/ 3 March 2004

SA’s ‘security experts’ defy the law

Francois Strydom learnt about killing in Koevoet, South Africa’s apartheid-era paramilitary police unit, notorious for violence, torture and murder.

In Iraq, Strydom found his skills were in demand.

Employed by United States-based firm SAS International, Strydom was one of a number of South Africans in Iraq working as private ”security experts” before a January 28 bomb outside the Shaheen hotel prematurely terminated his contract.

The aftermath of the blast sent shockwaves through South Africa’s media, as Strydom’s death revealed an embarrassing situation. The national media estimated 1 500 former soldiers and police officers were operating in Iraq, in defiance of stringent legislation forbidding the practice.

It emerged that the men, many trained in bush combat, make up — along with US and British personnel — the largest contingent of commercial ”military service providers” on the ground in Iraq.

Most are said to be members of former elite units, disbanded following the end of apartheid, their members suddenly finding themselves unemployed, their skills no longer required in the new South Africa.

The US-led conflict in Iraq, however, has given a boost to the jobs market.

Many such men don’t regard the training of Iraqi police as ”mercenary” work per se. Officials in South Africa beg to differ, as such activity is clearly outlawed by the 1998 Regulation of Foreign Military Assistance Act.

”Any form of service in an area of conflict such as Iraq is illegal unless authorised by the national conventional arms control committee,” said South African Minister of Education Kader Asmal, who chairs the committee, which is responsible for granting exemptions to the rule.

”This is to deal with mercenary and other ‘civilian’ services such as bodyguard activities, training of policemen or the supply of material,” Asmal added, in a letter to The Star newspaper.

A recent statement from the office of Minister of Defence Mosiuoa Lekota also warned South Africans against offering ”private security” services of any kind in Iraq without the express authorisation of the minister.

Serving South African defence forces troops and police officers have also reportedly been warned against taking ”career breaks” in order to conduct remunerative work in Iraq, under threat of penalties.

Strydom’s death and the ensuing furore has shone a spotlight on to an industry that nowadays quietly prospers below the radar of the general public. The business of the industry is war, or as they might prefer to put it, ”military security”.

Even to speak of such firms as ”mercenary companies” is to court harsh criticism from industry figures, who try to distance themselves from the image of the typical soldier-of-fortune rampaging through an African war zone — an image they say is outdated.

In some ways, the gun-for-hire industry has become respected.

Regulated. Presentable, almost. Security firms advertise their wares on the internet, their services couched in sterile marketing-speak that belies the nature of their business.

Despite this 21st-century sheen, aid organisations still strongly oppose the employment of private ”security experts” in unstable regions of the world.

”What the South African authorities are up against is not merely a few military adventurers,” claimed South African journalist and defence expert Michael Schmidt in the newspaper ThisDay, ”but the 21st-century equivalent of the troops employed by the Dutch East India Company: private armies of very wealthy companies with global reach”.

Insiders estimate the global turnover from the secretive sector to reach into the hundreds of billions. The self-proclaimed ”guardians of the peace” are organised into clear and well-defined structures, using subsidiary firms to advertise and subcontract a range ofservices covering security, consultation and analysis.

The firms and their employees train foreign troops as ”security experts”, assume logistic roles and protect anything from pipelines to politicians. They even sit sometimes themselves in the cockpits of military helicopters.

Carl Alberts found himself in hot water with Cape authorities recently for doing just that. The military helicopter pilot was stung with a R20 000 fine for hiring himself out to parties in the Côte d’Ivoire civil war.

The sum is nonetheless small change for Alberts, whose skills would have netted him an estimated monthly salary of up to $10 000 in West Africa, according to experts.

Likewise untroubled would be French-born South African Richard Rouget, who last year became the first person convicted of mercenary activities under the 1998 legislation.

The former warrant officer in the French army admitted recruiting fighters for the Côte d’Ivoire conflict and was sentenced to either five years in prison or a R10 000 penalty.

Rouget paid the fine. In the global business of ”private security”, some would see it as pocket money. — Sapa-DPA