| August 2014 | 57

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Mark Sedwill describes this isolated and proud region in Afghanistan

A new official history sheds light on the laconic, cricket-obsessed world of the Joint Intelligence Committee in the post-war era

Panjshir Valley

A tale of spies and spin bowlers

For a decade, the full might of the Red Army was turned against a small valley in northern Afghani-stan. Twenty years later, I went to the Panjshir

Valley for the first of many trips to understand how a small band of ragged guerrillas held out throughout the whole of the Soviet occupation. Of all the wonderful places I have had the luck to see, it is the most evocative.

I first saw the Panjshir from the window of a military helicopter. As we flew up through the neck of this typi-cal central Asian valley, I saw the first sign of an easing in the arid, mountainous desert we had traversed since leaving the plains north of Kabul. Far below the snow-capped peaks and steep, dusty slopes, I could make out the silvery strip of a small river and, at the valley’s wid-est points, no more than a couple of hundred metres of green. As we came in to land, I saw houses cut into the hillside and made from the same stone. It was a scene from Tolkien – except for the burnt-out wrecks of Rus-sian tanks, perfectly preserved in the dry desert air.

During several visits I met the leading Panjshiris, many of whom had fought throughout the Soviet occupation under their legendary commander, Ahmed Shah Mas-soud, who was assassinated two days before 9/11. A stark mausoleum and college is being built in his memory.

Hugely proud of their legacy, today’s Panjshiris don’t have the luxury of dwelling on it as they eke out a living: most families have a small plot, with those who are doing well owning a few chickens and goats. Some work on the few acres of cultivable land along the valley, or in the market; and the luckiest have a job with the western aid or military teams. Many of the young men have to move to Kabul to find work and send money back to their families.

Panjshir’s economy is pretty typical for Afghanistan; yet this is not a typical place. When I think of it, my abid-ing memory is of small boys having a snowball fight. It sounds no different to anywhere else – but in the Panjshir, snowballs are wrapped around a stone and dispatched with pin-point accuracy across the river via slingshot. That’s why the Panjshir is the place it is!

Mark Sedwill is permanent secretary of the Home Office

For almost 80 years, the Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) has been a central player in the secret machinery of the British government, providing a co-ordinated intel-

ligence service to policymakers that draws upon the work of the intelligence agencies and Whitehall departments. The JIC was created in 1936 and, after a slow start in the pre-war years, established itself as a central component of the governmental machinery during the Second World War. The post-war period saw the JIC’s role move beyond simply producing intelligence assessments, and the committee became integrated with the Whitehall foreign, defence and security policy machinery.

What was it like working on and with the JIC during this post-war period? Chester Cooper, an American who acted as a liaison with the JIC, provides a glimpse in his mem-oirs, recalling the first time he attended a JIC meeting:

“I was ushered into a gloomy, crowded, and cluttered conference room dominated by a table covered with a green, tea-stained baize cloth. A dozen or so men were slumped in chairs at the table or haphaz-ardly seated around the room… the owlish-looking man next to me (who mumbled ‘Economist, JIB’ when we were introduced) was thoughtfully absorbed in a Greek pentameter he was composing. The navy commander on my other side was dozing… the door flew open and someone shouted: ‘240 for 60!’ [sic] I heard cheers and groans. The intruder slammed the door.

“I barely had a chance to make my profound contribution…when there was a gentle knock on the door. The navy officer stirred himself, opened the door, and happily announced: ‘Elev-enses!’ Tea and biscuits were passed around. And then, once again, the door swung open and the mysterious interloper yelled: ‘310 for 80!’ [sic] I quickly learned that my first impres-sion of this group was completely wrong. Yes, they were laconic. Yes, cricket, elevenses, afternoon tea, and Greek pentameters were non-trivial considerations. But as I was soon to discover, they were bright… they were also serious and hardworking.”

Clearly Cooper did not get the hang of cricket scores during his stay in London! In fact, the frequent discussion of cricket scores was a deliberate move, according to one assistant secretary of the time, designed to demonstrate the ‘Englishness’ of the meetings.

This is an extract from The Official History of the Joint Intelli-gence Committee: Volume 1, written by Michael S Goodman. This volume covers 1936 to 1956, and is published by Routledge

_Personal & HIstory

Howzat?! Pre- & post-war cricketer Gubby Allen

No game A snowball fight in Panjshir

57 Life, History and Place I Love.indd 57 12/08/2014 14:13:46