launching of other satellites and so are very cheap to launch. This is changing the cost–benefit equation of satellite ownership and use. Developing countries are increasingly dependent on space for communications, the internet and information on, for example, weather systems, coastal activities and agriculture. 

Another major development is the advent of asteroid mining. Asteroids contain a wide range of metals and minerals – some asteroids are more promising than others, and some are closer to Earth than others. Several companies have been set up and registered around the world to begin the exploitation of asteroids for precious metals (such as platinum) and compounds (such as rare-earth minerals).

Legally, however, this will be a murky venture. The current international treaty regime prohibits the ownership of a celestial body by a country – space is for all. But does international law prohibit the ownership or exploitation of a celestial body by a private company? The law has yet to be tested, but there are space lawyers who think that companies are exempt. Luxembourg and Australia are two countries that have already begun the registration of interest for space-mining companies.

As humanity becomes more dependent on information that is generated in or transmitted through space, the vulnerability to the manipulation of space data is increasing. The demands on the use of communications frequencies (the issue of spectrum availability and rights), managed by the International Telecommunication Union (ITU),[ii] need to be urgently addressed.

There are now constant cyberattacks in space and on the digital information on which our systems rely. For example, position, navigation and timing information such as from GPS or Galileo is not only vital for getting us safely from A to B, but also for fast-moving financial transactions that require accurate timing signals.

Almost all of our electronic systems depend on those timing signals for synchronization and basic functioning. Cyber hacks, digital spoofing and ‘fake’ information are now a real possibility. There is no rules-based order in place that is fit to deal with these types of attacks.

Cyberweapons are only part of the problem. It is assumed that states, if they haven’t already done so, will be positioning ‘defensive’ space weaponry to protect their satellites. The protection may be intended to be against space debris – nets, grabber bars and harpoons, for example, are all being investigated.

All of these ideas, however, could be used as offensive weapons. Once one satellite operator decides to equip its assets with such devices, many others will follow. The weaponization of space is in the horizon.

There are no international rules or agreements to manage these developments. Attempts in Geneva to address the arms race in space have floundered alongside the inability of the Conference on Disarmament to negotiate any instrument since 1996.

Attempts to develop rules of the road and codes of conduct, or even to begin negotiations to prohibit weapons in space, have failed again and again. There are no agreed rules to govern cyber activity. The Tallinn Manuals[iii] that address how international law is applicable to cyberwarfare also address the laws of armed conflict in space, but data spoofing and cyber hacking in space exist in far murkier legal frameworks.

The current system of international space law – which does not even allow for a regular review and consideration of the OST – is struggling to keep up. Space is the inheritance of humankind, yet the current generation of elders – as they have done with so many other parts of our global environment – have let things go and failed to shepherd in the much-needed system of rules to protect space for future generations.

It is not too late, but it will require international cooperation among the major space players: Russia, the US, China, India and Europe – hardly a promising line-up of collaborators in the current political climate.

Filling the governance gaps

Norms of behaviour and rules of the road need to be established for space before it becomes a 21st-century ‘wild west’ of technology and activity. Issues such as cleaning up space debris, the principle of non-interference, and how close satellites can manoeuvre to each other (proximity rules) need to be agreed as a set of international norms for space behaviour.

A cross-regional group of like-minded countries (for example Algeria, Canada, Chile, France, India, Kazakhstan, Malaysia, Nigeria, Sweden, the UAE and the UK) should link up with UN bodies, including the Office for Outer Space Affairs (UNOOSA), COPUOS and ITU, and key private-sector companies to kick-start a new process for a global code of conduct to establish norms and regulate behaviour in space.

The UN could be the host entity for this new approach – or it could be established in the way the Ottawa process for landmines was established, by a group of like-minded states with collective responsibility for, and collective hosting and funding of, the negotiations.

A new approach should also cover cybersecurity in space. The UN processes on space and cyber should intersect more to find ways to create synergies in their endeavours. And the problems ahead as regards spectrum management – particularly given the large number of small satellites and constellations that are to be launched in the near future – need urgent attention in ITU.

Notes

[i] All of these treaties and other documents can be found at UN Office for Outer Space Affairs (2002), United Nations Treaties and Principles on Outer Space, http://www.unoosa.org/pdf/publications/STSPACE11E.pdf.

[ii] ITU (undated), ‘ITU Radiocommunication Sector’, https://www.itu.int/en/ITU-R/Pages/default.aspx.

[iii] The NATO Cooperative Cyber Defence Centre of Excellence (CCDCOE), ‘Tallinn Manual 2.0’, https://ccdcoe.org/research/tallinn-manual/.

This essay was produced for the 2019 edition of Chatham House Expert Perspectives – our annual survey of risks and opportunities in global affairs – in which our researchers identify areas where the current sets of rules, institutions and mechanisms for peaceful international cooperation are falling short, and present ideas for reform and modernization.

Summary

• All satellites depend on cyber technology including software, hardware and other digital components. Any threat to a satellite’s control system or available bandwidth poses a direct challenge to national critical assets.
• NATO’s missions and operations are conducted in the air, land, cyber and maritime domains. Space-based architecture is fundamental to the provision of data and services in each of these contexts. The critical dependency on space has resulted in new cyber risks that disproportionately affect mission assurance. Investing in mitigation measures and in the resilience of space systems for the military is key to achieving protection in all domains.
• Almost all modern military engagements rely on space-based assets. During the US-led invasion of Iraq in 2003, 68 per cent of US munitions were guided utilizing space-based means (including laser-, infrared- and satellite-guided munitions); up sharply from 10 per cent in 1990–91, during the first Gulf war. In 2001, 60 per cent of the weapons used by the US in Afghanistan were precision-guided munitions, many of which had the capability to use information provided by space-based assets to correct their own positioning to hit a target.
• NATO does not own satellites. It owns and operates a few terrestrial elements, such as satellite communications anchor stations and terminals. It requests access to products and services – such as space weather reports and satellite overflight reports provided via satellite reconnaissance advance notice systems – but does not have direct access to satellites: it is up to individual NATO member states to determine whether they allow access.
• Cyber vulnerabilities undermine confidence in the performance of strategic systems. As a result, rising uncertainty in information and analysis continues to impact the credibility of deterrence and strategic stability. Loss of trust in technology also has implications for determining the source of a malicious attack (attribution), strategic calculus in crisis decision-making and may increase the risk of misperception.

Strategic systems that depend on space-based assets, such as command, control and communication, early warning systems, weapons systems and weapons platforms, are essential for conducting successful NATO operations and missions. Given the increasing dependency on such systems, the alliance and key member states would therefore benefit from an in-depth analysis of possible mitigation and resilience measures.

This workshop is part of the International Security Department’s (ISD) project on space security and the vulnerability of strategic assets to cyberattacks, which includes a recently published report. This project aims to create resilience in NATO and key NATO member states, building the capacity of key policymakers and stakeholders to respond with effective policies and procedures. This workshop will focus on measures to mitigate the cyber vulnerabilities of NATO’s space-dependent strategic assets. Moreover, participants will discuss the type of resilience measures and mechanisms required.

Attendance at this event is by invitation only. 

The new UK government will conduct a review of foreign, security and defence policy in 2020. If the UK decides to use values as a framework for foreign policy this needs to be reflected in its armed forces. One area where this is essential is continuing to deepen inclusivity for LGBTIQ+ personnel, building on the progress made since the ban on their service was lifted in 2000.

I witnessed the ban first-hand as a young officer in the British Army in 1998. As the duty officer I visited soldiers being held in the regimental detention cells to check all was well. One day a corporal, who I knew, was there awaiting discharge from the army having been convicted of being gay. On the one hand, here was service law in action, which was officially protecting the army’s operational effectiveness and an authority not to be questioned at my level. On the other, here was an excellent soldier in a state of turmoil and public humiliation. How extreme this seems now.

On 12 January 2000 Tony Blair’s Labour government announced an immediate lifting of the ban for lesbian, gay and bisexual personnel (LGB) and introduced a new code of conduct for personal relationships. (LGB is the term used by the armed forces to describe those personnel who had been banned prior to 2000.) This followed a landmark ruling in a case taken to the European Court of Human Rights in 1999 by four LGB ex-service personnel – supported by Stonewall – who had been dismissed from service for their sexuality.

Up to that point the Ministry of Defence's long-held position had been that LGB personnel had a negative impact on the morale and cohesion of a unit and damaged operational effectiveness. Service personnel were automatically dismissed if it was discovered they were LGB, even though homosexuality had been decriminalized in the UK by 1967.

Proof that the armed forces had been lagging behind the rest of society was confirmed by the positive response to the change among service personnel, despite a handful of vocal political and military leaders who foresaw negative impacts. The noteworthy service of LGBTIQ+ people in Iraq and Afghanistan only served to debunk any residual myths.

Twenty years on, considerable progress has been made and my memories from 1998 now seem alien. This is a story to celebrate – however in the quest for greater inclusivity there is always room for improvement.

Defence Minister Johnny Mercer last week apologized following recent calls from campaign group Liberty for a fuller apology. In December 2019, the Ministry of Defence announced it was putting in place a scheme to return medals stripped from veterans upon their discharge.

The armed forces today have a range of inclusivity measures to improve workplace culture including assessments of workplace climate and diversity networks supported by champions drawn from senior leadership.

But assessing the actual lived experience for LGBTIQ+ people is challenging due to its subjectivity. This has not been helped by low participation in the 2015 initiative to encourage people to declare confidentially their sexual orientation, designed to facilitate more focused and relevant policies. As of 1 October 2019, only 20.3 per cent of regular service people had declared a sexual orientation.

A measure of positive progress is the annual Stonewall Workplace Equality Index, the definitive benchmarking tool for employers to measure their progress on LGBTIQ+ inclusion in the workplace; 2015 marked the first year in which all three services were placed in the top 100 employers in the UK and in 2019 the Royal Navy, British Army and Royal Air Force were placed 15th=, 51st= and 68th respectively.

Nevertheless, LGBTIQ+ service people and those in other protected groups still face challenges. The 2019 Ministry of Defence review of inappropriate behaviour in the armed forces, the Wigston Report, concluded there is an unacceptable level of sexual harassment, bullying and discrimination. It found that 26-36% of LGBTIQ+ service people have experienced negative comments or conduct at work because of their sexual orientation.

The Secretary of State for Defence accepted the report’s 36 recommendations on culture, incident reporting, training and a more effective complaints system. Pivotal to successful implementation will be a coherent strategy driven by fully engaged leaders.

Society is also expecting ever higher standards, particularly in public bodies. The armed forces emphasise their values and standards, including ‘respect for others’, as defining organisational characteristics; individuals are expected to live by them. Only in a genuinely inclusive environment can an individual thrive and operate confidently within a team.

The armed forces also recognize as a priority the need to connect to and reflect society more closely in order to attract and retain talent from across all of society. The armed forces’ active participation in UK Pride is helping to break down barriers in this area.

In a post-Brexit world, the UK’s values, support for human rights and reputation for fairness are distinctive strengths that can have an impact on the world stage and offer a framework for future policy. The armed forces must continue to push and promote greater inclusivity in support. When operating overseas with less liberal regimes, this will be sensitive and require careful handling; however it will be an overt manifestation of a broader policy and a way to communicate strong and consistent values over time.

The armed forces were damagingly behind the times 20 years ago. But good progress has been made since. Inclusion initiatives must continue to be pushed to bring benefits to the individual and the organization as well as demonstrate a values-based foreign policy.

To understand Lebanon’s financial collapse, look to its politics.

The country has been deeply damaged by an increasingly dysfunctional political system. A series of compromises have alienated it from its main markets in the Gulf and strangled its economy; anyone that has glanced at fluctuations in Lebanese bank deposits over the last 10 years can see the correlation.

Imagine if Boris Johnson or Donald Trump were obliged to form joint governments with Jeremy Corbyn or Bernie Sanders. The result would be paralysis and lack of accountability as each party pulls the country in opposite directions and blames the other for the state of limbo. This has been the state of affairs in Lebanon since the Doha agreement of 2008. 

That agreement followed an 18-month siege that paralyzed Beirut and an attack on the city by Hezbollah’s ‘black shirts’. The Doha formula imposed governments of national unity between Prime Minister Saad Hariri’s pro-Saudi camp and Hezbollah’s pro-Iran camp and their respective internal allies.

The pattern was set: each period of subsequent paralysis was followed by further compromise as the tug of war pulled the country away from its principal economic partners, the Arab Gulf states, with the regional balance of power tilting towards Hezbollah. 

It was not supposed to be like this. The Baabda Declaration in June 2012, reached after a process of national dialogue, was meant to secure Lebanon’s neutrality in regional conflicts, with both sides promising to hold back on external alliances and coexist despite difference over major regional issues like the war in Syria, the standoff between the US and Iran or relations with Israel or the Gulf states.

This has worn away. The Baabda declaration itself became a sham when Hezbollah inserted itself into the war in Syria in support of the Assad regime and overtly got involved in Iraq and Yemen as an Iranian proxy. This was followed by Saudi opposition to concessions by Hariri that led to the election of General Michel Aoun, an ally of Hezbollah, as president in October 2016; again, after a political paralysis that lasted 29 months with no active government and no head of state.  

The Saudis were also furious when President Aoun’s son-in-law, Foreign Minister Gebran Bassil, abstained from condemning the burning of the Saudi embassy in Tehran at an Arab League meeting in Cairo in January 2016, citing the need to preserve national unity.

Fearing that he was simply providing Hezbollah with protection in the guise of compromise, the Saudis pressured Hariri to resign in November 2017 during a trip to Riyadh, but he later challenged that by retracting on his resignation when back in Beirut. Lebanon was caught between two sides, and as the regional conflict intensified from tension to open confrontation, neutrality was no longer an option.

Gulf connections

An estimated 350,000 Lebanese expats live and work in Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Qatar and Kuwait. These countries are also the main clients for Lebanese contractors, consultants and advertising companies, some of which have offices there. The domestic tourism industry relies heavily on Arab Gulf visitors and they are a principal source of foreign investments especially in the real estate sector.

Lebanon also enjoyed a certain degree of political and economic protection from the US and the Gulf, and Hezbollah benefited indirectly from that protection, as it also shielded it to a certain degree from sanctions.

The deterioration of relations meant that the country was cut off by its Gulf partners. This was manifested in travel bans for Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) nationals to Lebanon and a decrease in investments and bank deposits, as well as a decrease in remittances from Lebanese expats, partly because of economic crisis in the Gulf countries themselves.

Saudi Arabia withdrew $4 billion of aid to the Lebanese army and internal security forces, and no aid or deposits were forthcoming as the economic and financial situation deteriorated. 

The costs to the Lebanese economy include the opportunity cost created by the annual threat of war with Israel, after which trips are cancelled and projects postponed. Hezbollah also controls a section of Beirut port where it pays no duty or taxes. Add to that the economic fallout from the war in Syria, such as the impact on exports, the inflow of refugees and the cost of Hezbollah’s involvement.

The burden of these political factors is difficult to estimate but it constitutes the ransom that the Lebanese economy bears as a cost of the compromise. This is not to absolve Lebanese politicians from corruption or bankers of mismanagement but to add that political factors cannot be ignored.

The cumulative cost and economic impact of being cut off from its main economic partner eventually bankrupted the country. The fiscal and financial aspects, with Lebanon’s inability to service its debt, are but a reflection of these political factors. In the long run, the key to avoiding complete collapse is to restore relations with the GCC and free Lebanon from that very costly grip.