Zitat:Francois:

I should begin by declaring an interest—as consistently being one of the greatest critics of the Ajax programme in the House of Commons for around a decade. Indeed, being very much an Ajax sceptic, I once described it to the Defence Committee as a reconnaissance vehicle that is “about as stealthy as a Ford Transit van full of spanners!”.

My real epiphany, however, came when I visited the Ajax factory with that Committee in March 2022, when even the shop floor staff, for whom I had much sympathy in this situation—it was not their fault—were telling us that the vehicle was deeply flawed.

Anderson:

I do not want to steal my right hon. Friend’s thunder, but when we were on that visit, I was absolutely shocked that the team building Ajax said that no two hulls had ever left the factory that were the same. They were all slightly different, and that was a flaw in the whole building project.

Francois:

I have with me the actual minute of the Committee’s 2022 visit, which confirms exactly what my hon. Friend said.

Ajax’s genesis goes back several decades, under Governments of multiple colours. It effectively began life in the 1980s under the Conservatives as an Anglo-American reconnaissance vehicle programme called TRACER—the tactical reconnaissance armoured combat equipment requirement. Eventually that programme broke down, and the United States continued to develop the Bradley family unilaterally. Back in Britain, under Tony Blair’s Labour Government, the programme evolved into the future rapid effect system—FRES—which itself ran into considerable trouble. As the Defence Committee report of February 2007—I have it here—brutally concluded: “This is a sorry story of indecision, constantly changing requirements and delay...It is high time the MoD decided where its priorities lay.”

That was 19 years ago.

Following much criticism, FRES was abandoned and eventually re-emerged as the Ajax family of armoured vehicles, with six variants. In March 2010, during the dying months of the Brown Government, the decision was taken to meet the requirement by purchasing the vehicle known as ASCOD, which was also being procured by the Spanish army, in Spain, from US contractor General Dynamics. Crucially, this was originally intended to be an off-the-shelf procurement, with minimal design modification, to enter service in 2017.

The coalition Government, at the Cardiff NATO summit in 2014, announced that Ajax would be manufactured in Merthyr Tydfil, using hulls imported from Spain. In short, Labour originally ordered Ajax, but the Conservatives and the Liberal Democrats decided where it would be built. Unusually, this was to encompass both a development and production contract running simultaneously. Moreover, an early decision was taken to up-gun Ajax from a 30 mm to a 40 mm weapon, involving a major redesign of the turret. In all, the Army eventually insisted on an incredible 1,200 additional requirements, totally contrary to the off-the-shelf principle.

Concerns regarding vibration and noise-related injuries to crews were first flagged by the Defence Science and Technology Laboratory as far back as 2014, but it was not until November 2020—six years later—that Ministers were first informed that trials had been suspended over safety concerns. Defence Equipment and Support, after much internal angst, then issued a formal stop notice in June 2021. Ajax trials were eventually restarted in 2022, but not before the programme had been subject to trenchant criticism from the Defence Committee, the Infrastructure and Projects Authority, the National Audit Office—which famously concluded that Ajax was “flawed from the start”—and the Public Accounts Committee to boot.

In 2022, Defence Secretary Ben Wallace, rightfully exasperated by the endless delays and the quality of advice being given to Ministers, commissioned the wholly independent Clive Sheldon KC to undertake a detailed review of Ajax. Sheldon’s 172-page review—I have it here—was excoriating. To summarise it in one sentence, it painted a picture of a completely dysfunctional UK procurement system, in which serious concerns articulated at junior level were routinely ignored or explained away by senior managers. Nevertheless, the Army began preparing to bring Ajax into operational service.

On 5 November last year, the Minister for Defence Readiness and Industry headed up a major media event at General Dynamics’ Ajax production facility in Merthyr Tydfil to declare that Ajax had successfully achieved “Initial Operating Capability”. Given the controversial history of the programme, the Minister—who cannot be here today, but who is no fool—did exactly what I would have done, which was to ask for written assurances that the programme was safe, including from the Chief of the General Staff and the National Armaments Director. One key question, incidentally, is: who told both of them that it was safe?

Armed with letters from both of those very senior gentlemen confirming that Ajax was indeed ready to enter service safely, the Minister went ahead—we believe in good faith—and declared to the media that Ajax is “a vehicle that is safe, effective and truly cutting-edge.”

I can therefore only imagine his horror when, on 22 November, a major regimental exercise on Salisbury plain to test Ajax’s battle-worthiness—involving two squadrons of Ajax vehicles, along with command and support variants, some 60 vehicles in all—had to be rapidly abandoned after 23 crew members reported serious vibration and noise-related injuries. Subsequently, the Minister even halted trials on individual Ajax test vehicles, after further injuries to test crews were discovered.

The response of GD UK, in the form of Mr Robert Skivington, one of its then managers, was—disgustingly—to blame the Army’s crews and their commanders in an expletive-ridden social media post. In my sorry, decade-long experience of General Dynamics, that just about sums up their management—not their workers. Moreover, I had a chance encounter with the Ajax senior responsible owner, Mr Chris Bowbrick, at the Defence and Security Equipment International exhibition last September, during which he categorically assured me that Ajax was now safe—and he even shook my hand on it. If the Minister feels angry that he was misinformed, I feel exactly the same way.

Everyone agrees we simply cannot go on with this endless stop-start cycle regarding Ajax, not least as it represents the Army’s largest procurement programme at £5.5 billion for acquisition, or £6.3 billion including life-cycle costs. It is also the Army’s biggest chunk of the long-delayed defence investment plan. In short, as safety is paramount, Ministers now have one of two stark options over Ajax: either they must fix it or fail it once and for all. Let us look at both.

Ajax has always been too big to fail. Many senior generals, senior civil servants and GD directors have their careers effectively invested in the programme. Indeed, Sheldon relates in some detail the reluctance over a long period of DE&S senior management to even admit that there were serious failings with the vehicle. I am not a qualified engineer, so I cannot pronounce on whether the problem is fixable. Some analysts argue that the vehicle is now so heavy—at up to 43 tonnes it is just two tonnes lighter than a world war two Panther main battle tank—and flawed that it cannot be saved, short of a fundamental redesign which would cost billions of pounds.

However, if this really can be sorted by technical means, then conceptually we surely need a deep fix which effectively puts the problems to bed definitively. If that can somehow be achieved at GD’s expense, then all well and good. Nevertheless, the risk is that the MOD and GD merely tweak the vehicle yet again and then rerun that exercise—perhaps six months from now—with almost exactly the same outcome. In that context, I would humbly remind the Minister of Einstein’s definition of madness, which is doing the same thing over and over again and somehow expecting a different result.

Conversely, if it emerges that Ajax is somehow fundamentally flawed and cannot be fixed, then the other option is to end the cycle of denial, rip off the plaster and fail it. That would then involve the Ministry of Defence in potentially tortuous negotiations with General Dynamics, in essence, to get its money back so that it could spend it on something else, such as the BAE CV90, which now successfully serves in many NATO countries—and which lost out to Ajax in the first place. If GD was not willing to accept liability, although many think it should, the MOD would probably have no recourse other than to sue it for liquidated damages for delivering a vehicle that was demonstrably not fit for purpose. To conclude, that could involve the Department in a highly aggressive court case potentially lasting years, but which would no doubt also be highly injurious to the reputation of General Dynamics as a global defence manufacturer. This cannot go on; Ministers must fix it or fail it once and for all.

Zitat:In that context, I would humbly remind the Minister of Einstein’s definition of madness, which is doing the same thing over and over again and somehow expecting a different result.