The article contains some good background for Post 56937 in the
context of the UK. While the author is obviously biased against the
British security system,it gives some good background on Khalifah
elements in the UK. Also, one of the persons interviewed provided a
valid scenario for the development of anti-terror legislation and its
incorporation into fighting regular crimes.  A scenario that is
exactly valid and parallel to what is happening in the U.S. Example:
Last year anti-terror Patriot Act money laundering law was used as the
basis for the investigation of a bribery case in Las Vegas involving,
not terrorists, but politicians.
Note that the Northern Command, headed by the general (then at NORAD)
who failed to stop any of the four terrorist aircraft on 9/11 and was
then promoted, has been granted extraordinary powers by Bush43
executive order to overcome Constitutional provisions in the event of
a national security emergency.  The general is empowered to decide if
a NSE is occurring.  (Note the emergency security provisions in the UK
that are outlined at the end of the article.)

David Bier

"Tim Newburn, the director of the Mannheim Centre for the study of
criminology at the London School of Economics, wonders how different
the new threats are from those we faced before. 'I do think there is
an issue about the extent to which we assume the world has changed.
I'm not convinced by the arguments that we now face something that we
might regard as super-terrorism with a reach and a power and a
likelihood of inflicting damage that is completely different from the
things we faced before 11 September. Neither do I agree with the even
more dystopian picture of entire nation states now under threat from
the new terrorist activities. One of the reasons I feel sceptical
about those arguments, apart from the lack of evidence, is the
relatively recent history of terrorism. What tends to happen is that
we are presented with the idea that we face a new and terrible threat,
which necessitates the introduction of emergency powers and the
expenditure of vast amounts of money, and then in time we face a
normalisation of those powers.'

This process of normalisation, which concentrates power in the hands
of law enforcement agencies, has several distinct features. First, a
law introduced as a temporary measure is transformed in due course
into a permanent piece of legislation. Second, a symbiotic
relationship develops between the ordinary criminal law and emerging
legislation as elements of one are incorporated into the other - and
the effect is a general tightening up of the statutory criminal law.
Finally, emergency powers are used to deal with ordinary crime.

Unlike Tamimi, Newburn believes that 'the police services themselves
fuel the process. They are a significant player in what we always see
under these kinds of circumstance, which is the emergence of a
campaign for new legislative powers and new resources. However, I
would have to say that they are usually pushing at a fairly open
door."

http://www.lrb.co.uk/v26/n02/upto01_.html

LRB | Vol. 26 No. 2 dated 22 January 2004 | John Upton

In the Streets of Londonistan
John Upton

Perhaps it is the rain. The gaggle of BNP protesters standing behind
the crowd-control barrier on Tottenham High Road are very subdued.
They are almost to a man - they are all men - overweight,
shaven-headed and in their late thirties (think Private Eye's Yobs).
They stand rather meekly, as if trying hard to prove their
reasonableness. One of them, the oldest, holds a soaking piece of
paper in his left hand on which is written a speech, and in his right
a megaphone to berate his audience of passers-by and journalists on
the other side of the road. 'This is a sovereign nation. These people
are committing treason. Why are they not being arrested?' The
megaphone squeals with feedback. A man is talking about them on his
mobile phone; he laughs openly. The small group of policemen posted
outside the industrial estate where al-Muhajiroun are holding a press
conference, laugh too. The rain begins to fall even harder; on the
kebab shops, on the hairdressers, on the BNP. 'Fucking Pakis,' one of
the Yobs says. It is 11 September 2003.

I cross the road and ask a policeman where to go for the press
briefing. He points in the direction of a checkpoint set up by
al-Muhajiroun.

Al-Muhajiroun are holding a conference to commemorate the 19
mujahideen who gave their lives for the cause of jihad. I am frisked
thoroughly, quickly and professionally by a mountain of a man dressed
in a jellaba. He tells me to hurry up the stairs - the briefing may
already have started.

Upstairs is a large room with whitewashed walls and grey carpet tiles.
On one of the walls a banner proclaims that there is no God but God. A
panel of young, bearded men are sitting under the banner, facing a
semi-circular swathe of TV cameras on tripods and photographers
jostling for position. Behind the cameras are two rows of seats, some
are occupied by journalists, others by members of al-Muhajiroun. From
time to time the journalists take calls on their mobiles or ask
whispered questions of the young men next to them who are nodding
sagely at the words of their representatives.

'It is easy for you to forget our history. Our history did not begin
at 11 September. The USA ploughs money into Israel. In 1998 Sudan was
bombed. Atrocities have been committed against Muslims in Chechnya and
Afghanistan. Do you have a minute's silence for them? No. You remember
only non-Muslims.' The spokesman's voice is distorted by the cheap
amplification system. The press do not know what to make of these
outspoken, confident fanatics. They are articulate and intelligent.
Should they be treated as spokesmen for al-Qaida or as the Islamic
equivalent of Monty Python's People's Front of Judea?

We are here for the official opening of a conference - not a
celebration, they are keen to stress - to commemorate the glorious
memory of the 19 men who killed themselves in flying four planes into
the Twin Towers, the Pentagon and the ground.

'The world is now split into two camps. It has become clear that there
can never be peace with the USA.'

'The Jews are a bunch of murderers and criminals.'

The hijackers were 'brave men. They were mujahideen. You might call
them cowards but none of you would be willing to sacrifice your
lives.'

'Jihad is spreading like wildfire. Constantinople has fallen, Rome is
still to come.'

Amid the talk of the Great Satan and the Little Satan it emerges that
the plan is to hold conferences soon afterwards in Leicester,
Manchester and Birmingham.

One of the brothers stands prominently at the back of the hall holding
a mobile phone. It rings very loudly and the speaker breaks off. The
man with the phone walks up and down talking intently in Arabic. Then
he shakes his head. 'Well,' he says, 'so much for the great tradition
of freedom of speech in this country. We have been refused access to
these venues.' There is an amount of eyeball rolling among the press.
'But,' the speaker counters, 'I am pleased to say that there should be
a very special guest coming shortly. You are very lucky.' He is
referring to Omar Bakri Muhammad, the founder of al-Muhajiroun. 'You
must take the message of the mujahideen seriously,' the speaker
continues. 'Do not listen to the liars Bush and Blair who say that
al-Qaida is finished. We are not spokespersons for al-Qaida but we
pray in the same direction.'

I notice, at the back of the hall, two men in suits who are not
journalists, though one of them holds a notebook. They listen
attentively.

An American journalist makes her question heard despite the panel's
efforts not to acknowledge a woman, let alone an American. 'Are your
views born out of anti-semitism?' she asks, and thrusts her microphone
forward.

'Jews are an occupying power. They destroy houses, they spoil crops.
They should be killed.'

The American journalist doesn't give up. 'If I close my eyes,' she
says, 'this could be Combat 18 or the BNP talking.'

'Well don't close your eyes then.' All the brothers laugh and the
press briefing is over. Our special guest, it transpires, has been
detained 'in consultation with his lawyer'. This gets a laugh from the
press. The two men who weren't journalists have disappeared. As the
press swap notes and check details, I get talking to Ahmed, one of the
members of the organisation. Small and bespectacled, he is wearing a
knitted cap, denim jacket and jeans. He suggests that we take a seat
to one side of the hall. He wants to talk about the Ummah, the
worldwide community of believers. Eventually I manage to ask him what
he makes of the pair at the back of the hall.

'Police officers,' he says. Does it worry him that they are under
surveillance? 'I am not paranoid. Whatever happens is in Allah's
hands.'

The two men sitting at the back of that hall are as visible as the
secret war against Islamist terrorism gets. What they are doing is
typical of the hundreds of intelligence-gathering operations taking
place in this country today. This is the reality behind Tony Blair's
evangelical declaration that 'we . . . here in Britain stand shoulder
to shoulder with our American friends in this hour of tragedy, and we,
like them, will not rest until this evil is driven from our world.'

Shoulder to shoulder is not the physical position that springs to mind
when one thinks of the current relation between the United Kingdom and
the US. Even in some government circles our relationship to Uncle Sam
is seen as that of rent boy rather than special friend. Unthinkingly
muscular in intelligence and security matters, the Government fails to
acknowledge any distinction in the source and intensity of potential
threats, and increasingly identifies any disagreement with its
worldview as evidence of the existence of the enemy. This has resulted
in 529 people being arrested under the anti-terror legislation since
11 September 2001, only 81 of whom have gone on to be charged.

A black cloud of Islamist terror is said to be hanging over the
Western world; and specific causes of violence and discontent have
disappeared into it. Instead, we promote the idea that all acts of
political violence involving Arabs or Muslims, if seen from the
correct (that is to say US- inspired) angle, will fit together like a
jigsaw to form an image of Osama bin Laden.

I meet Mr X in a pub in Whitehall. He works for a branch of government
which plays a role in counter-terrorism. He has agreed to speak to me
about the way the authorities see the new threat. 'It's been galling
for us,' he says, 'that the Americans have discovered terrorism, when
of course it's been going on here for years. He sees al-Qaida as 'an
irrational force that must be combated, unlike a typical European
terrorist organisation, the Baader Meinhof, for example, who always
had one eye on their press coverage and popularity ratings'.

If this is a war, as the neocons and Blairite hawks would have us
believe, it is being fought as much in the realm of ideology and words
as in the realm of explosive shoes and ricin laboratories. It is a
propaganda war of shadowy unprovables, in which the absence of an
attack is claimed as a victory by the police and intelligence
services. A war in the course of which the security services will gain
and our civil liberties suffer. A war in which the dilemmas of
counterterrorist policing have begun to express some of the most
sensitive cultural irresolutions in British society.

The police and Government want us to believe that our law enforcement
agencies are as embattled as the Spartans at Thermopylae, but as
members of the Metropolitan Police Special Branch the two men at the
al-Muhajiroun briefing are part of an immensely strong, long
established and well-resourced structure. They have the use of the
most draconian legislation in Europe and a wealth of experience in
counter-insurgency policing. They and the five hundred or so others
like them at work in London represent a formal tradition of secret
political policing which is almost as old as the institution of
organised policing itself in Britain.

Modern political policing began on Saint Patrick's Day 1883, when four
CID men and eight uniformed officers were picked to form the Special
Irish Branch, in response to a Fenian bombing campaign on the
mainland. In 1888, the word 'Irish' was dropped from the title, and
the unit widened its net to include anarchists, left-wing
revolutionaries and Indian nationalist sympathisers. During the First
World War, Special Branch was closely involved in countering German
espionage and formed a relationship with MI5 which remains crucial to
the domestic intelligence network, with Special Branch frequently
acting as the muscle on security service operations, as well as
pursuing subversives in its own right.

In 1919, under the Bolshevik-hating Sir Basil Thomson, Special Branch
adopted the practice of intimidatory attendance at left-wing
gatherings. It comes as no surprise to learn that it was slower off
the mark in monitoring right-wing groups. By the outbreak of World War
Two, however, these to0 had come under its gaze. Before the war's end,
the focus had reverted to the Red threat, and from the 1950s until the
end of the Cold War, the Branch spent a huge proportion of its
resources and surveillance time monitoring such well-known left-wing
subversives as Jack Straw and Peter Mandelson, as well as CND and
Vietnam War protesters.

More important, from a counter-terrorist perspective, it was deeply
involved in the British state's confrontation with modern Irish
Republican terrorism. Until 1992, the Met Special Branch had sole
responsibility for mainland intelligence on Irish terror (the RUC had
its own infamous Special Branch to take care of activity in Northern
Ireland), but as the Cold War came to an end, MI5 lobbied successfully
to take over this function from the police.

By the 1990s, then, Special Branch found itself at a loss. The growth
of Islamism, it seemed, was of no interest, despite the granting of
asylum in the aftermath of the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan to
several Islamist militants, which helped London acquire a reputation
as a safe-haven for extremists and the nickname 'Londonistan'.
Instead, Special Branch lived up to the caricature of the British
security establishment, demonstrating a committed hatred of Micks and
Reds and an inability to take Rag Heads at all seriously. Everything
changed after 11 September; in a remarkably short time, a new
orthodoxy on intelligence and law enforcement would be established for
an apparently new world.

The Centre for the Study of Terrorism is housed in a whitewashed
terraced house in St Andrews, a few doors down from the main
university buildings. Magnus Ranstorp, a Swede, is the Centre's
director. He regularly briefs senior government and security officials
overseas and in the UK - among them, Assistant Commissioner David
Veness, head of Specialist Operations for the Metropolitan Police, the
officer in overall operational charge of countering terror in the
United Kingdom.

Dr Ranstorp is an expert on Hizbollah, and books such as Palestinian
Hamas, Defiant Patriot, The Kidnap Business and the Hostage Rescue
Manual cover three walls of his study. Resting on the mantelpiece
above a gas fire is an enlarged, slightly blurred photograph of a
group of Indian or maybe Sri Lankan soldiers, handguns to the ready,
holding a leopard on a chain. It is a military-macho moment that looks
entirely sinister. A photograph of a group of American soldiers is
propped against a bookshelf. Dressed in riot gear and bunched
together, they are hugging the wall of a mudbrick house ready to kick
in the door. On the small coffee table next to my seat is a draft of
an article entitled: 'Should Hizbollah be next?'

With something of the air of the maître-penseur, Dr Ranstorp
pulls on
a cigarette. 'Surveillance in the UK of Islamists was at best patchy,'
he tells me. 'Pre 9/11, most requests for intelligence came from other
governments who wanted to monitor their own subversives and, like many
governments, the UK doesn't give up its intelligence easily.' France
made specific requests about a number of Algerians in exile in London
and was refused help by UK law enforcement agencies. Ranstorp finds
this especially disturbing, since he believes that France and the UK,
of all European countries, were and are at the highest risk of
terrorist attack. 'This reluctance to assist was combined with a
disproportionate focus on problems relating to Northern Ireland and an
almost absolute failure to recruit individuals to tap into the
Islamists' inner node.'

Dr Ranstorp provides an insight into the view of al-Qaida held by the
police and the security services, and helps to make sense of Special
Branch's decision to arrest hundreds of Muslims around the country.

'Al-Qaida is an organisation of some sort. The way recruitment
generally works is that certain mosques are exploited by "talent
spotters" who pick out potential recruits on the basis of two
criteria: their perceived level of commitment to the Islamist cause
and their skill sets and psychological make-up. To acclimatise the
recruits they use propaganda material from the Algerian and Chechen
struggles and invite veterans of various conflicts to speak about the
necessity of jihad.'

Dr Ranstorp goes on to explain the four-stage process by which
al-Qaida's jihadists are formed. First, a recruit undergoes spiritual
preparation; then he is provided with basic military and survival
skills. Following this, it is his duty to place himself at the
fault-lines between Islam and the West; the armed struggle comes last.

The security service seems to base its strategy on Dr Ranstorp's
analysis. As they see it, allegiance to al-Qaida is tested at a low
but apparently effective level by having a recruit do something as
straightforward as attend early morning prayers for a sustained
period. A series of tests of increasing intensity - storing documents,
providing accommodation, concealing or smuggling weaponry - forge
psychological commitment. With a view of terror so closely bound up
with the practice of Islam, it isn't difficult to see the potential
for misinterpretation. Not only is any Muslim who commits an ordinary
crime inevitably a potential terrorist in the eyes of Special Branch,
but any devout Muslim may also come under suspicion.

The authorities believe that there is an extremely close relationship
between conventional crime and terrorism, which is thought to depend
on identity theft, and credit card and bank fraud. Dr Ranstorp
confirms this: 'The arrest of al-Qaida suspects has led to the
discovery of multiple identities which are extremely difficult to
trace. A massive intelligence operation is involved in which ninety
countries are co-operating.' Dr Ranstorp and Mr X agree: there is a
definite connection between Blunkett's identity-card scheme and
counter-terrorism.

Like the US neocons, Dr Ranstorp emphasises the Manichean nature of
the struggle, a point of view that has many practical advantages, not
least in giving Western law enforcement and military organisations a
larger-than-life enemy at which to tilt. Al-Qaida is now seen as a
strategic innovator of Clausewitzian skill. According to the security
services, it is fighting fourth-generation warfare - i.e. attempting
to destroy the state from within.

I ask Dr Ranstorp about the methods of attack that might be used. 'The
danger is weapons not so much of mass destruction as of mass
disruption,' he replies. In the Government's eyes, the use of chemical
weapons is 'a case of when and not if'. The authorities, it appears,
are not unduly worried about high numbers of casualties in the event
of a suicide attack: what they fear is the 'psychological ripple
effect'. If a plane were to be brought down from outside, say, by a
rocket-propelled grenade fired as the plane is taking off or landing,
Dr Ranstorp believes 'the psychological effects would be immense' and,
he adds, 'an attack of this type may well occur in Europe.' In
contingency planning, therefore, addressing the nation immediately and
effectively through television, radio and the Internet is no less
important than 'the mitigation of physical effects'.

Magnus Ranstorp and others like him are well known beyond the law
enforcement community. I meet Azzam Tamimi at his office in
Cricklewood. Dr Tamimi, a Palestinian, is the director of the
Institute of Islamic Political Thought, the author of several books on
politics and Islam, and a commentator on Middle Eastern and Arabic
affairs. 'Something many Muslims believe,' he tells me, 'is that
politicians always want to make out that there is something going on.'
(And not just Muslims: the former head of the Joint Intelligence
Committee, Sir Rodric Braithwaite, has also spoken of 'overselling'.)
'The threat of terror is extremely exaggerated,' Tamimi continues.
'The police have been trying hard to build bridges with the various
communities in the light of 11 September but the politicians make
their job a lot more difficult. They put pressure on them because they
want something and the police find something else in reality. Take
Jack Straw and Tony Blair. They have been very interested in cracking
down on Palestinian activism in this country. As far as the security
services are concerned, there is nothing wrong with the Palestinians
here. The Charity Commissioners came under enormous pressure to close
down Interpal, a Palestinian charity, but after a full investigation,
it was declared entirely above board.'

I ask Dr Tamimi about the idea of al-Qaida held by the law enforcement
agencies. 'Al-Qaida has become the emblem for something which is so
undefined: who is al-Qaida? And what does al-Qaida consist of? There
is an entire industry there.' He is indignant. 'Such and such an
operation has "the hallmarks of al-Qaida". They talk of operations in
Iraq, for instance. They know nothing about who is doing this, how it
is conducted.'

Dr Tamimi's view - that the US and Israel are manipulating politicians
in this country - is shared by many of the Muslims I speak to. He
differs from most of them in believing that the police are to a large
extent the victims of a confidence trick, rather than being in on the
whole thing from the start. 'Politicians and writers, whether in
academia or the media, contribute to the general state of confusion to
which the police may be victim.'

Dr Tamimi is troubled, too, by the 'sensationalism' that accompanies
anti-terror policing. Details are leaked to the media when individuals
are detained but the same individuals are released without anybody
knowing. His invitation to a Foreign Office conference has been
withdrawn: Tamimi understands that this was because he has broadcast
on al-Jazeera. 'They hate it that the Arabs have a TV station that is
free, where you can express yourself freely.'

After I met Azzam Tamimi, Louise Ellman, the Labour MP for Liverpool
Riverside, made a speech in Parliament accusing him of anti-semitism,
of links with Hamas and of being a supporter of terrorism in general.
I got in touch with Tamimi to ask him what he made of her remarks. He
accepted that he has informal links with Hamas while denying,
predictably enough, the charge of anti-semitism, and saying that the
actions of people such as Ellman are attempts to silence anyone
sympathetic to the Palestinian cause.

We are told that we face a complex, overwhelming threat, yet we are
given the crudest means of deciphering our predicament: caricatures of
Saddam, of bin Laden, of suicide bombers and evil imams. These are the
cartoon ogres in whose shadows we are encouraged to unite. But the
spirit of the Blitz engenders acquiescence in the machinations of a
manipulative state as well as the courage to stand up to ogres.

Tim Newburn, the director of the Mannheim Centre for the study of
criminology at the London School of Economics, wonders how different
the new threats are from those we faced before. 'I do think there is
an issue about the extent to which we assume the world has changed.
I'm not convinced by the arguments that we now face something that we
might regard as super-terrorism with a reach and a power and a
likelihood of inflicting damage that is completely different from the
things we faced before 11 September. Neither do I agree with the even
more dystopian picture of entire nation states now under threat from
the new terrorist activities. One of the reasons I feel sceptical
about those arguments, apart from the lack of evidence, is the
relatively recent history of terrorism. What tends to happen is that
we are presented with the idea that we face a new and terrible threat,
which necessitates the introduction of emergency powers and the
expenditure of vast amounts of money, and then in time we face a
normalisation of those powers.'

This process of normalisation, which concentrates power in the hands
of law enforcement agencies, has several distinct features. First, a
law introduced as a temporary measure is transformed in due course
into a permanent piece of legislation. Second, a symbiotic
relationship develops between the ordinary criminal law and emerging
legislation as elements of one are incorporated into the other - and
the effect is a general tightening up of the statutory criminal law.
Finally, emergency powers are used to deal with ordinary crime.

Unlike Tamimi, Newburn believes that 'the police services themselves
fuel the process. They are a significant player in what we always see
under these kinds of circumstance, which is the emergence of a
campaign for new legislative powers and new resources. However, I
would have to say that they are usually pushing at a fairly open door.
What is worrying is the absence of any effective opposition to these
forms of legislation, even, spectacularly, in the case of New Labour.
There are any number of politicians who before 1997 would have been
among the most vocal critics of emergency legislation had it been
introduced by a Tory Government, but who saw no dangers in the
terrorist legislation introduced post 11 September.'

The passage of the Anti-Terrorism, Crime and Security Act 2001 marks a
new low for repressive legislation. The bill was published on 12
November 2001 and the Act was made law with great haste on 14 December
2001, prompting a number of observers to wonder whether at least some
of its provisions were not simply lifted pre-prepared from the shelf
where they had been waiting for some time.

The notion of anti-terrorism legislation is founded on a distortion of
the criminal law. It makes a distinction between motives - Peter
Sutcliffe, the killer of at least 13 people, is not a terrorist; a
member of the IRA who kills two is - when the motive for a crime
normally should not make any difference to the way it's dealt with. A
murder is no less heinous if committed for sexual gratification than
for political ends. Nevertheless, the state has for a long time sought
to separate politically motivated crimes from ordinary offences,
through the establishment of a body of anti-terror laws.

This Government has added a further dimension to the UK's anti-terror
legislation. Instead of using the criminal law as its basis, it has
arrived at the solution of grafting anti-terrorist provisions onto
immigration law. This means that there is no duty of disclosure, no
legal aid available to the accused - and none of the safeguards
provided by the Police and Criminal Evidence Act apply. The checks to
the power of the state in the form of due process, available in the
criminal justice system, weakened though they might be in the case of
terrorist legislation, do not exist at all under immigration law.

The Immigration Act of 1971 allowed for the deportation of foreign
nationals if they were suspected of endangering national security or
committing serious criminal offences. During the 1980s, judges became
less deferential to the executive thanks to the new process of
Judicial Review which allowed challenges to a Secretary of State's
decisions. This applied to immigration cases as to other areas of
public law. The exceptions were cases which involved issues of
national security. If these dreaded words were cited as a reason for
deportation, the courts invariably deferred to the wishes of the Home
Secretary.

In response to criticism that there was no check on executive power in
the majority of immigration cases, tribunals were set up in the late
1970s and early 1980s. In national security cases, however, an
immigrant could still be deported solely on the basis of a Home
Secretary's certificate. There was no right of appeal: the single
check to the Home Secretary's actions were the deliberations of the
'three wise men', a panel who merely examined the papers in a
particular case without hearing any testimony from witnesses.

Then in 1996 came the Chahal case, a particularly worrying one for
immigrants who had resided in the UK for a long period of time without
having citizenship. Karamjit Singh Chahal was a Sikh separatist
suspected of involvement in a conspiracy to assassinate Rhajiv Gandhi
during an official visit to the UK and threatened with deportation.
His application to remain in this country failed at every stage
because of judicial deference to the will of the executive. Chahal was
detained for about a year as his case worked its way through the
Judicial Review procedures. Eventually, it was heard in the European
Court of Human Rights, where the argument was made on his behalf that
there was a real risk of his suffering inhumane and degrading
treatment were he to return to India. In these circumstances,
deportation by the UK would have been in contravention of Article 3 of
the European Convention on Human Rights. It was also argued that the
British Government was in breach of Article 5 regarding his continued
detention. The Court found in favour of Chahal.

The Special Immigration Appeals Commission Act (1997) was introduced
in response. Initiated under the Tories but enacted under New Labour,
it purported to strike a balance between national security and natural
justice in cases such as Chahal's, and a procedural compromise was
reached which involved the setting up of special commissions that sat
partly in secret and partly in open session. The in camera sessions
were intended as an opportunity for the intelligence services and
Special Branch to put their case. Not only are the subject of the case
and his lawyers not allowed access to the information held about him,
they aren't allowed to test the evidence or match its claims against
his own experience. Instead, 'special advocates' are appointed by the
Attorney General. A special advocate can test the secret evidence to a
limited extent but he cannot cross-examine intelligence officers in
any meaningful way and he has no instructions from a client or any
communication with him. But then the procedure has only one goal:
deportation.

When the system was being designed, it was considered important that
liberal lawyers be included as special advocates. This has led to two
problems. First, the lawyers have been seduced by the glamour of the
intelligence world, and then, more important, because they have been
privy to the closed workings of that world, they are no longer allowed
to act for clients. So, in a double whammy, the best barristers have
cosied up to the establishment and are not available to represent the
individual against the state.

'It is a matter of perennial embarrassment to the Foreign Office that
people from Arab countries can't be booted out,' Shami Chakrabarti,
the director of Liberty, says. 'This is because of Article 3. These
countries - Egypt, Saudi Arabia - lobby the Foreign Office for the
return of their nationals. Instead of protesting about the countries'
human rights records, the Foreign Office has responded with weasel
words because these are countries they are trying to do business with
- often arms business. If these foreign nationals were sent back to
their country they would face torture and death. This conundrum for
the Home Office and Foreign Office came to be known as the Chahal
problem.'

Then came 11 September and the Government's immediate legislative
response. There were scare stories about Britain withdrawing from its
commitments under the Human Rights Act. This didn't happen. Instead,
11 September acted as a convenient catalyst for a different course of
action, and the Government passed the innovative Anti-Terrorism, Crime
and Security Act. The Home Office could finally tackle the Chahal
problem.

Part IV of the new Act allows the Home Secretary to detain
international terrorists indefinitely and without trial. Who qualifies
as an international terrorist is, for the purposes of the Act,
determined by the Home Secretary's suspicions. A person may also be
detained if he is suspected of having 'links' (not defined in the Act)
to a terrorist group. So it is possible to be detained merely for
being suspected of having links with suspicious people.

The subjects of this provision are those foreign nationals, like
Chahal, who cannot be removed from the UK because they face the real
possibility of torture or death in their home countries - the terms of
Article 3 of the European Convention are not negotiable. A state is
allowed to derogate from Article 5, however, the right to freedom from
arbitrary detention, 'in time of war or other public emergency
threatening the life of the nation . . . to the extent required by the
exigencies of the situation'. The Government maintains that, since 11
September, this country has been in such a life-threatening situation,
although it neglects to mention that the UK is the only country in the
European Union that has seen the need to derogate in this manner. The
Government has refused to call this process by its real name:
internment. Its claim - that, unlike those in Guantanamo Bay, the
detainees are perfectly free to leave the country - is a measure of
its cynicism.

Of the Government's derogation from Article 5, Shami Chakrabarti
continues: 'Liberty maintains that it is not a public emergency of the
kind the Convention envisages and is completely counterproductive. The
flaw in the legislation is that it only applies to foreign nationals.
UK nationals cannot be detained under it. What has happened is the
same as has happened at Guantanamo Bay - a "Brit Cit" cannot be
detained but a foreigner can be interned.'

Approximately 16 people have been detained since 14 December 2001, the
date the Act received Royal Assent. Before it had even been published
there were dawn raids by the police and the Immigration Service. The
detainees were immediately taken to Belmarsh high security prison,
where they have been denied certain rights: initially, there was no
mechanism available to contact a solicitor (it wouldn't have done them
much good, there being no publicly available copy of the legislation
at the time of their arrests), and on occasion they have not been
allowed to use the phone or to pray. One internee was so distressed by
the whole process that he chose to return to Algeria, where he will
inevitably suffer torture or worse. The Act is described in government
circles as forming a 'three-walled prison' because it has this one,
awful get-out route.

'Are we going to make the UK safe by locking up 16 people?'
Chakrabarti asks. 'People in certain cultures are brought up - wrongly
or rightly - to believe that Western liberal democratic values are
corrupt and hypocritical. Should we really counter these arguments by
locking them up? There's been lots of fuss about Guantanamo Bay but
what about this, the moral equivalent of Guantanamo? My largest
concern is not the 16 who have been detained: it is the suspension of
the rule of law.'

A cross-party committee of Privy Counsellors has produced a report
which heavily criticises this part of the Act. Bizarrely, the measures
they suggest as alternatives would strengthen the repressive power of
the state. In place of indefinite detention, the report agrees with
the need for a separate body of counter-terrorist legislation - which
would inevitably lead to the creation of specialist terror tribunals
and the development of a second strand of quasi-criminal law, again
without the protections afforded to the ordinary criminal defendant.

The committee has also recommended that the ban on the use of
intercepted communications as evidence in court be lifted, to make it
possible to prosecute more terrorists, and called on the Government to
examine whether there is scope for more intensive surveillance to
prevent and disrupt terrorism. What the Government would gain from
having access to yet more intrusive powers is far from clear - apart
of course from the chance of exercising them over the whole
population, suspected terrorists or not.

The Government's response to the committee's criticism has merely been
to repeat that the internment of foreign nationals is still the best
available solution to our predicament, that we are indeed in a state
of emergency and that Parliament will debate the renewal of the powers
in March. Revealingly, one of the Government's private motives for
wishing to retain the power of detention is that it doesn't want to be
seen by the Americans as going soft on terror by releasing Islamists
back into the community.

Mr X is sanguine about the Privy Counsellors' disapproval. 'You
probably think,' he tells me, 'that this is all a great conspiracy to
imprison all the Government's enemies, but you are wrong. This
Government couldn't be more sensitive about how it is perceived. It is
very conscious that it can't allow terror to change our way of life
too much.' He isn't very convincing. A senior security adviser to the
Government sums up the situation more plausibly: 'These suspects are
disappearing into a black hole with no way of proving their
innocence.'

With this Act, the Civil Contingencies Bill and the Criminal Justice
Bill, the Home Office has, in a very short space of time, produced a
compendium of legislation to keep the whole population well and truly
in order.

The new Civil Contingencies Bill, which would give a government
authority to act in the face of terrorist threat or action, replaces
powers contained in the Emergency Powers Act 1920, the 1948 Civil
Defence Act and the Civil Protection in Peacetime Act 1986. It defines
an emergency as 'an event or situation which threatens serious damage
to human welfare, the environment or the security of the UK or a part
or region'. The state of emergency is to be announced, without initial
reference to Parliament, by the Queen making an Order in Council or by
declaration of a senior minister.

The regulations set down by the Bill contain an awesomely wide range
of activities which it would be in the state's power to control. By
Clause 21, a government may 'provide for or enable' the requisition or
destruction of property (with or without compensation); the
prohibition or requirement of movement to or from a specified place;
the prohibition of assemblies of specified kinds at specified places
or at specified times; the prohibition of travel at specified times;
and last but not least, the prohibition of 'other specified
activities'.

In other words, under these regulations a government can, at a stroke,
isolate whole cities, control media outlets, close down
telecommunications and email and prevent travel. It could ban protest
demonstrations and add at will to the list of activities to be
prohibited. Failure to comply with any of the provisions or with a
direction or order given under the regulations will be a criminal
offence. These powers, which may be used if a government judges there
is sufficient threat not only to the nation as a whole but to a part
of the nation alone, would be a powerful weapon in any totalitarian
state's armoury. Here is the key to the absolute control of the nation
that Blunkett, in his lighter moments, must dream of.

The second part of this article is available here to subscribers to
the LRB.




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