SAS Rogue Heroes

We, or rather I, am addicted SAS Rogue Heroes and have read extensive biographies of David stirling and Paddy Mayne. Was Mayne a psychopath? Opinions differ, but he's certainly portrayed as such in the TV series, probably for dramatic effect. Today's SAS tries to weed out blatant psychopaths, but functioning psychopaths are a different matter and can pass tests.

There is something oddly galling about the cognitive dissonance required to balance the legend of the SAS with the grim allegations now staining their reputation. The regiment that has long been romanticised as a bastion of British grit and military precision finds itself accused of something far darker. Not the noble, shadowy heroes of the desert war in North Africa, but agents of brutality in Afghanistan – a shift in narrative as stark as it is uncomfortable.

In a peculiar twist, along comes the BBC’s “SAS: Rogue Heroes” – a show that openly declares itself as not being a history lesson. Fair enough. The trouble is, it also doesn’t even pretend to be a nuanced take on military ethics. Instead, it’s an exercise in unrelenting bombast, a rock-and-roll ode to rebellion, complete with swaggering machismo and a soundtrack that seems more suited to a Glastonbury afterparty than a war zone. While it might make for compelling television, it inadvertently perpetuates the mythos of the SAS as a rule-breaking boys' club, doing what they must to get the job done. It's hard not to see how this might muddy the waters of public perception.

Let’s be clear: the allegations against the SAS in Afghanistan aren’t about cutting corners in the service of the greater good. They’re about potential war crimes – executions of unarmed detainees, falsifying reports, and, crucially, the systematic nature of these acts. This isn’t a rogue operator gone off the rails; the accusations point to a pattern, which makes the defence of “fog of war” ring hollow. The fog, after all, shouldn’t obscure accountability.

Yet, somehow, there remains a reluctance to critically engage with the actions of our elite forces. It’s as if to question the SAS is to question the very essence of British resolve. The phrase “Who Dares Wins” has been imbued with a near-mythological aura, but we ought to ask: who dares to investigate? Who dares to hold them to account?

The problem with turning the SAS into cultural icons is that it conflates entertainment with endorsement. Shows like “SAS: Rogue Heroes” – no matter how much they insist they’re not serious history – contribute to a dangerous simplification of complex realities. War isn’t a series of daring escapades set to rock anthems. It’s a moral quagmire where actions have lasting consequences, not just for the soldiers but for the civilians caught in their crosshairs.

In many ways, this saga is a litmus test for Britain’s willingness to confront its own mythology. We’ve seen other nations grapple with the dark chapters of their military histories – the United States with Vietnam, for instance – but Britain has a tendency to cling to its wartime narratives with a ferocious grip. The very idea that the SAS could be anything other than gallant heroes is an affront to our national self-image, which is precisely why it’s so important to address.

It’s time to dispel the notion that holding soldiers to account diminishes their service. Quite the opposite – it affirms that we hold our forces to the highest standards because we believe in the principles they’re supposed to defend. The rule of law, human rights, and moral integrity aren’t optional extras to be jettisoned in the heat of battle; they’re the very foundation of what differentiates a just cause from mere barbarism.

And yet, here we are, grappling with reports of SAS soldiers allegedly gunning down Afghans in suspicious circumstances, only for their deeds to be quietly brushed aside in the name of national security. It’s a grotesque irony that those entrusted with upholding our values might have betrayed them in such a fundamental way.

The television series may not be a history lesson, but reality demands one. Britain’s elite forces must be subject to the same scrutiny as any other institution. If the allegations are true, then they are not heroes – they are perpetrators. And no amount of gritty drama or stirring soundtracks can change that fact. In the end, the question isn’t whether the SAS were rogue heroes or just rogues. It’s whether we have the moral courage to find out.