Buddy, can you spare a tank?
Wednesday 28 February 2001
The drooling admiration of British rightwingers for George Bush's missile defence system is matched by their sneering contempt for Vladimir Putin's suggestion that Russia and Europe should cooperate on an alternative scheme. "The Russian plan is fantasy ballistics, having no existence in the real world," a Sunday Telegraph editorial declares. "And besides, does anyone want our defences against rogue states to be left in the hands of the people responsible for the sinking of the Kursk?" Perhaps not. But does anyone - other than the Sunday Telegraph, the Conservative party and Tony Blair - have much faith in the technological and managerial efficiency of our own military-industrial complex?
Why, for instance, did British troops in Kosovo use insecure mobile phones to communicate? Answer: because their Clansman radios, in service since the 1970s, were so antiquated as to be useless. Why didn't they have new radios? Because the army was waiting for its modern battlefield communications system, Bowman, which had been ordered a mere 12 years earlier. Since then, Geoff Hoon has scrapped Bowman and invited new bids, effectively writing off the £330m already invested. A report from the National Audit Office, with mandarinesque understatement, describes the whole chaotic saga as "extremely disappointing".
Not very surprising, however. Last April, more than 50 Lynx helicopters were withdrawn from service because of faulty rotorheads. In July, Britain pulled out of a European anti-tank missile project which was 10 years behind schedule and seemed likely to produce a weapon that would be out of date before it was delivered. (The MoD had already spent £100m on it.) A month later, the RAF grounded 84 Tucano trainer aircraft after discovering "fatigued parts" in the rudder assembly. In October, the Royal Navy's entire fleet of nuclear-powered submarines was taken out of service for "urgent safety checks" following a leak in HMS Tireless's propulsion system. On November 1, several newspapers published photos of the only submarine on duty in British waters the previous day - a 32-year-old German U-boat, hired by the Royal Navy for £6,500 an hour. The Sun's headline writer rose to the challenge: "All Hans on Deck".
Nor should we forget the army's SA80 assault rifle, which went back to the firing ranges for testing last month having undergone no fewer than 82 revamps since 1986. The MoD describes it as "probably the most reliable rifle in the world" but I have yet to meet a soldier who agrees. Despite the vast sums spent on repairs and modifications, it still tends to seize up at awkward moments - as in Sierra Leone last year, when British paratroops who were fired at by the Revolutionary United Front found that their safety catches had jammed. (Another delightful feature of the SA80's design is that spent cartridges are ejected next to the soldier's head, which means that left-handed users have to fire it right-handed.)
Then there's the aptly named Challenger, Britain's accident-prone battle tank, which is finally coming into use two years late and at £55m more than its original estimated cost. And the Eurofighter, three years behind schedule and £1.5bn over budget. And does anyone remember the Nimrod early-warning aircraft, which was aborted after consuming £1bn of taxpayers' money?
Still, no need to worry: at least we can rely on our American allies. The National Missile Defence system (NMD) failed its last two tests. The Thaad missile, designed to intercept medium-range ballistic missiles, missed its target in six consecutive test shots. Lt Gen John Costello, commander of the US Army Space and Missile Defense Command, admitted that "we can do better in reliability and quality control".
The same can be said, fortissimo, of the V-22 Osprey, a hugely expensive helicopter-aeroplane whose record over the past year was summarised by the Washington Post thus: "Two crashes, 23 dead marines, numerous waivers of required tests, and allegations of lying by senior officers." Although an official report found that the Osprey had "dangerous aerodynamic defects" and was "not operationally suitable", the Pentagon pressed ahead with production, preferring to jeopardise the lives of its marines rather than incur the wrath of the contractors and their friends in Congress. In the words of the Post's headline: "Great Idea! Buy First, Then Find Out If It Flies".
I wouldn't want my defence to be in the hands of those responsible for the Kursk. Nor would I entrust it to the knaves and fools responsible for military procurement in Britain and America. The cold war doctrine of mutual assured destruction is being succeeded by an equally grim balance of terror: Mutual Assured Incompetence.
Since Boyce is 57, the golden age of harshness that he evokes must have been the early 50s. Though many of today's parents may wish to heed his advice and start pummelling the ears of annoying children, few will be old enough to remember how it is done.
Fortunately, help is at hand. After years out of print, the Molesworth books were recently reissued. These include a two-page "Table of Grips and Tortures for Masters" with helpful illustrations by Ronald Searle. There is the "blip for numbskulls" (a sideways clout from ear to eyebrow), the "side hair tweak" ("exquisitely painful") and the "headshave with ruler".
At the age of about 11, I was taught by a schoolmaster who practised all these techniques, and had even devised a few extra. I don't know if the grips and tortures did me any lasting harm, but the master probably found them useful training for his subsequent career: national treasurer of the Paedophile Information Exchange.
A sign appeared in one of the lanes near my house last weekend: "Foot and Mouth Disease: Contaminated Area". This is bad news for my pig, Perdita. For me, however, there is a silver lining. As the FT reported on Saturday, "politicians said a general election - expected in May - would have to be postponed if the outbreak reached epidemic proportions".
Labour was elected in May 1997 for a five-year term. No one has asked for a general election this year. No one wants one - except, apparently, the prime minister. Blair claims to have a contract with the British people: why should it take an epidemic - and the possible immolation of poor old Perdita - to force him to serve out his notice?
* The interviews and profiles marking Norman Tebbit's 70th birthday all quote Michael Foot's description of him as a "semi-house-trained polecat". None, however, has seen fit to mention a story which suggests that Foot may have been too kind by half.
During a parliamentary debate in the late 1970s, Tebbit noticed the leftwing Labour MP Tom Litterick, who had recently returned to the house following heart surgery.
"Go away and have another heart attack!" the polecat yelled across the chamber. Litterick did so, fatally, soon afterwards.