The photograph, taken in 2007, shows a British Muslim soldier standing alongside Afghan civilians – a snapshot of a complex reality. Now, years later, that soldier, Kayam Iqbal, a veteran of both Iraq and Afghanistan, finds himself responding to jarring claims made across the Atlantic.
“It’s shocking, but frankly, I’m past being surprised by what comes out of Donald Trump’s mouth,” Kayam stated, his voice laced with a weary disbelief. “The world is adjusting to a constant stream of…nonsense. But this one hit differently. He wasn’t there. He simply doesn’t know.”
The weight of those words resonated deeply, particularly for those who lost loved ones in the conflict. Kayam imagined the pain, the feeling of being disregarded, a kick in the teeth for those who sacrificed everything. His initial reaction was disbelief, a desperate hope that the reports were untrue.
But observing Trump’s recent actions and rhetoric, from Venezuela to Greenland, Kayam recognized a pattern. He believes Trump is constructing a narrative, one designed to elevate the United States and foster dependence, suggesting the world cannot defend itself without American leadership.
Kayam’s own experience contradicts this narrative. He recalls the US arriving “steps behind” NATO in Afghanistan, mirroring their late entry into World War II. British troops, particularly their intelligence gathering capabilities, were vital to the American effort, operating on the front lines in Afghan villages.
The scars of war run deep. Kayam lives with PTSD, a constant companion from his tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. He acknowledges the struggle is ongoing, a battle that will never truly end, and extends his empathy to frontline emergency workers – police, nurses, and firefighters – who face similar invisible wounds.
He founded The OppO Foundation to support returning soldiers, recognizing the difficulty many have in openly discussing their mental health. This struggle is compounded within the Muslim community, where a culture of “bravado and a masquerade of being strong” often silences those in need.
Kayam remembers a time when his community proudly supported his decision to join the British Army in 1999. But the events of 9/11 and the subsequent invasion of Iraq irrevocably altered that landscape, not just for him as a Muslim soldier, but for everyone he grew up with.
He emphasizes the power of simply talking, of breaking the silence that perpetuates suffering. Yet, he expresses concern over the response – or lack thereof – from political leaders, particularly Prime Minister Keir Starmer, who are seemingly hesitant to challenge Trump for fear of jeopardizing crucial negotiations.
Armed Forces minister Al Carns, a veteran of five tours in Afghanistan, vehemently refuted the claims, stating they were “utterly ridiculous.” He spoke of the shared sacrifices, the “blood, sweat and tears” shed alongside American comrades, and the unbreakable bonds forged in the crucible of war.
“These are bonds forged in fire, protecting our shared interests, but actually protecting democracy overall,” Carns asserted. He extended a poignant invitation: “Come have a whisky with me, my colleagues, their families, and importantly, the families of those that have made the ultimate sacrifice.”
Defence Secretary John Healey underscored the gravity of the situation, reminding everyone that NATO’s collective defense clause, Article 5, has been invoked only once, and that British troops answered the call. Over 450 British personnel lost their lives in Afghanistan, their heroism deserving of remembrance.
A spokesperson for the Prime Minister unequivocally stated that Trump was “wrong” to suggest NATO forces avoided the front lines, reaffirming the nation’s immense pride in its armed forces and their enduring sacrifice, a sacrifice that will never be forgotten.
