Impaired Vision: Judging from the invaluable testimony obtained from two Taliban commanders by Jon Stephenson, video evidence may exist of a US gunship firing at fleeing insurgents, as well as the Tirgiran villagers fleeing with them. Such a sequence would lend credence to the accounts of both the NZDF and the claims of the book Hit and Run. We may not get to see the video, but it is reasonable to anticipate such evidence playing a major role in shaping the official inquiry's final judgement of the tragedy that was Operation Burnham.
THIS MORNING [20/6/19] the Operation Burnham Inquiry (OBI) faced an
oncoming avalanche of criticism which seemed certain to bury its final report
in public disfavour. From the very beginning, the conduct of the Inquiry has
been called into question, and the Inquiry heads, Sir Terrance Arnold and Sir
Geoffrey Palmer, dismissed as the Crown’s diligent defenders.
In both journalistic and satirical mode, I, too, have joined
in this blackguarding of the OBI. Like so many others on the Left, I was
convinced that its secrecy-shrouded deliberations could not possibly be trusted
to deliver a truthful rendering of Operation Burnham and its consequences.
That changed this morning, when one of the authors of Hit
& Run, Jon Stephenson, in an article for Stuff, and again on RNZ’s Morning
Report, informed New Zealand that he and his co-author, Nicky Hager, had
erred in declaring that no Taliban insurgents were present in Naik, the village
attacked by New Zealand SAS troopers, supported by US helicopter gunships,
during Operation Burnham.
Two years of painstaking and highly dangerous research on
the ground in Afghanistan had led Stephenson to at least two Taliban insurgents
who had been taking refuge in one of the mountain villages targeted by the
NZSAS. These fighters freely admitted that they had, as the NZ Defence Force
always insisted, participated in the attack that killed the New Zealand
infantry officer, Lieutenant Tim O’Connell, three weeks earlier.
This new information has the potential to dramatically shift
the public’s perceptions of Operation Burnham. In essence, it admits into what
has been a highly polarised public debate concerning the events of the night of
21-22 October 2010, a measure of the confusion and uncertainty that inevitably
accompany all such military operations.
Those who insist that the raid killed 6 civilians and
injured 15 more will not be moved; nor will those who are adamant that the NZDF
killed 9 Taliban insurgents. But, for the vast majority of New Zealanders, who
fall somewhere between these two extremes, Stephenson’s correction of his own,
and Hager’s, original story will transform the whole event into something much
more opaque. As of this morning, the black and white certainty of Hager, and
the villagers’ lawyer, Deborah Manning, will be overwhelmed by fifty different
shades of sceptical grey.
Stephenson’s refusal to condemn the OBI, its chiefs, Arnold
and Palmer, or the investigative work its staff have undertaken, will also give
a great many hitherto critical observers, like myself, serious pause. If a
journalist of Stephenson’s standing feels comfortable in talking about the
“mana” of the Inquiry, then perhaps there is hope that it will not present New
Zealanders with the highly redacted “whitewash” its critics have consistently
predicted.
Certainly, Stephenson’s latest revelations offer the OBI the
opportunity to take up a position midway between the claims of the NZDF, and
the account of the operation represented on the pages of Hit & Run.
Clearly, the intelligence supplied to the International Security Assistance
Force (ISAF) in which the killers of Lieutenant O’Connell were said to be
hiding in the Tirgiran Valley, was correct. It is also clear, from the
testimony gathered by Stephenson, that these fighters were being sheltered in
the village of Naik. On the other hand, it is equally clear that ISAF’s
American helicopter gunships, in attempting to kill the Taliban insurgents,
inadvertently killed and injured a number of Afghan civilians.
In answering the obvious question: Why didn’t the NZDF admit
that these civilian deaths had occurred?; it seems highly probable that Arnold
and Palmer will be obliged to deliver a judgement highly critical of the NZDF’s
conduct subsequent to the Operation Burnham raid.
Even more uncomfortably, if the NZDF’s obfuscation turns out
to have been inspired by American sensitivities regarding the part played by
their helicopter gunship/s (and its/their supposedly defective gunsight/s) in
killing Tirgiran villagers, then the painfully restored relationship between
New Zealand and its “very, very, good” American friends will come under strain.
If any sections of the OBI report end up being heavily redacted, it will be
those relating to the interactions between the NZ forces on the ground in the
Tirgiran Valley, and the US forces hovering above it.
Included in that redaction will, almost certainly, be the US
helicopter’s on-board video recording of the action. Judging from the
invaluable testimony obtained from the Taliban insurgents by Stephenson, that
video may well include a sequence showing the gunship’s pursuit of the fleeing
fighters, along with the gunning-down of the Tirgiran villagers fleeing with
them. That sequence, by proving both sides correct, is crucial. We may not get
to see it, but it is reasonable to anticipate that the withheld video will play a
major part in shaping Arnold’s and Palmer’s final judgement of the tragedy that was
Operation Burnham.
What they will have observed in the video is know as “the
fog of war”: a phenomenon as old as human conflict itself. Its depiction of the
confusion and lack of information that almost immediately overwhelms any
military operation will communicate all that anyone can, or should, know about
the NZDF’s honourable, but botched, attempt to avenge a fallen comrade; and the
unintended civilian deaths and injuries for which some unknown NZSAS trooper/s,
and airborne American machine-gunner/s, are responsible.
This essay was originally posted on The Daily Blog
of Friday, 21 June 2019.



