One of the most surprising observations was the aid worker’s mobility given his appearance. We shared common ethnicity, appearance, and language skill. This man was easily identifiable as a Westerner. However, it did not impact his mobility whatsoever. The aid worker traveled alone across the country with zero support, communication plans, contingency plans, or weapons. And he did just fine, never experiencing a single incident that threatened his safety and well-being. Nobody seemed to care who he was or what he was doing, and if anyone did ask, it was primarily out of curiosity.
The author’s initial observation? By operating as a true “singleton,” one becomes so obscure and “low profile” that the demand for such exhaustive organizational risk management measures appears to change (within reason).
Is a low profile a guarantee of safety and security for sensitive military operations? Of course not. But anecdotally, the stark contrast between the two cultures (NGO and military) as they pertain to freedom of maneuver (aka mobility) and relative effectiveness, present a compelling contrast that needs to be examined further.
Let’s take a look at some vignettes.
When overseas, checkpoints are normally unpleasant. It can be difficult to assess under whose control they are and what actions will be taken if a team comes across one. What should be a routine check for papers and payment of a checkpoint “management fund” fee could quickly escalate to extensive questioning, detention, and an international incident. Therefore, checkpoints are generally avoided.
That aid worker, however, frequently traveled alone through a number of Arab, Kurdish, and other checkpoints with impunity, oftentimes interacting with forces such as the Iranian-backed Popular Mobilization Front (PMF) militias. They gave him no trouble whatsoever, even though he was a Westerner (this is borderline astounding given general Iranian animosity and malign influence, especially given tensions last year).
More often than not, the aid worker was not asked to furnish any documents (i.e. a visa), despite traveling through diverse regions under the control of militia or others. He barely spoke the language, was not armed, did not have a quick reaction force on standby. Yet, he could still come and go as he pleased.
In the military, missions generally only gain approval after extensive staffing (oftentimes spanning weeks or, more realistically, months-long) planning, rehearsal, numerous CONOPs, decision briefs, progress updates, white papers, and other such bureaucratic “operational” mission planning requirements.
While the author did not wish to ruin pleasant conversation with a discussion of such laborious bureaucratic processes, we can only surmise that NGO operations do not require such extensive feats of coordination, pre-briefing, read-aheads, or staff “churn.” Or so we’d like to think.
Whereas military operations are normally staged from highly defended and built-up forward operating bases or other locations, the aid worker lived alone, unprotected, in the middle of a small town outside Mosul. He frequently moved in taxis or rented vehicles across the region, only speaking a little of the local language. He relied on the goodwill and relationships of locals and used his local connections to help guarantee his personal security, safety, and welfare — all of which he built and maintained himself.
Most remarkably, the aid worker successfully accomplished this despite living and working in Iraq at a time of great uncertainty following the U.S. targeted killing of former Iranian Quds Force commander, Qasem Soleimani.
A few downsides
The benefits of assessing the aid worker’s mobility in Iraq are most useful when attempting to replicate his general placement and access to a large geographical area that is inhabited by a number of diverse populations. Such environments are something Special Operations attempt to replicate when conducting sensitive activities.
Without highlighting any of the operational details that make sensitive Special Operations successful, the anecdotal contrast with the mobility experienced by the aid worker remains noteworthy. Certainly, there is an extensive and well-exercised framework in place that provides a reasonable amount of risk mitigation during special operations. Processes ensure redundancy, security, safety, structure, and support.
This generally applies to all aspects of mission planning and execution. What such military operations lack in relative agility and mobility they arguably compensate for with robustness. Need a quick reaction force? One call away. Miss your communications window? There’s a variant time and explicit plan in place for what to do next. About to be overrun? Fire mission is incoming.
This is not to say that NGOs lack such risk mitigation capacity. All organizations stand to benefit from risk management and generally seek to mitigate risk in a manner that better enables their operations.
But are Special Operations becoming victims of their own meticulous planning and mission execution? Has risk management transformed into risk aversion as commanders’ tolerance for risk decreases with the rise of “no-fail” expectations? Have we been culturally conditioned to expect zero casualties, exposure, or adverse impacts to our mission and force? At what point do we “shoot ourselves in the foot” with exhaustive mission planning and approval processes that limit our ability to operate in a capacity similar to the aid worker, i.e. autonomous, alone, and unafraid?
Thanks for listening.
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