The announcement by the Afghanistan Inquiry that restrictions have been lifted that had previously prevented journalists from naming the Special Air Service (SAS) and Special Boat Service (SBS) is, in a smallish way, a victory for open justice. Yet it is perhaps better framed as the correction of a restriction that should never have been there in the first place.
For almost three years, media organisations covering the Inquiry have been required to use coded references such as “UKSF1†and “UKSF3†instead of identifying Britain's best-known special forces units by name. It was a restriction in an inquiry that was asking if these units had committed war crimes in Afghanistan that sat awkwardly alongside the obvious: that the SAS and SBS have long been publicly acknowledged by successive governments, ministers and military officials.
In his ruling, the Inquiry Chair, Lord Justice Haddon-Cave, concluded that continuing the restriction was no longer justified. He found that allowing the terms “SAS†and “SBS†to be used would not materially increase risks to national security, would help the Inquiry address public concern, and was no longer necessary in the public interest.
Those are no insignificant findings. But they are also striking because they point to a question that has lingered throughout these proceedings and many other refusals of the British state to ever talk about Special Forces operations: if the risk was not substantial, why was the restriction imposed in the first place?
It reminds this author of the time when the Ministry of Defence refused to say in which country a British military overseas operation was taking place because to do so would potentially jeopardise the mission. It was never made clear how just naming the country would post such a threat.
Coming back to London – the purpose of public inquiries is not simply to establish facts. They are also intended to command public confidence and underpinning this is the need for transparency. The use of ciphers to describe organisations that are already widely known created an unnecessary barrier between the Inquiry and the public it serves.
Furthermore, the ruling does not represent a wholesale removal of protections.
Restrictions remain in place around the identities of individual personnel, operational details and specific squadrons. The Chair also rejected an application to permit the naming of two senior special forces figures, concluding that doing so could still pose a material risk of harm, including to national security. Those safeguards continue to recognise the genuine sensitivities that surround special operations. It also makes you wonder – where else in public life is such protection offered?
The decision to call the SAS by their name therefore strikes a balance. It acknowledges that transparency and security are not mutually exclusive, and that excessive secrecy can itself undermine confidence in public institutions.
There is a tendency to portray any increase in openness surrounding special forces as extraordinary. This is not such a moment.
Indeed, the more notable aspect of this ruling may be how unremarkable it is. Allowing journalists to identify the SAS and SBS does not reveal secret capabilities, expose operational methods or endanger personnel. It merely permits reporting to reflect what the public already knows.
The deeper concern is that if it has taken this long to establish that the SAS and SBS can be named openly, one is left wondering whether the inquiry will ever generate the momentum required to achieve meaningful accountability. Should those under scrutiny ultimately be found responsible for the acts alleged, the real test will not be transparency, but whether the process leads to consequences commensurate with the gravity of the findings.
Did you find this story interesting? Please support AOAV’s work and donate.
Donate
