Putting a family face to the private security industry
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Private security expert Ben Soames on a recent job in Iraq.
Ben Soames has not had a full night’s sleep in weeks. As a former Royal Marine he is used to sleep deprivation – and worse – but this time it is different. What is keeping him up all night is not the thunder of battle, but his newborn son, Pascha. Soames looks dead tired. “Without the adrenaline, it really gets to you,” he says as he rubs his swollen eyes.
Despite being visibly exhausted, Soames is clearly a happy man. Finally, at 37, he has it all: a son with the woman he loves and a well-paid job he deeply enjoys. There is one caveat, though: this job could kill him.
Soames is a security contractor and regularly works in ‘high risk hostile environments’, such as the pirate-plagued coast of Somalia. The business is booming and he is in constant demand. By 2004, this lucrative sector was already estimated to be worth around US$1.7 billion and expected to continue growing rapidly, according to a report by War on Want.
Not your average mercenary
But money was not the reason Soames left the Marines in 2003. Coming from an affluent intellectual background (his father is a publisher and his mother a music professor) he has always been living more than comfortably. He quit the military because, after Iraq, returning to the barracks had become unimaginable. Loving the thrill of combat, he wanted to continue working in conflict zones.
Having just become a father, one might expect him to rethink his line of work, perhaps move into a less life-threatening field. But Soames has no plans of quitting and is not altogether sure he even could. “I guess in a way I am a junkie. My happiest moments are when I am in the worst situations.”
His wife Rebecca, an Australian with a warm voice and steely composure, supports him fully: “We think it is a mistake to sacrifice who you are for the sake of your children.” The way she sees it, the job is part of her husband’s identity and she is not about to take that away from him.
Soft-spoken and eloquent, Soames is all well-to-do urbanite, not hardened fighter. For a commando, Soames has an unusual past. In his early twenties he graduated from the acclaimed Academy of Music and Dramatic Art and then toured the world with the Cheek By Jowl theatre company.
His anecdotes are not exactly macho, either: he played violin to his son when he was still in the womb, reads Harry Potter and does literary voice-overs for his father’s audio books. Before deploying on a mission, he usually has a ‘very expensive night at a hotel’. “I love the extremes of great living and incredible hardship. I love the commando spirit. There is something pure about it. It’s like being a dancer or an artist, almost spiritual,” he muses.
Private security firms - a potential threat to democracy?
He does not talk like a soldier – or a mercenary. Soames does not like this designation, but it is firmly associated with his line of work. Marred by moral and political controversy, the private security industry is a largely unregulated business that has produced a number of unsavoury episodes over recent years, ranging from friendly fire to human rights abuses. “Private military corporations are disastrous for democracy,” says Daniel Nelson, former professor of civil-military relations at the US Defense Department’s Marshall European Center for Security Studies. It’s a sector that thrives on conflict and violence, evoking the image of greedy, ego-tripping brutes living out their violent streak.
While Soames does not fit that formula in the least, he admits that the contrary requirements of his private and professional lives do take their toll. Snapping out of what Rebecca calls ‘Marine mode’ can be difficult for him. With the arrival of their son, this could become an even bigger issue. The slow pace of bringing up a child stands in stark contrast to the ultra-efficient environment Soames operates so well in. Patience is not one of his virtues, he admits.
But he is eager to stress that he does not want to impose his way of life on his son. “Pascha can be a tree surgeon or a flower arranger, as long as he’s happy,” he says. “This is my journey, not his.”
