A great deal has been written about the hows, whys and wherefores of the July 11th terrorist attack on Kampala. That the attack was planned and executed by the Somalia-based extremist group Al Shabaab, bent on extracting revenge for the deployment of Ugandan peacekeeping troops in Somalia, appears in little doubt. It is further evidence of the danger that the chaos in Somalia presents to the region and beyond, if any were needed.
The response to the attacks has been swift. Government has promised to hunt down the perpetrators, and to continue the "fight for freedom" in Somalia (whatever that means). A range of security measures have been taken in Kampala, including an order by Kampala City Council that all bars and clubs should close by 10 pm, which has, predictably, been completely ignored. Worse, however, are the lengthy delays in entering shopping malls and other public places. It now takes a minimum of about 30 minutes to drive into the Garden City mall, for example, as all vehicles are searched and pedestrians scanned for terrorist devices. Entebbe Airport, once a shining light of efficiency and briskness among international airports, now requires a three-hour passenger check-in time for security access control, adding yet more disincentive to endure travel by air within the region.
When I was growing up in 1970s Britain, the IRA was a real and persistent threat. In 1972, the Aldershot army barracks - where my father worked as a lecturer to the Paratroop Regiment - were bombed in what was one of the first terrorist attacks in England. Only nine at the time, I had little understanding or appreciation of what had happened. Many other fatal attacks were made throughout the 1970s and 1980s, including audacious attacks on the House of Commons (when war hero and Conservative MP Airey Neave was killed) and, most memorably, on the Grand Hotel in Brighton during the Conservative party conference, when five people were killed and Margaret Thatcher herself narrowly avoided the explosion. It was a different era, of course, and the instruments of control and surveillance that exist now were in their infancy, but I have no recollection of changes in behaviour. Quite the opposite, in fact. Defiance, a refusal to make any concessions to the threat, to allow the threat of terrorism to interrupt day-to-day life, became a matter of pride. One of the more memorable quotes from JRR Tolkein's Lord of the Rings is "It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your [front] door." No doubt, but an accurate calibration of risk and return underpins more than just economic wellbeing.
Stubbornness, of course, is not necessarily a virtue, but in this case at least I think the UK had the right approach. To allow daily life to become interrupted by what remains an extremely low risk is, in some respects, a victory for terrorism, an acknowledgment of the irrational fear it provokes.
This is especially true in Uganda, where other high risk areas of daily life go ignored. The casual loss of life in Uganda from preventable accidents is staggering, far exceeding the threat from terrorism. In the last two weeks alone, there have been two cases of boats capsizing (on Lake Albert and Lake Victoria). The death toll from these entirely avoidable tragedies is similar to that of the terrorist attacks. In both boat accidents, for example, no life jackets or other flotation aids were on board. I wonder what action is being taken to reduce this risk in future.
Ugandan roads are even more deadly. There were more than 2,000 reported fatalities on Ugandan roads last year. Road accidents are too frequent to mention. The issuing of Ugandan drivers' licences is poorly regulated. Vehicles are not subject to annual roadworthiness tests. Buses are not fitted with seatbelts or speed regulators and hurtle through villages and towns at breakneck speed. Road surfaces are poor...... The list of causes is endless.
This morning, a traffic policeman, his overfed belly pushing at the seams of his spotlessly white uniform, waved me over and asked to see my driver’s licence. I duly produced it. He then walked slowly round my car and inspected my insurance certificate, before being interrupted by a personal call on his cellphone. After a short conversation, he wordlessly returned my licence to me and jerked his hand in what I took to be an invitation to drive on. During this pointless little charade, a large, overloaded truck shook, rattled and rolled its way past, its exhaust belching out black fumes, its tyres bald and its rear indicators and brake lights apparently not functioning.
Ugandan roads and waterways present a far greater risk to life and limb than terrorists, even after 7/11.
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