In warfare, every strategic, operational or tactical failure is a chance for commanders to review their approach and position their forces on the front foot in future battles. The philosophy behind long drawn-out wars is that new methods and tactics will consistently be deployed because the enemy tactics evolve rapidly.
Globally, among the most spectacular failures in recent times was the battle code-named Operation Gothic Serpent, a 1993 attempt by US Army Rangers to capture Somali warlord Mohamed Farah Aideed, in Mogadishu. It is more famous as the Battle of Mogadishu, or by its screen adaptation, Black Hawk Down.
In it, Somali militias using rocket-propelled grenades shot down three US Black Hawk helicopters, leading to a night-long battle both for the survival of trapped American forces and attempts to rescue survivors of the chopper crashes deep in enemy territory.
When the guns fell silent, 18 American Rangers were dead, many of their bodies were dragged by militias through the streets – all reported and some shown by American broadcasters. It was gut-wrenching, to say the least. But on the basis of such horrific outcomes, war commanders drew the ‘never again’ line.
The evolving Somalia situation, and its attendant lawlessness, which could be traced back to the overthrow of Somali strongman Mohamed Siad Barre in 1991, is what led the Kenya Defence Forces to enter Somalia, beginning in 2011.
After several terror attacks and kidnappings on Kenyan soil, attributed to the terrorist al Shabaab group, military and civilian leaders in Kenya decided to ‘strike the head of the snake’ by going for the terror group in its homeland. At the same time, they set up a temporary base in Southern Somalia to provide a buffer between the Kenyan border and the terrorists’ heartland. The operation was aptly named Operation Linda Nchi.
Periodic reviews of the war over the last 12 or so years, which in the absence of public participation amounted to monologues by Kenyan military and civilian leaders, have painted a rosy picture of success on the battlefront, albeit at huge human cost.
Continued attacks by al Shabaab on Kenyan soil bring to question the wisdom of stationing thousands of troops in Somalia hunting for the head of the terror group, while the supposed tail wreaks havoc within our borders. This year alone, there have been attacks in Wajir, Mandera and Garissa counties, even before you delve into the perennial problem of Lamu.
On Monday, September 18, this year, a KDF Huey helicopter, reportedly on night patrol over the Boni Forest in Lamu county, crashed, killing all soldiers on board. Predictably, the KDF was cagey about the number of casualties and circumstances of the incident.
I quietly hoped the chopper wasn’t shot down by militias dwelling in the forest, because that would indicate the terrorists’ enhanced capabilities and pose a grave danger to civilian aircraft, too. Even worse, it would indicate the terrorist group is getting more entrenched and ‘comfortable’ within our borders, despite the long years and abundant resources deployed in trying to weed them out.
As these horrific incidents were happening, the African Union Transition Mission in Somalia (ATMIS) was proceeding with a planned troop drawdown by handing over several Forward Operating Bases in Somalia to the Somali National Army.
They took this action although Somalia has in recent days requested the UN Security Council to delay the drawdown after acknowledging its lack of capacity to cover the security gaps left by the drawdown.
The ‘technical challenges’ cited by the Somali government in seeking a mandate extension for the ATMIS troops are simply a euphemism for ‘unable to secure the land if ATMIS leaves’. In other words, as with Kabul in 2021 after the Taliban returned as US troops left Afghanistan, the danger of al Shabaab overrunning Mogadishu and Somalia as soon as foreign troops leave the country will raise the old question, “What was it all for?” The head of the snake, as it turns out, isn’t that easy to sever, after all.
I am in the small group of Kenyans who believe that after 12 years of this adventure, an inward-looking strategy to bring back the troops and secure our borders makes more sense than continued presence in Somalia without commensurate weakening of al Shabaab to match it.
But before that, we ought to have a national conversation on how Kenya’s war strategy has evolved since the launch of Operation Linda Nchi. More importantly, are the troops really equipped well enough with the weaponry, intelligence and operational capabilities to defeat this mutating foe once and for all?
From reports of attacks on Kenyan forces within the country, it seems the terror group’s modus operandi is to lay improvised explosive devices on the roads used by soldiers. In the Lamu cases, many soldiers killed belonged to the Special Forces.
In any military, the Special Forces are a tiny number of highly skilled operators, often working behind enemy lines, seeking to cause maximum damage to the enemy at the smallest possible cost of human capital. Given their small numbers and the massive resources used in training them, losing 10 Special Forces personnel in one attack is too many. Even more, attacks targeting a military’s elite have a negative impact on the morale of regular troops.
The constant menace of IEDs, unchallenged attacks on civilians and the attempt to decimate the Special Forces, in Lamu, are a combined assault on Kenya’s territorial integrity, while exposing the vulnerability in terms of intelligence and operational failures.
In war, an enemy shouldn’t be able to deploy the same method over and over again, while catching the adversary flatfooted each time. The KDF may still see itself as a closed society whose operations are insulated from public scrutiny, but the country deserves to know whether progress is being made in the war against terror or not.
We must hammer the message into the minds of the military leadership that hiding the number of casualties from these attacks denies the civilian population the right to mourn and honour the fallen soldiers properly, the way the Americans do, for example. Soldiers are members of our families.
It doesn’t help that politicians, especially from the ruling coalition, like to fashion Lamu terrorist attacks targeting civilians as tribally fuelled conflicts. Just last week, when the Senate adjourned to discuss the emerging security situation in Lamu county, Nyeri Senator Wahome Wamatinga said attacks in Lamu were aimed at displacing one ethnic community, and mentioned an unnamed former governor as being part of the conspiracy.
Ideally, elected civilian leaders ought to help provide oversight of military operations and spending to fulfil the principle of military compliance to civilian authority. It would be difficult for legislators to perform this role while also making outrageous statements about the security situation. One hopes that even as the state seeks ways to overcome terror and defeat groups trying to limit our liberties, leaders will understand the heavy obligation of helping secure the stability of the nation.
Overall, this responsibility extends not just to oversight but also should include an assurance to the population that all relevant security bodies are competent enough and well facilitated in the perennial war of freedom from external threats.