Mother and baby among five killed in Iran terror attack
Explosions and gunfire were heard when gunmen stormed a courthouse in Zahedan, the capital of the Sistan-Baluchestan province, on Saturday morning.
The attackers attempted to pose as visitors before throwing a hand grenade into the building, according to Alireza Daliri, deputy police commander of the province.
Iranian media reported that assailants stormed the judges' chambers during the attack which also injured 20.
Five civilians were killed and three attackers were shot dead in clashes with security forces, according to the Iranian state media agency IRNA. The overall number of assailants is not clear.
Some of the civilians killed and wounded were judiciary staff and security personnel, according to the Baluch human rights group HAALVSH, citing eyewitnesses.
The Sunni Jaish al-Adl Baluch group took responsibility for the attack in a statement posted to Telegram, urging civilians 'to immediately evacuate the area of clashes for their safety.'
The Sistan-Baluchestan province borders Pakistan and Afghanistan and has frequently seen attacks between security forces and armed groups, including Sunni militants who say they are fighting for more rights and autonomy.
It is home to the country's Sunni Muslim Baluch minority and is one of the most deprived provinces in the country.
Jaish al-Adl, or the 'Army of Justice', is a Sunni militant group founded in 2012 that operates mainly in the Sistan-Baluchestan province on the border with Pakistan.
It has previously claimed responsibility for attacks against Iranian security forces.
In October last year, Jaish al-Adl claimed responsibility for an attack in which ten police officers were killed in the city of Taftan.
In January last year, a cross-border Iranian missile attack on two bases reported to belong to Jaish al-Adl in Pakistan's Balochistan province killed two children and wounded three others, leading Pakistan to withdraw its ambassador from Iran.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
BreakingNews.ie
17 hours ago
- BreakingNews.ie
Lammy not accepting Iran's claims over enriched uranium
Foreign Secretary David Lammy says he does not accept Iran's claims that the country is enriching uranium for academic purposes. Representatives from the United Kingdom, Germany and France held talks with Iran last week to try to break the deadlock over the country's nuclear programme. Advertisement Tehran maintains it is open to diplomacy, though it recently suspended cooperation with the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA). A central concern for western powers was highlighted when the IAEA reported in May that Iran's stockpile of uranium enriched to 60% – just below weapons-grade level – had grown to more than 400kg. In a wide-ranging interview with The Guardian, Mr Lammy said: 'Its leaders cannot explain to me – and I've had many conversations with them – why they need 60% enriched uranium. 'If I went to Sellafield or Urenco in Cheshire, they haven't got anything more than 6%. The Iranians claim it's for academic use, but I don't accept that.' Advertisement Mr Lammy warned that Iran developing nuclear weapons could lead to an escalation of tensions in the Middle East. Israel and the United States carried our strikes on Iranian nuclear facilities in June. 'Many of your readers will have watched Oppenheimer and seen the fallout of (the US building an atomic bomb),' he said. 'So it's what (a nuclear Iran) might mean in terms of other countries in the neighbourhood who would desire one, too. And we would be very suddenly handing over to our children and grandchildren a world that had many more nuclear weapons in it than it has today.' Advertisement The Foreign Secretary said he had heard Israeli arguments in favour of regime change in Tehran, but did not believe that was behind the US decision to strike. The Tottenham MP added any decision to topple the government was one for the Iranian people, with his focus 'on what the UK can do to stop Iran becoming a nuclear power'. Last month, Mr Lammy suggested that Britain, France and Germany could 'snap back' on sanctions against Iran unless the country gets 'serious' about stepping back from its nuclear ambitions. He told the Commons Foreign Affairs Committee: 'Iran face even more pressure in the coming weeks because the E3 can snap back on our sanctions, and it's not just our sanctions, it's actually a UN mechanism that would impose dramatic sanctions on Iran across nearly every single front in its economy. Advertisement 'So they have a choice to make. It's a choice for them to make. 'I'm very clear about the choice they should make, but I'm also clear that the UK has a decision to make that could lead to far greater pain for the Iranian regime unless they get serious about the international desire to see them step back from their nuclear ambitions at this time.'
The Guardian
18 hours ago
- The Guardian
‘The world is on edge': five tumultuous weeks with David Lammy, foreign secretary at a time of crisis
'Remind me: why weren't we able to meet in Washington DC?' David Lammy asks, spoon of Pret chicken laksa suspended in front of his mouth. It's lunchtime in the foreign secretary's office, a vast room of gilt edges, damask drapery and waxed oak. 'Because Israel bombed Iran, and your trip was cancelled,' I say. 'Oh, yes.' He scrapes the bottom of the pot, perhaps remembering the snap Cobra session on 13 June, the world holding its breath, the shared feeling we were on the brink of global war. It's three weeks on and the heat of imminent conflict has lessened, if not the actual temperature, shining in the faces of staff. Lammy apologises for squeezing me into his lunch break. His schedule, running down a whiteboard in the ante office, is precision-timed. After our chat, he will be whisked off to Cyprus to see British troops, then to Beirut overnight, then a car ride through the mountains into Syria, where he'll meet the new president, Ahmed al-Sharaa, formerly the head of the Islamist group Hay'at Tahrir al-Sham (HTS). Lammy will be the first British minister to set foot in the country in 14 years. He lifts his chin to prevent yellow soup dropping on his 'sombre' green tie. You can sense his mood, he'll tell me later, by his tie choice. Ordinarily he brings miso from home in a flask, but sometimes he's left too early, or sped from an overnight flight, and then it's the laksa, 296 calories. He's on a diet, an intermittent fasting, 'little bit no carby' regime. Plus he hasn't drunk alcohol since taking the job: 'I can't drink and fly. It interrupts my sleep.' His last was a teeny half-pint watching England v Switzerland in the Euros on his first official trip last year. He's taken 90 flights and visited 62 countries since, mostly on the UK government Airbus that gives him a stiff back – he is 53. Sleeping pills are an essential part of the job, he says. 'There's always a trip to the CVS pharmacy in Washington DC to buy the best melatonin gummies.' This interview was originally set up to mark Lammy's first year as foreign secretary. It's also 26 years since the young lawyer, brought up by a Guyanese single mother, was elected as Labour MP for Tottenham, London. What it becomes is a snapshot of a foreign secretary in international crisis. Not that Lammy seems to break a sweat. I tail him for five weeks on foot, in cars, on trains. Even when the heatwave melts train tracks, he doesn't loosen the Tyrwhitt tie or shed his TM Lewin jacket. Mostly he's cheery, slipping between bursts of uproarious laughter, which involves table banging, and thunderous rhetoric, which involves table banging. In a foreign affairs select committee hearing, his foot beats the seconds as he's grilled on Israel, Iran and Ukraine. During a French state visit, he shows his counterpart an original Enigma machine and spells out how it works. In a constituency community centre, he lets West Indian aunties pinch his cheeks and cry into his lapel. Only once do I see him nettled, prodding a cross finger in my direction because I inadvertently hit a nerve. We finish in the week he signs a joint statement with 28 other foreign ministers demanding an immediate stop to the bombing of Gaza. On Radio 4's Today, he energetically rebutts the suggestion that he hasn't blocked all arms exports to Israel. On LBC, Nick Ferrari reminds him it's the sixth time he's called for a ceasefire: 'Why would they be listening now?' Lammy sounds downcast: 'I regret hugely that I've not been able to bring the horrendous war to an end.' But Gaza is the wound that will not heal. I wonder if it will be Lammy's diplomatic apotheosis or his undoing. It's the issue that impels protesters to put fake baby body bags in his front garden, that brings them to a sleepy village church with loudhailers to amplify the death toll, now surpassing 59,000, according to the Gaza health ministry. It's the issue that focuses outrage directly on to him, that right now he's under most pressure to solve. The last time we speak, against dire warnings of impending famine, he has hardened his line. He calls shooting civilians waiting for aid 'grotesque', 'sick'; demands 'accountability' from the Israeli side. He says things are 'desperate for people on the ground, desperate for the hostages in Gaza', that the world is 'desperate for a ceasefire, for the suffering to come to an end'. He tells me he wants to go to Gaza 'as soon as I can get in'. In person, on the ground? 'Absolutely. One hundred per cent.' So what is Lammy's mission as foreign secretary? He has described it as 'progressive realism' – using pragmatic methods to achieve progressive outcomes as Britain's stature dwindles. So far this has meant reassembling our relationship with the EU, reimagining how we use our influence on the world stage and – crucially – managing the relationship with Donald Trump. As a cocksure backbencher, Lammy had described the American president as 'deluded, dishonest, xenophobic, narcissistic', a 'neo-Nazi-sympathising sociopath' and a 'tyrant in a toupee'. One can only imagine whether his collar felt tight as the lift doors clamped shut and he rose to the penthouse of Trump Tower in autumn last year. It was the run-up to the US election; Trump had invited both Britain's new prime minister, Keir Starmer, and his foreign secretary to dinner at home. Lammy says Trump was a 'very gracious host', giving them a guided tour of his Louis XIV-inspired triplex and art collection. Floor-to-ceiling windows insulated them from the blaring midtown horns 58 storeys below. Lammy was awe-struck by the gold, he says, how ornate it was, 'how expensive'. And later, Trump extinguished the lights and they stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the dark, admiring the glittering Manhattan skyline. 'It was pretty incredible.' Overall, his impression was that Trump wanted them to feel at ease, wanted them to like the roast chicken he served; joshing when Lammy had a second helping. It was not long after Trump had been shot in Pennsylvania. He was really shaken, Lammy thought, obsessed by it, 'as you would imagine', but at the same time going out of his way to make sure his guests were OK. 'The thing running through my mind was post-traumatic stress disorder,' Lammy says. 'The years it takes to recover from shocking events like that. How would I be feeling weeks later, if someone had tried to shoot me?' He thought of constituents who had experienced knife crime and gun violence, and felt, 'that whilst [Trump] was shaken, he didn't want to dwell on it. He could have said, 'I'm going to do the very minimum now because I'm not feeling great.'' Lammy clocked Trump's two chefs staring at him. 'I couldn't work out why I was of such import in the context of Donald Trump and Keir Starmer.' Finally, they approached. ''Please, please, can we have a photograph? We know your family is from Guyana, we want to send it home.'' Did Trump see that, I ask? 'Yeah,' Lammy says. 'They were also pleased that I had eaten more than everybody else.' I ask him to conjure what I would have observed had his trip to Washington DC gone ahead in June. He moves forward in his chair. 'The whole world was on the edge of its seat,' he says, 'so you would've seen foreign policy at its most heightened.' All agreed Iran should not have nuclear weapons: the question was how to stop that. Lammy says that his bridge-building role would have been to enter detailed discussions with secretary of state Marco Rubio and Middle East envoy Steve Witkoff, before shuttling to Geneva to inform the other E3 members, France and Germany. 'I remember as a young student doing history, reading about the Cuban missile crisis in 1962,' he says. 'There are these moments when the world is on edge, worried. This year, that was one of those moments. You'd have had a sense of that.' Lammy says the threat from Iran is real. 'Its leaders cannot explain to me – and I've had many conversations with them – why they need 60% enriched uranium. If I went to Sellafield or Urenco in Cheshire, they haven't got anything more than 6%. The Iranians claim it's for academic use, but I don't accept that. It was Gordon Brown who accused Iran of deceit when they established Fordow [the underground enrichment site] and revealed that to the world back in 2009.' As a rule, Lammy prefers diplomacy to military intervention, but is 'clear eyed' about 'parts of the Iranian system that have a certain objective'. And it's not just nuclear war between Iran and Israel that troubles him. 'Many of your readers will have watched Oppenheimer and seen the fallout of [the US building an atomic bomb]. So it's what [a nuclear Iran] might mean in terms of other countries in the neighbourhood who would desire one, too. And we would be very suddenly handing over to our children and grandchildren a world that had many more nuclear weapons in it than it has today.' Each night, Lammy knows his sleep may be disrupted (his wife doesn't mind; 'She seems to be able to survive on far less sleep than I') and he'd already gone to bed on 21 June when his mobile started buzzing. It was Marco Rubio telling him the US was about to strike Iran. How much warning did they give? He demurs, saying the PM had been told, and military channels, simultaneously. Was it minutes? 'I was also asleep when President Trump was shot,' he continues, ignoring the question. 'In those initial moments the extent of his injuries wasn't clear. I remember waking up, thinking, oh my God!' He insists the US decision to bomb was not in order to topple Iran's government, though he has 'been exposed to' Israeli arguments in favour of regime change. 'Let's face it, there are lots of people in Iran who would like regime change. But there are no guarantees that what would replace the current Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps would not be as bad or worse.' He pats the table. 'So, that is for the Iranian people to determine. I'm focused on what the UK can do to stop Iran becoming a nuclear power.' For much of his political career, Lammy emphasised his friendship with Barack Obama. They met in 2005 at a gathering of Harvard Law School's black alumni. In interviews he's produced evidence of their familiarity, including a written note from the Democrat former president urging him to 'keep up the good fight'. Today, Lammy is keen to stress his ties with Republicans. He has 'a really good relationship' with Rubio, for instance, and they speak every week. 'We joke about the fact that my heritage is Guyanese, his is Cuban; faith matters to him, faith matters to me. He's journeyed a long way to where he is today, as have I. He's incredibly professional, very bright, consumes a brief.' Lammy also calls vice-president JD Vance 'a friend'. I ask why they get on. 'I remember being at the inauguration of the new pope in Rome, with Angela Rayner and JD Vance,' he says. He seems tickled by the memory: 'I don't think JD and Angela will mind me saying that they were having a couple of drinks.' The setting was the gardens in Villa Taverna, the US ambassador's residence, and 'it was one of those lovely warm days in Italy'. Vance dropped ice cubes into wine glasses and filled them with rosé. 'I really wanted a glass'– Lammy says he has a weakness for rosé – 'but instead I had a Diet Coke.' I ask if Rayner was boisterous. 'I wouldn't say she's rowdy when she has a drink because Angela Rayner has a big character. I mean, she is the Barbara Castle of our era. That's not confined to a drink, it is her personality. She has so much character, so much spine, she makes me a bit shy. My personality is not as big as hers and we are there with the vice-president. So, I was probably the shyest of the three.' It occurred to him that they were 'not just working-class politicians, but people with dysfunctional childhoods. I had this great sense that JD completely relates to me and he completely relates to Angela. So it was a wonderful hour and a half.' Like Rubio, Vance is a Catholic. Did they talk about faith? 'I've had mass with him, in his home,' Lammy says, then glances at his spad and cries, 'I can see the adviser twitching. 'He's mentioned religion!' It's an Alastair Campbell moment!' (He's referring to Tony Blair's spin doctor saying, 'We don't do God.') The adviser assures him it's fine. Against expectations, Trump has made unprompted references to how much he 'really likes' Starmer, 'even though he's a liberal'. The UK was the first to secure a tariff deal from Trump, and is still an exception. It's one of the few conspicuous achievements of this Labour government. But Lammy agonises over the hiccups. Not least, Volodymyr Zelenskyy's televised Oval Office appearance, when the Ukrainian president was ridiculed by Trump and Vance in the manner of two cats batting a mouse. 'If I'm being honest, I felt, arrghhh!' Lammy says. 'Why hadn't I done more to support our Ukrainian colleagues in preparation for their meeting?' He quickly supplies the answer: the Ukrainians were invited last-minute, the British were focused on their own Trump meeting, there wasn't time, so 'I was being a bit hard on myself. But I still felt guilty.' Starmer rang Zelenskyy and invited him to No 10 the next day. 'That embrace with Keir – I still feel quite emotional when I think about it – was a moment where the whole world breathed a sigh of relief.' Indeed, for Lammy this moment – Starmer and Zelenskyy locked in a bear hug on the pavement in Downing Street – was the 'epitome of Britain being back in the place the global community wants us: bridge building, a glue, with a history that helps connects us to much of the world'. He describes travelling to Ukraine, the night trains from Poland to Lviv and on to Kyiv, arriving early morning to demolished apartment blocks, sandbags and bunkers, all reminiscent of war-torn Europe. 'You asked me what it means to work in the Foreign Office building and the room I have. In a way, Ukraine powerfully connects me to Attlee, to Churchill, to that story, because we've got war on the continent. It's an old seam and it's a very fundamental part of the job.' He says he's building on the work of previous foreign secretaries; of David Cameron, James Cleverly, Boris Johnson, Liz Truss. 'You are at the centre of European security – probably the most fundamental part of my job. Here, Britain is absolutely in a leadership role.' Where will the war be in a year's time? 'My sober assessment is that Putin is not ready to seriously negotiate. He still has maximalist and imperialist ambitions. The battle Ukraine has fought, with UK, European and American support, is immense. I suspect that in a year's time, talks will be going on. The question is how serious Russia is about those talks.' He admires the people of Ukraine, 'their tenacity, their sort of steadfastness. The fact that even if the world left them behind, they'd still be waging a guerrilla war, such is their belief in their country. It's deeply inspiring.' Lammy's efforts to fit everything into his insanely packed schedule has come with a cost. In the Easter holidays, he and his wife, the artist Nicola Green, interrupted a family ski trip in France to travel to Italy to join King Charles on a state visit. After three days, 'minding our ps and qs and being on best behaviour', they waved the king off at the airport and 'collapsed into' a pre-paid taxi to go back to the Alps. After a work trip like that, Lammy says, 'you're knackered'. The subsequent ride was first reported from the point of view of the French driver, who said that he realised Lammy was a VIP and argued he should be paid an extra £600. Lammy refused. An altercation ensued and, fearing the British foreign secretary had a gun, he drove off with their suitcases still in the boot. Newspapers devoured this version, but the driver has since been arrested for theft. A court date is set for the autumn. Lammy's version: towards the end of the six-hour journey, he and Green became suspicious that 'the driver was taking longer than necessary'. They asked why and 'it culminated in him demanding more money and pulling a knife'. Lammy did not see the knife – he was in the back seat because Green speaks better French – but 'my wife saw it. He opened the glove compartment and showed it to her. She was terrified'. Although 'it was scary', Lammy did not panic. 'I've got a pretty cool head. I've experienced quite a lot of things in my 53 years on the planet. I am not easily fazed.' When he and Green got out, the driver accelerated off. 'We went to the police and they got our stuff back.' It was a bitter experience, 'just awful, is the truth'. I ask if he was carrying a gun, and Lammy roars with laughter. 'No. I don't think I've ever held a handgun. Or shot one on a firing range.' Before I leave, an official photographer gets me to pose with Lammy, either side of a glass case holding an Enigma machine. Lammy, cropped hair speckled grey, straightens to his full 6ft, grin switching on like a lighthouse beam. As I slip out, he's tucking into a pot of yoghurt, officials closing in to brief him. Five days later, we're in Room 8 at the House of Commons as Lammy faces the foreign affairs select committee. The room is humid, the mood intense. Emily Thornberry asks in a voice of sweet menace what the British reaction is to a report that the Israeli government plans to move 600,000 Gazans into a humanitarian transit camp on the ruins of Rafah. Lammy says they are focused on a ceasefire, and briefs on the sticking points. Thornberry says the government has repeatedly said it would recognise Palestine: 'I know today the two-state solution feels like a million miles away, but increasing numbers of people are concerned that if we continue to hold back on the recognition of Palestine, there won't be anything left to recognise.' Lammy says he is working on a timetable with allies, including France, and agrees that there has been 'more expansion in the West Bank in the last year than in the 15 preceding it. More violence … that the viability of two states is being put in question by those who are determined to pursue this.' Abtisam Mohamed MP asks for an assurance that the UK would oppose any deal that allowed any part of the West Bank to become part of new Israeli territory. Lammy says the settler violence flouts international law and Oslo. Thornberry flips open a black fan like a flamenco dancer, wagging it with impatience at her face. Afterwards, I am bustled into Room 5 for a catchup. Lammy seems distracted. He was strong on the criminality of settlers in the West Bank but why, given the accepted definition of terrorism – the use or threat of use of violence for political ends – does he not consider these acts terrorism? He sighs. A clock ticks like the tap of a teaspoon on china. 'They're criminal acts. They're illegal acts. They're acts that we condemn and they're acts that we've sought to sanction. They're reprehensible and they're designed to thwart those of us who believe that 'two states' is the only viable alternative. There is a set of voices in Israel that are determined to see a greater Israel [and] no [Palestinian] state at all. I stand against those voices.' I press: why are they not seen as terrorist acts by the UK government? 'I don't think they're described as terrorist acts traditionally. I've sat with families who are subjected to violence and threats. Those families experience them as criminal acts. We support those families both financially and to advocate for their rights. We support the Palestinian Authority speaking up for many of those families.' Two weeks later, he finally shifts this position, describing 'settler terrorism' in comments to the House. While he was in Damascus, I say, the Home Office declared the UK group Palestine Action a terrorist organisation. Are their protests 'terrorist acts traditionally'? And while Lammy shook hands with President al-Sharaa, a former member of al-Qaida, and pledged UK support in the rebuilding of Syria, Sue Parfitt, an 83-year old vicar, was carted off by the police under counter-terrorism laws. Does that feel like a contradiction? 'That's a decision for the home secretary,' he says, adding of Yvette Cooper, 'She sees warrants on a daily basis that are deeply challenging and worrying. Hers come from MI5. I see warrants based on threats overseas from MI6. She has to make assessments about terrorism. She's made that assessment. She has my full support.' What was Sharaa like? 'Measured. Presented well. Calm. Suit. Articulate.' Suit? 'He was suited.' As opposed to wearing combat fatigues? 'Yes. I was aware – and I pushed him on it, of course – that he once was a terrorist.' What did he say? 'He said that was in time of war. He has learned. His focus is on bringing his country together, getting past the economic hardship – 90% of Syria is living in poverty. I said, 'When I go back to my country, people will ask me, is he still a terrorist?' He wanted to convince me that was the past. He recognises that he has to operate as leader in an inclusive way, face the future, rebuild the nation. We're working with him on counter-terrorism – against Daesh [Isis] and others in the country that are deeply worrying. This is a very fragile time, but all of us want Syria to succeed. So we've got to work with him.' The young David Lammy was well-known for his political activism. Before his postgrad at Harvard Law School, he read Law at the School of Oriental and African Studies and practised as a barrister in London and the US. When he won his seat aged 27, he was the youngest MP in the house. He was spotted early by Blair and Brown, and moved through a series of jobs. Later, in opposition, he was seen as being on the left of the party and combined his work in Westminster with trigger-happy tweets and his own popular radio show on LBC. He says that although he is wearing 'a diplomatic hat' today, 'underneath it all is an activist and a social campaigner for sure'. I ask then, in the light of so many people protesting to little effect, what actually works? 'Well, perhaps it's best to look back on my career. I advocated for those [discriminated against] in the Windrush scandal, which led to an inquiry and a compensation scheme. I was also the first politician the morning after Grenfell to call for an inquiry.' His friend Khadija Saye, a 24-year-old artist and assistant at his wife's art studio, lived on the 20th floor and died in the fire. He's conscious that while some conflicts are highly visible, others are not. It grates that there isn't more interest in the war in Sudan, which affects him personally. Privately, he'll say it's because those dying are African and black. Today, he says, Sudan is 'the worst in terms of life lost and civilian catastrophe. Millions of women and children are suffering, raped, burned, killed. It's not commanding global attention. It's not on the news regularly. I have probably been the most prominent foreign secretary in the G7 and in Europe on the issue of Sudan.' He convened the London conference, put down a UN motion 'which the Russians vetoed' and promises to 'keep returning to the issue. Today I'm not acting as an activist. I'm the country's chief diplomat. And diplomacy is often failing until it wins, is the truth. Look at Northern Ireland.' Sign up to Inside Saturday The only way to get a look behind the scenes of the Saturday magazine. Sign up to get the inside story from our top writers as well as all the must-read articles and columns, delivered to your inbox every weekend. after newsletter promotion Does the Israel-Gaza war affect him personally, too? 'Oh, there have been many days of deep frustration, deep sadness.' Has he shed tears? 'I haven't shed tears because … I don't know the last time I cried. It was a long time ago, probably when my mother died. But have there been moments in this last year where I've felt deep sadness? Yes.' Lammy's constituency – one of the most diverse in the world, he says – includes a significant number of Charedim in Stamford Hill. The ultraorthodox Jewish community, who are particularly visible because of their distinctive traditional dress, have borne the brunt of rising antisemitism including violence, damage to property and, Lammy says, 'horrible scenes of abuse in the streets'. When he visited a Jewish girls' school soon after the Hamas atrocities of 7 October, there was a palpable sense of shock, Lammy says. 'I could feel the fear. It was very strong. There was a vulnerability among those women. And among their elders were Holocaust survivors.' He says the community tell him 'they are focused on the hostages, on Hamas and terrorism'. Lammy was closely involved with the family of Emily Damari, the British hostage who was released, aged 28, in January 2025 after being held in Gaza by Hamas for 471 days. While not a constituent, she was a Tottenham Hotspur fan, so 'her mother and I met many times. She gave me a plastic flower to keep in a vase in my office and said, 'You can take it out when my daughter is free.'' It is still on his desk: Lammy talks about the need to get the remaining hostages released as part of a ceasefire. He also works with constituents with ties to Gaza and the West Bank. 'Palestinian groups and NGO workers I have met are also bereft and feel a desperate gnawing pain. It goes back to a visceral and almost ancient discourse around land and two communities who have experienced injustice for so many years.' How does he cope with the protests outside his home? 'Something has changed in politics, particularly in this social media age. When I started, people wrote to you in green ink. Now the immediacy, the personalisation, the way your family, your children are involved ... I'm not going to pretend that in terms of my wife and my children I don't feel protective.' He says the 'dehumanising elements of politics are very troubling, very wounding, painful'. We are outside the British Library in St Pancras, waiting to greet the French foreign secretary. Lammy is exuberant. 'My wife said as I left, 'That's a nice tie, darling.'' It's bright blue, flapping in the breeze. Cars disgorge French officials, including the lean foreign secretary Jean-Noël Barrot, who has a graze of stubble and is pulling on a chic black vape. There's handshaking, smiles, pictures, then a brisk walk up the side of the building, past rat traps and the smell of skunk, and into the lift for lunch at the Alan Turing Institute. Lammy peers at their Enigma machine, an upgrade from the one in his office, he says. On a table, someone has laid out La Durée macarons next to Fortnum & Mason fudge. A lot of public diplomacy requires standing next to symbolic objects and being photographed with folders containing signed 'understandings'. Most of the work is done on WhatsApp. I overhear one of the French team whispering about how strong Emmanuel Macron's cologne is, how it leaves a trail in his wake. Lammy and Barrot exchange details of their summer holidays, then Lammy leaves – bolting to see his daughter's school play. He won't be at the state banquet tonight because he's on a flight to Malaysia. In opposition, he said he would travel at the pace of a US secretary of state. While he's making good on that promise, British stalling over the recognition of a Palestinian state is frustrating the French. But, recognition, Lammy says 'is, a card you can only play once'. The imperative, he says, is to end the violence. As we go to press, Macron commits to recognise Palestine at the UN in September. The next time we speak, he's eating a pork pie. It's the day after Diane Abbott's second suspension from Labour, having said she did 'not at all' regret the events that led to her suspension in 2023. Back then, she had written to the Observer saying Jews, Travellers and Irish people do not suffer racism in the way black people do. But that they experience prejudice that is 'similar' to racism. Lammy says he had previously intervened to ensure she would be readmitted to the party, 'because I was sad such an immense politician, the first of her kind in parliament, had found herself in this situation'. He had been doing all he could 'behind the scenes' to bring her back in. 'So I was very frustrated and upset that this had arisen again as a result of her out-of-nowhere backtracking on that statement.' He says whatever the outcome of the latest investigation, 'I will continue to consider her a friend and have respect for her.' While we are on the subject of his colleagues, I ask how he felt about Starmer's 'island of strangers' speech on immigration, and the echoes of Enoch Powell in that phrase. 'I think the use of language was poor,' he says. 'Poor choice. And if someone had shown me the speech, I would've said, 'Take that out.'' How does he reflect on a year of Labour in government? He lists their 'big successes', the 'dozens of things' they have done to improve people's lives' from planning reform to early years provision. But adds, 'I slightly worry we have not conveyed that as well as we could.' I ask if I can add to that quote the wink he just gave me. He laughs. It's boiling in the Grace Organisation community centre in Tottenham, a meeting place for older, predominantly West Indian constituents, some with disabilities or incipient dementia. Paulette Yusuf, who runs the place, is explaining the dilapidated state of the building and Lammy is nodding, deferring to an official on ways they might be able to help. In the main hall, an uplifting reggae gospel mix is playing. Scattered on tables are puzzles, colouring-in sets, books and games, including a box of Royal Bingo with William and Kate on the lid. At the back, there's the snap of dominoes from a table of men, the occasional outburst. People look round when Lammy enters wearing his biggest smile yet. 'My mum had her 60th here,' he says. 'Hello, my good MP!' An elderly lady in large pearl earrings calls him over. She lives on his street. Another in a blue lace jacket is eating a pot of yoghurt. 'We love you,' she says, but he's being enveloped in a hug by a lady in a white hat. 'You exist!' 'I do exist,' he says. 'Who's that, Lammy?' another asks. 'I've been hearing about you for years,' she tells him. 'Good things?' Lammy wonders. She pinches his cheek. One woman knew his mum when she arrived in London: they worked together at the tube station in Camden. 'That's a long way back,' Lammy says, 'You can't have been more than 12.' She bats him away. Some attendees are in hi-vis, Sharpied with 'If you see me walking alone, please call this number' followed by the Grace mobile. 'I think I need one of those,' Lammy whispers. Next, he's on the mic. He gives a shout out to all the countries in the Caribbean – 'Do we have anyone from St Lucia? Jamaica? Barbados?' Each time there are cheers. Swaying to the music by the stage is a man in a pink cowboy hat. Lammy approaches. The man puts his fists up. For one heart-stop instant it looks as if the foreign secretary will be punched. Lammy doesn't flinch. He puts his fists up and the two play at shadow boxing. His security detail un-tense. Afterwards I ask if it bothers him or his team that he is hugged and handled so much. 'I'm quite touchy,' he says with a note of glee. His spad tells me I can't use that in the wrong way. 'No, I am quite touchy,' Lammy insists. 'I don't care. I am a bit old-fashioned that way. I have a lot of respect for the elderly. That's how I was brought up. My mother worked at the end of her life in sheltered housing as a housing officer. That human contact is important and I'm very comfortable with it.' Up the road at the Marcus Garvey Library, Lammy will take his constituency surgery, then record a podcast in the car on the way to King's Cross. We're taking the train to Peterborough – a journey of significance as a teenager. Not only was this the train that took him to his state boarding school aged 11, it was also on a platform here one spring Saturday in 1985 that he last saw his dad. David Lammy senior bent down to his son's height, told him he loved him, to look after his mother, and kissed him goodbye. He had left the family home and later moved to America. Lammy says it was the single most 'scarring' event in his life. 'My father didn't come back. Psychologically that is devastating. There must have been a bit of me that blamed myself. I question whether he did in fact love me.' This he works through in therapy: he has 'a wonderful' therapist and GP and has taken Prozac for anxiety. He finds the issue around his father hardest when he looks at his own children. 'I could not imagine leaving them. I just couldn't. I'm troubled that he was so troubled. I tend not to dwell on the past, but I do recognise the way the past informs who you are.' Lammy Sr was a taxidermist and alcoholic, hot-tempered and prone to rage. Previously Lammy has described his parents' marriage as 'tempestuous'. He clarifies that this included domestic violence. Did he witness it? 'Yes.' Did he try to intervene? 'No, no. I was the child holding my ears, crying in my bedroom … This feeling in the pit of your stomach, just this terror.' Was it a regular occurrence? 'Regular enough.' Did the police come round? 'Nooo, absolutely not. No one cared.' He adds that in those days in the communities where he grew up – Irish, Cypriot, 'cockney' working-class, black West Indian – 'a lot of men were going to the pub, coming home and beating their wives. It was the 70s. Violence was common. There were fights in the playground: kids mimicking what they'd seen at home – not that these things are unique to class, either.' His mother Rosalind would not have left her husband, he believes. Like many of her generation, she felt trapped. 'My mother was still very much a country girl at heart. When Dad left, we thought we'd be taken into care. We didn't know if my mum could survive. She wasn't making much money in those days.' She struggled with the bills and bureaucracy, and 'how you handle the state'. Lammy helped her 'a lot': 'I was like one of the kids that comes to my surgery: advocating on her behalf.' When social services came knocking, the family were terrified. 'We'd had a big, big fear of the state. Black families in the neighbourhood lived in fear of the police, a little bit of schools, too. There was a fear that things could happen you couldn't control and that would not be fair. So, yeah, there were moments that we found scary. It's what you perceive.' His father died in the US, 'a pauper', from throat cancer in 2003. Lammy says it was a horrible death. He received news that it was imminent, but chose not to go. 'I was a young minister and I just decided I couldn't emotionally handle seeing my father all these years later, dying desperately in this way. I did subsequently go to his grave. I gave him a headstone. And there was no sense of bitterness. Quite the opposite. I don't bear grudges, it's just not me.' I ask if all this makes loving his dad – the memory of his dad – more complicated. He thinks about this and says no. 'I'm quite a forgiving person, my nature is wanting to build bridges, to reach out. It's why I think I'm actually not bad at this role.' In fact, it's more than 'not bad': 'This is the first time in my life where I do not have impostor syndrome. I genuinely have a sense of being in the right place at the right time for this job.' He seems extroverted to me, but insists he's shy and gauche. He credits Green with helping him 'put on my armour on to walk out of the house and into public life every day'. They met 20 years ago at a singles party thrown by the former MP Oona King. 'Nicola had no idea who I was,' he says. 'I liked that she didn't know that I was in public life, didn't ask me what I did.' He fell for her quickly: 'I think she found it all a bit intense.' A few months later, he took her on holiday to the Caribbean, 'via Haiti, because I was on the board of Action Aid at the time and it had experienced a horrendous disaster. It was gruelling and not really what you do with a date. But she said she saw a window of my life. We were married within a year.' The couple have three children, two boys and an adopted daughter. There's adoption in both families, Lammy says: his own mother and his wife's grandmother. 'There are kids that need a loving home. We talked about it and decided we would embark on this journey. It's been one of the most rewarding things I've done, by some stretch. For my boys as well. I had a tough start, but not as tough as starting off with parents who can't take care of you.' At home he says they talk about art. I am not sure I believe him. Green is 'more political than he is' according to friends. But he likes theatre and film – 'loved Sinners'– and his adviser confirms the only time they can't reach him is when he's in the cinema. Once every five weeks the family visits Chevening, the grace-and-favour country house, and he tears through the extensive overgrown woodland as a form of relaxation. 'A good two- or three-hour walk is my idea of a great weekend afternoon.' Otherwise, he keeps fit with a former para called Alex twice a week. We've arrived in Peterborough and been driven to a country church where he will make a speech. A small crowd of protesters greet us with placards splodged with red paint. They are shouting about genocide, war crimes, children orphaned. Lammy's composure looks shaken. I'm asking about his cherubic choirboy days at the local King's School. His voice broke aged 13, he says, but he joins the parliamentary choir at Christmas 'because I know all the old tunes. Singing is therapy. But if I can't practise, I'm not going to sing.' You don't have to be perfect, I tease. As the shouts grow louder, he looks suddenly cross. He points his finger accusatorially. 'I can see what you're doing, needling away at me.' Later, he admits he's tired. Running on empty: 'But still running.' He's hoping to get away on holiday this month. 'It will be quite enough to absolutely do nothing.' Maybe he will allow himself a glass of rosé. 'I'll have more than a glass – a bottle. Several!'
Daily Mail
a day ago
- Daily Mail
Loyal Afghan commando who helped recover British hero's body is tortured amid mounting Taliban revenge attacks after UK data breach disaster - as top MOD figure prepares to quit
An Afghan hero who risked enemy fire carrying the body of a British special forces soldier down a mountain alongside the now-Veterans Minister Al Carns has been attacked and tortured while fleeing from the Taliban. It comes amid further horrific executions this week of Afghans who worked with British forces, as the 'revenge of the Taliban' steps up pace since it was revealed the Government had lost a database and put 100,000 people 'at risk of death'. Ministers obtained a super-injunction to hush-up the blunder for two years. Ahmad was an Afghan soldier who worked with the SAS and SBS. He is in hiding in Iran where he and his family fled from Taliban revenge squads. He faces deportation back to Afghanistan where, he says, 'certain punishment, likely execution' awaits. Yet in the past few days, while waiting to hear if he can relocate to safety in the UK as a reward for his loyalty fighting with British forces, he has been tortured by thugs linked to the Taliban who broke and cut the fingers on his right hand. The Daily Mail has seen gruesome photos, which are too shocking to publish, of Ahmad's injuries. The 34-year-old married father served with Afghan commandos 'the Triples' – who were trained and paid by UK forces - for nearly a decade. He was part of a brave detachment of British and Afghan special forces who stormed the Intercontinental Hotel in Kabul and helped free Western hostages in 2018. And in 2013, Ahmad was on an operation with UK Special Forces in which two members of the elite British commandos the SBS were shot. He helped carry the body of one of them down a mountain, determined to ensure he was returned to his family. Alongside him was Al Carns, their commanding officer at the time, one of Britain's most distinguished special forces soldiers - and who is now an MP and the Veterans' Minister. The commanding officer that night was Al Carns, one of Britain's most distinguished special forces soldiers and who is now an MP and the Veterans' Minister. Ahmad, which is not his real name, said: 'My life and that of my family are in great danger. I would appeal to the minister to help me, he knows what happened, and of our bravery beside the British – because of that work, I will never be safe. 'My work for Britain and for Afghanistan makes me a top target for the Taliban, they have been looking for me. Nowhere is safe. The leak of data makes it more dangerous.' Meanwhile there have been at least two murders. The families of both men killed – one an officer with the Afghan special forces, the other an intelligence officer – have been ordered by the warlords in charge of the country not to discuss their assassinations. But friends said they had been waiting to hear if they could move to the UK, under the ARAP scheme which was set up to reward those who had worked alongside British forces. The first victim, Bashir, was a 38-year-old officer with the Triples. As he walked near his home, he was followed by three gunmen in a car. One gunman climbed from the car and shot him several times at point blank range, witnessed, friends said, by his terrified wife and two young children. The second victim, Abdul, was a former intelligence officer with the National Directorate of Security (NDS) which worked closely with MI6, diplomats and UK forces. Earlier this week, he was shot dead and his body handed over to his family. It showed fresh signs of torture, friends said. It is not confirmed whether the details of the men and their families were among the 100,000 'at risk of death' impacted by the data breach that was discovered by the Daily Mail in August 2023. The newspaper was prevented from revealing the data disaster by the Government's unprecedented super-injunction which was lifted in mid-July after the Mail fought a two-year battle for justice in secret courts. Today the MOD said: 'The independent Rimmer Review concluded that it is highly unlikely that merely being on the spreadsheet means an individual is more likely to be targeted, and this is the basis on which the court lifted its super injunction.' Taliban assassins are said to have carried out dozens of killings, including the executions of at least four former members of the Afghan military deported from Iran in one brutal operation. One Afghan, who worked for Britain and is still in hiding, suggested between 50-60 had been killed in July. Meanwhile Aftab, who worked for six years for the UK, said a colleague had been arrested at an internet café – where Afghan go to check the UK government's website about their cases. Aftab, 28, said: 'It is a disgrace that we were not told of the data leak when the government of the UK found out two years ago. It has left us terrified, and watching the number of killings rise while wondering if we will be next. I have moved home twice in a week.' Aftab said he believed it was 'only a matter of time' until he was found by the Taliban. He said: 'At best I will be beaten and tortured by the Taliban…they are monsters. At worst I will be killed.' Amid the fallout from the data leak and the Government's super-injunction scandal, the Ministry of Defence's top civil servant will stand down later this year. The Permanent Secretary David Williams (who is no relation to the author of this article) told staff at the department that he will quit in autumn. Tan Dhesi, chairman of the House of Commons' Defence Committee, said: 'David Williams' many years of dedicated public service deserve respect. It's not yet clear whether his decision to step down is linked to the recently revealed Afghan data breach. However, what is clear is that this grave failure of data protection demands proper scrutiny, which the Defence Committee certainly intends to provide. 'The fact that this breach has put at risk our courageous British service personnel and the Afghans who bravely supported them, makes the situation even more shocking. I am sure the committee will want to investigate and understand how this could have been allowed to happen.' When he announced the data breach to Parliament, Defence Secretary John Healey told MPs his 'first concern has been to notify as many people as possible who are affected by the data incident and to provide them with further advice'. He said the MOD had a new dedicated website offering security advice. The MoD said: 'Permanent secretary David Williams will step down this autumn and the recruitment process for his successor is under way. 'Since 2021, David has led the department through a period of significant activity, and we thank him for his contribution.' The covert airlift of thousands of Afghans – codenamed Operation Rubific – was launched after the UK military catastrophically lost a database of details of those who had applied for sanctuary in the UK to flee the murderous put 100,000 'at risk of death', in the Government's own words. It also exposed British officials, special forces and MI6 spies whose details were on the list. The Ministry of Defence's top civil servant, permanent secretary David Williams (no relation to the author of this article), is to step down from his post in the autumn The confidential database that the British government lost, putting '100,000 people at risk of death' and triggering the evacuations mission Operation Rubific How ministers signed up to a £7billion scheme to relocate Afghans to the UK, without asking or telling taxpayers or MPs. The MOD says the figure has since been revised to around £6billion After the Mail was the first newspaper in the world to discover the data breach, in August 2023, the Ministry of Defence mounted a cover-up and successfully hushed up our exclusive. They obtained a super-injunction and, cloaked by the unprecedented news blackout, ministers have been clandestinely running one of the biggest peacetime evacuation missions in modern British history to rescue people the UK had imperilled – smuggling thousands out of Afghanistan and flying them to Britain at vast cost, with taxpayers being neither asked nor informed. The Daily Mail revealed how the projected £7billion cost was signed off while taxpayers and MPs were kept in the dark.
