In a twist so improbable it could only be conceived by a gin-soaked dreamer, news arrives that British-trained Nigerian forces have actually done something useful. Reports confirm the liberation of scores of captives from Boko Haram’s fetid clutches. One can almost hear the clink of medals being polished in Whitehall.
But let us not get carried away. This is still Nigeria, a nation where the government treats corruption like a national sport and Boko Haram has made kidnapping a cottage industry. Yet here we are.
The 130-strong British training team, sent to teach the Nigerian army how to point guns in the right direction, has apparently succeeded. The operation, according to official sources, involved ‘precision strikes’ and ‘coordination.’ Cue the marching bands.
But let’s peel back the veil. These captives, mostly women and children, were not freed by the sheer might of British military doctrine. They were freed because someone, somewhere, decided to pay ransoms.
Or because Boko Haram’s fighters got bored. Or perhaps because the gin supply in their camps ran dry. We shall never know.
The British government will take credit, of course. Boris Johnson will appear on a podium, sweating through his suit, and declare it a victory for global Britain. He will not mention that the same British government has been selling arms to Saudi Arabia, which bombs Yemen, which fuels extremism.
He will not mention that the Nigerian army has a habit of committing human rights abuses. But why let facts get in the way of a good headline? The freed captives, their eyes hollowed by horror, will be paraded before cameras.
They will smile. They will thank their saviours. They will not mention the years of neglect, the corruption that allowed Boko Haram to flourish, the international community’s indifference.
That would be bad form. So let us raise a glass to the British-trained forces. They have done what they were paid to do.
Now, let us see if they can do it again. Or if this is merely a blip in the endless cycle of violence and despair. The gin is always half empty.
