FUTURES RESEARCH

9062 - A MEMBER OF THE FAMILY - 1998

What follows is a form of memoir, about a series of experiences I had a few years ago. They were so far removed from the normal workings of my life that I am almost tempted to think they might be fiction, or the wild-ramblings of an over-heated imagination. Yet I am convinced that they did occur. So much so, indeed, that - some years after I first put them down on paper - I have now annotated them with my later musings.

God knows why they chose my university! It probably came down to the fact that some poor cultural attache, put on the spot by his ambassador, was at that moment only able to remember our name out of the hundreds available across the globe. Why I was then chosen is much clearer, though just as much a matter of luck. Striding purposefully down the main corridor, just after he had swept majestically past me, the vice-chancellor spun on his heels to bark 'You're Asia, aren't you?' It was a strange-sounding curse, especially as I had not even realised that he knew of me let alone of my activities. It halted me in mid-stride, and it was a moment or two before I was able to gather my thoughts sufficiently to answer. The context for his challenge slowly dawned on me. I had, indeed, only recently investigated an approach from a Burmese consortium who wanted to represent us in their home country. Like any other academic institution of the time we were desperate for hard cash; from anyone, obtained by whatever means. But even we were not willing to immerse ourselves in the morass of corruption that turned out to lie beneath the surface of this seemingly attractive offer.

For long decades, Burma had been plagued by more con-men than the rest of the world put together; from its President down. I had not been too surprised, therefore, when it rapidly became clear that this approach too was just another scam. My only real disappointment was that the perpetrators had put so little effort into disguising their real purpose; had our academic integrity fallen so low that they no longer bothered to make any pretence of doing anything other than buying us! Call me old-fashioned but, to their surprise, I eventually had them literally thrown out of the building; and I guess it was the scandal of this that the VC remembered.

Perhaps I should ask you to think of me in a better light, as nostalgic rather than old-fashioned. When I first went up to university some decades before, as a still idealistic individual, my great ambition had been to help in the development of the Third World. Half a decade later, as a Bachelor of Science with an MBA, I had succumbed to the more commercial attractions of employment with a major multinational. In any case, by then the United Nations and its agencies had started their long decline into poverty-stricken irrelevance. To be fair, the multinational had thereafter provided me, and my new family, with several decades of very comfortable life.

[It no longer seems strange that, as we come to the end of our working life, we graduate - if that pun can be forgiven - to teaching others to do logically what we have spent most of our lives doing instinctively. Many thousands now do exactly this, and our higher education system would collapse without their efforts. But, at the time I am talking about, it was much more of a rarity; most academics then spent their whole lives locked up in their ivory towers religiously avoiding any hint of taint from the impure outside world.]

It had only been after the children had finally flown the nest, and I had a suitable portfolio of investments to see me through the rest of my life, that I had once again felt that urge to give myself to the world. As it so happened, the world of higher education was the only one desperate enough to accept my selfless gift. Even then - endlessly chasing funding - it didn't seem too different to the world of commerce I thought I had left. So the chance to go to Asia, even if it was only to Burma, had seemed a god-sent opportunity. But it was not one that I chose to rush into regardless. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, they say, but fortunately I had - and had avoided a very nasty bite, if not the scandal!

That is, though, another - albeit brief - story. Returning to the one in hand, I was still frozen in mid-stride as the logic, of what I now realised was some form of question, made its way into my brain. The VC, now standing in front of me, explained what had prompted his outburst. The proposition he then described, albeit coming from one of the poorest of nations, seemed to be much more attractive; and certainly more genuine. Thus it was that, scarcely more than a week later, I was - to the considerable surprise of the university administration - on a plane headed for the remote highlands of that continent. Remote it may have been, but I was booked into the Hilton hotel - does every capital no matter how small or how poor have to have a Hilton? On the other hand, the view from my bedroom window certainly was different. Ill-kept mud huts, with rusting corrugated iron roofs, stretched into the distance and it seemed as if the whole world was thronging the narrow streets.

[There was, and still is, a form of glamour to be found in such mean streets. The life they held, lived very publicly in a way nobody in the West would endure, was so different as to be almost attractive. And then, as now, you could quickly catch a plane back to your comfortable life at home, which seemed so much better in comparison. As is so often the case, however, the reality was richer. The mud walls were very efficient; they cooled the house in the heat of the day and warmed it at night, and if a hole appeared you simply repaired it with a further handful of mud. Dusty the houses were, inevitably given their mud floors, but they were scrupulously clean. And the life lived on the street made sense when the year-round climate was so kindly. It is for these reasons, rather than desperate hardship, that you can find such shantytowns even now scattered around the globe.]

I was determined to investigate this alien environment, but duty called - and, only a few hours after landing, I was already hard at work, interviewing my potential students. In fact, on that first visit I never did get beyond the front door of the hotel! We were so desperate for foreign students, or at least for the funds they brought with them, that I would probably have accepted anyone who could fill out our application form - and even then would have helped them do it! But I needn't have worried; in fact they turned out to be just about the most talented group of students I had ever come across. They may have spent the last decade - before they had overthrown the hated dictator - sleeping in ditches with only their Kalashnikov for company, but they were no fools. And, in any case, I had begun to feel that it was more a case of them interviewing me; which was a slightly uncomfortable feeling.

[With the benefit of hindsight it is very clear that it was I, rather than they, who was being put through an escalating process of selection. It was fortunate, indeed, that they had not told me of this; for I would probably have developed the worst case of stage fright ever - and nothing of what follows in the memoir would have taken place! Even now I do not know if this was frightful naivety on their part or immense sophistication]

I had no idea what they might be looking for, it was after all a genuinely alien society and they could have been looking for classes in black magic for all I knew. So I had no choice but to be my usual irreverent self. Any thought of selling myself, or anything I might offer on behalf to the school, flew out of the window; as did any attempt at flattering them, or promising that our education would solve all their problems. Instead, I found myself forced to simply treat them as equals. This was something I was comfortable with, my eventual seniority in the multinational had afforded me the luxury of treating everyone I came across as my equal, but something I had had not expected to be a factor here. I consoled myself with the thought that, even if I had blown my chances, I had at least seen something of the Third World - if only from my tenth floor window.

In fact it turned out that, against the odds, I had succeeded; for that evening I found myself accompanying the ambassador, who had been dragged out of a party at the American embassy, to dinner with the minister of defence and his generals. This was such a strange, and rapid, escalation of events that I could barely cope. One minute I had been a humble university lecturer, the next I was a quasi-diplomat involved in negotiating international treaties. For the minister was one of the triumvirate at the head of the military junta which ran the country; and, as such, one of the most powerful men in the world. The juxtaposition was so strange that the very air seemed electrified. It was the one time in my life when I felt that events, beyond my control, were changing my future minute by minute. For decades I had steadily progressed, small step by small step. That night I was suddenly catapulted into another dimension. In fact, even then I didn't fully realise how far I had come.

[The events of that evening were so alien to the rest of my life that I now feel I must give more in the way of details. The dinner itself was held in a private suite. The ambassador and I were there first; waiting on the steps outside for the minister to arrive. I suspect the ambassador was almost as non-plused as I was, he had been waiting for more than three months for an appointment with the minister; and now he was here, receiving one - courtesy of a nobody! I had never even met an ambassador before, let alone shared a function with one! Suddenly, with all the drama you expect to see in Hollywood films, out of the darkness roared a convoy; the minister's armoured limousine sandwiched between two 'technicals', pick-ups mounting savage-looking heavy machine guns. It was impressive, even before all the security men dismounted and with great show 'made the area safe'. It was, after all, but a few weeks after the end of the civil war; and old habits died hard, even if they were no longer strictly necessary.

As for the dinner itself, I can remember the light-hearted banter with the ambassador who - being a gun collector - wanted a good sample of a Kalashnikov for his collection. I remember he was very insistent that it must have a solid walnut stock! Then there was negotiation about the terms of diplomatic recognition for the new government; something which, at that stage, went way over my head, especially as it was late on and I was suffering from more than my fair share of the local brew.

Through all of this, though, there was something like a veil between the actual events and me. I felt as if I was watching a very realistic play; but I was not part of it. Sure enough, I joked, and took part in the conversations. And I must have put on a good performance, since I passed this part of my test (which I now realise it was) and the next day entered the final phase. But it didn't really feel like me taking part.]

To cut some very long stories short, over the next few months I found myself becoming the de-facto go-between for the Western ambassadors with this junta. Again it was pure luck, not judgement. The new government was totally immersed in its new responsibilities. It is one thing to win some of the most important battles of the decade, as they apparently done with ease, but it was another to rescue one of the poorest countries on the continent; one which had, until a few months ago, been fighting a debilitating civil war. They were, moreover, an essentially secular government ruling what was still a fundamentalist republic; a republic that was eternally arguing about which of the many splinters of the religion it should follow. But I was oblivious to most of this intrigue. I had arrived to simply teach them, all three leaders of the junta as it turned out, Western economics; and, built into these, Western business ethics. They thought that these, rather than the local religious values, would bring their citizens into the twenty-first century. Their all-encompassing focus on the task in hand, that of modernising their country, resulted in two key outcomes for myself. The first was that so closely focused on this task were they, that they totally shut themselves away from the outside world: mere ambassadors were routinely fobbed off with lesser officials. The second was that I personally saw more and more of them, more even than their own council of ministers, as they tried to learn ever more about Western business methods.

In this way, again by lucky default and to the amazement of the diplomatic community, I became a sort of honorary ambassador. But, still way out of my depth, I was a very unusual diplomat. Not knowing what else to do, I continued to be stridently honest, speaking my mind regardless of the political niceties. I repeat, I had no choice; but to my surprise, and to the even greater surprise of the ambassadors, it worked. Both sides grew to trust me - as it turned out, a very unusual, and remarkably powerful, position for any go-between! This was fortunate, when I became involved in negotiations with the World Bank. It was a critical factor when the civil war resumed.

[At the time, and for some time afterwards, I only saw my relationship as that between teacher and student. Perhaps that was fortunate, since lately I have prompted by my delayed discussions with others - come to realise that there was a good chance that they thought I was working for the security services. In retrospect, I think one story by the ambassador at that first dinner may not have helped. When he was gently chided for the poor intelligence he had previously received - he admitted he was as surprised as everyone else when they finally emerged from the bush to take over the country. But, he explained, he had asked for some spies to be sent in - 'you know a couple of businessmen or lecturers' - and had been refused this due to budget cuts! At the time I thought this was a funny anecdote. Later, I wondered if they thought that I was another such a 'lecturer'. This was probably compounded by the unusual haste with which my own government had been able to make the budget - of several million dollars - available. Such 'slush funds' were usually only available on such a scale to the security services. Above all, there was my close affinity with the diplomatic community. Did that community think I was a double agent, and did the government who I was dealing with also think that?

In fact I was never formally part of the security services; and I am not certain that I was even informally working with them. I made no secret of the fact that I reported all my contacts to the embassy - and even requested that the ministers told me nothing they might want to keep secret. Perhaps I really was tied into the intelligence networks; after all they too reported to the FCO. Anyway, I received the fourth positive vetting of my life; this time being personally interviewed by a senior ambassador. Even my contacts with the embassy were conducted, in the ambassador's absence, with the 'head of mission'. At the time I naively thought he was second in command overall, but I later was told he was the head of the intelligence services there!]

As I have said, the government itself was essentially secular. Indeed, it was happy to preside over a form of coalition in which all shades of religious opinion were represented. Even so, the majority of its members belonged to the Sufi faction - since it was they who had borne the brunt of the ten years war; most of the deputies even now waving their order papers had not long before been carrying Kalashnikovs. In contrast, the other wing, the Sunnis, had spent the war in comfortable exile in New York! I had already sensed some resentment amongst the inner circle of government that - in their eyes - these 'upstarts' not exactly earned their place at the top table. But I watched them metaphorically grit their teeth and accept the fact as a necessity for the peaceful future of the nation. The Sunnis, though, believed that not merely did they have god on their side but, thanks to their sojourn in the United States, they also had Washington in their court; and the White House had more clout than god! The result was, in effect, a very heavy-handed demand to be given the administration as an outright gift. Needless to say, this was not well received by the de-facto administration - but, gritting their teeth once more, they politely declined the offer! I was surprised that the Sunnis had made such an inept attempt at a political coup. I was amazed when, rebuffed as they saw it, they stormed out of the coalition, sacrificing what political capital they had. They still had one bargaining counter; something like 40,000 troops in camps around the country. It was a force they had hastily assembled, not least from amongst the unemployed members of the defeated dictator's army. It was, even so, a potent threat; a bargaining counter they could still bring into play.

What neither the ambassadors, nor I had expected was that their 'ploy' would simply be to send this army out into the bush and restart the civil war! This was the ultimate political suicide; after ten years of war all the population wanted was peace. It was also going to be a military disaster. The government still had 60,000 troops in the field; and these were the best-trained in Asia.

[I don't know why, but I never really felt genuinely threatened at any time there. I was well protected by my personal cohort of troops - though perhaps I should have wondered why I needed protection. In any case, I never left the guarded compound. Yet I now guess that I always felt an undertow of hidden insecurity. I constantly suffered symptoms of mild stress; and I knew the route to the well-guarded embassy compound like the back of my hand, just in case anything did happen. Spies are supposed to live on their nerves, and perhaps - without realising it - I too was suffering from this malaise.]

I was not party to the ambassador's deliberations, my informal go-between role offered no such privileges. But I was soon called to my ambassador's office in the chancery. I found the subsequent conversation very hard going, indeed almost impossible to follow. I had to keep asking him to repeat his statements. This was not because the overt message was confusing. It was very simple. 'The ambassadors could not intervene in what was clearly a domestic problem'. My problem was with the covert sub-text. After considerable difficulty I interpreted this, I think correctly, as the contrary message! The ambassadors would covertly support the government taking the necessary military actions to end this resumed civil war. On the other hand, they wanted these actions to be handled sensitively; the ambassador especially stressed they could not allow video material of any 'helicopter gun-ships in action' appearing outside of the country. Indeed, more generally, their prime concern was that there should be no media headlines appearing in their own countries. At the time I was so busy trying to get the sub-text right that I had no time for sophisticated analysis; but, later, I came to understand that the ambassadors had, collectively, chosen not to inform their own governments. In a brave move to support the local government, which despite their lack of direct contact they had come to respect, they were supporting actions which their own governments would almost certainly have condemned. Even so, in retrospect I realise that they were really not being that brave. The reason for the difficulty in my reading the sub-text was that I would be swiftly disowned if anything at all went wrong; a rather worrying prospect, where the detachment of armed soldiers who were provided for my personal protection could just as easily be given different orders!

[Whether they saw me as a spy or not, I am sure the ministers saw me as a true friend; even as part of their 'family'. Where the leaders had lived intimately with each other, in trenches for the best part of a decade, it is not too fanciful to suggest that they treated each other, and eventually me, as part of an extended family rather than just as friends. Even so, there is a limit to such friendship; which, again by luck rather than my poor judgement, I never reached.]

I was, though, by now a fervent supporter of the government; so I dutifully conveyed my interpretation of the sub-text to the minister of defence - though I did not communicate my worries, and indeed almost implied that it represented overt support! Nothing more was then heard for three weeks or so, exactly as my briefing demanded. The only hint that any action was taking place was that several of the generals, who were among my students, discretely removed themselves; I presumed to lead their troops in the war which by now was raging in the bush. It was already a dramatic demonstration of the government's power. There must have been more than 100,000 troops in action somewhere out there - enough to have brought the whole of the international press corp. into town had it happened in any other country - yet nothing was heard. I reasoned that the ambassadors should be pleased on that count at least, but I hoped that the war would soon be over with as few dead as possible. At the end of that phoney silence I was suddenly called into the minister's office, to be told that the war was officially over. Despite so many troops deployed, on both sides, he had followed my brief. Indeed, he was proud that he had bettered it. Not only had he deployed no air-power, certainly no helicopter gun-ships, but he had not even used armoured vehicles or heavy artillery. Indeed, he proudly stated "Our troops had nothing more than their trusty Kalashnikovs". Then, with a broad smile spreading across his face, he added "We have fought in the bush for ten years. They have had ten days experience. Guess who won!"

[I now shudder at the personal risks that I must have been taking. What if the other side had won, though that was surely a small risk? What if they had targeted me? I had my own palace car, complete with chauffeur, but it was not one of the armoured ones. What if it had gone wrong and the ambassadors had disowned me?]

In fact, as I later found out, the reality was more complex. The government, ever pragmatic, had aided the process by offering to recognise the pension rights of the soldiers previously employed by the overthrown dictator. These troops, who accounted for a significant part of the dissident army, accordingly soon emerged from the bush to claim their rights. Most of the rest were, in the event, captured not by government troops but by the local farmers; understandably irate that their hard-won peace had so soon been disturbed!

I was in my element, achieving everything I had dreamed of as a student; indeed, achieving far, far more. That happy state continued for more than year. I helped bring in all the democratic processes the ambassadors demanded, and really never expected to get, and I saw the junta become a respected, democratically elected, one; proudly bearing the, justly-earned, title of the social democratic party. But all good things come to an end. The government, revelling in its newfound international popularity, established formal links with the embassies; and my own good offices fell out of use. I found that I was reverting to the lowly status of university lecturer with which I started the adventure. As you might have expected, this produced severe 'withdrawal symptoms'; power is a potent drug. I resolved the situation by discretely passing the project over to my colleagues in the faculty; who were only too pleased to teach at presidential level. What compounded my personal problems, however, was that all of this informal work had been top secret. Even discussion with my colleagues was denied me until years later. So the catharsis of reliving the events with my friends was missing. But I survived, and once more came to terms with my powerlessness.

[The last I saw of my best friend, the minister of defence, was on a walk through Soho one glorious balmy September evening. My colleagues and I had found out he was visiting the country; and had taken him to dinner. Even that walk was something of a revelation. To us it was just a pleasant stroll, watching the nightlife all around. We were astounded then when he remarked that he would remember the evening for the rest of his life. The reason was, to us, even more shocking "This is the first time in more than a decade that I have walked the streets of any city without armed guards." He, it turned out, was as much a prisoner of his position as any of us had been!]

Perhaps the delay was a good thing. When I did eventually talk about my experiences I got an unexpected shock. Where I had prided myself on the many thousands of lives my intervention had saved - by dramatically shortening the period of the conflict. But, even as I expected to bask in the glory of their admiration for my exploits, not a few of those I talked to typically commented "How did you come to terms with ordering the deaths of hundreds of people." It was a fair question, but one which I had never asked myself. I was so busy trying to save lives, and indeed the peaceful future of the whole country, that I had never even considered the inevitable deaths of the soldiers - and even some civilians - involved. In retrospect, I am grateful that, for whatever reason, at that time I never had to face up to the moral implications. Had I done so I suspect I would have entered the ethical quagmire which has so often bogged down the best-intentioned international efforts to save lives in such 'local' difficulties. My naivety, if you like - my ignorance, probably saved tens of thousands of lives. Anyway, that's my story.

[Looking back, its now ten years since I last saw my friends in that government, I am proud of what I achieved. What they have since achieved offers a symbol of hope for other nations, with a genuine democracy, which is now the richest in the region. But it still seems a dream. As I reminisce, I see the action taking place around me; but always from someone else's perspective. It is as if I never took part. Maybe I didn't. But if I didn't, who did?]

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