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Heidi Mogstad (2026). Restraint in war: Why Norwegian soldiers have not been accused of war crimes in Afghanistan. Bergen: Chr. Michelsen Institute (CMI Insight 2026:1)

The US-led war in Afghanistan is now widely regarded as a failure, and several NATO forces have been implicated in serious atrocities and war crimes. This Insight Paper asks why Norwegian soldiers appear to have exercised greater restraint than many of their allies, and what lessons might be relevant should Norway face an armed conflict closer to home.

Introduction

In late 2025, former members of the UK Special Forces broke years of silence to speak to the BBC about alleged war crimes committed by comrades in Afghanistan. Their eyewitness accounts described British soldiers killing unarmed people as they slept and executing handcuffed detainees, including children. Veterans portrayed some units as driven by a 'mob mentality', engaging in 'barbaric' behaviour and operating as if they were 'lawless'. These revelations were not isolated incidents, but part of a broader pattern of allegations directed at several of Norway’s military partners during the twenty-year intervention in Afghanistan. While Norway’s close cooperation with these allies may point to some degree of complicity, it is striking that Norwegian troops have not been accused of documented abuses or war crimes, but rather appear to have stood out for their restrained use of force. Available information suggests that they generally exercised discipline and restraint in combat, and military scholars and leaders have described Norwegian soldiers in Afghanistan as notably less 'trigger-happy' than many allied troops.

This reported restraint is also striking when viewed in a longer historical perspective. In earlier deployments, Norwegian soldiers were involved in several questionable incidents resulting in civilian deaths in both Kosovo and Somalia. Moreover, Norwegian UN soldiers were accused of serious abuses against the civilian population in Congo.

'If Norwegian soldiers in Afghanistan truly behaved more cautiously than both many of their allies and Norwegian forces in previous missions, what might account for this difference?'

Following calls to analyse 'positive cases' of military restraint, this paper takes the absence of documented abuses and war crimes as an analytical point of departure. Drawing on in-depth interviews with twenty-eight Norwegian Afghanistan veterans, as well as conversations with military leaders, scholars, and instructors, it considers several factors that might help to explain this absence, including selection and training, attitudes to violence and enemy combatants, cultural and institutional practices, and broader societal influences. It concludes by reflecting on how these dynamics might change if Norway were to face an armed conflict on or near Norwegian territory. 

Selection and pre-deployment training

The first possible explanation for Norwegian soldiers’ display of restraint concerns the careful recruitment and pre-deployment training of soldiers sent to Afghanistan. A starting point is Norway’s system of conscription, which is constitutionally embedded and grounded in the idea of a 'people’s army'. Partly for this reason, but also because of Norway’s generous welfare system, free public education, and high level of social mobility, the military is not typically seen or framed as a pathway to socio-economic mobility, as it is in many other countries. Instead, Norwegian soldiers come from all walks of life, usually have completed upper secondary school, with many holding higher education, and those who stay tend to be motivated by a military career.

While education and motivation for service do not automatically make soldiers ethical and disciplined, these factors were highlighted by both soldiers and military educators as shaping the conduct of Norwegian troops in Afghanistan. Perhaps more importantly, however, Norway’s contribution took place in the context of a broader shift from traditional territorial defence and mass conscription towards an increasingly compact and professionalised army focused on international operations. This affected the recruitment of soldiers to Afghanistan, as the Norwegian Army could be more selective than in earlier periods, recruiting only those who had demonstrated 'appropriate' attitudes, values, and leadership, alongside strong cognitive, physical and soldierly skills.

Compared to, for example, the limited preparation of earlier peacekeeping missions in Lebanon, Norwegian soldiers were also extensively prepared for the possibility of participating in combat in Afghanistan. Counterinsurgency battlefields like Afghanistan are seen as morally challenging terrains because of the blurred boundaries between combatants and civilians. To prepare for this, interviewees described how training went beyond familiarity with their mission’s Rules of Engagement (ROE) and involved exposing soldiers to ethical dilemmas and encouraging value-based decision-making.

This combination of careful recruitment and preparation is compelling. However, it should not lead us to assume that disciplined and well-trained soldiers do not abuse power or commit war crimes, as other cases clearly demonstrate that this is not the case.

Regarding Norway’s allied forces accused of crimes in Afghanistan, there is also little indication that they were poorly trained or unprepared for their missions. Nevertheless, investigations have documented unit cultures within the British, American and Australian forces that linked soldierly violence to status or initiation rites, involved the collection of body parts as trophies, and measured success in terms of 'body count' or 'kill count'. An official inquiry into Australian war crimes further demonstrated how the ROE for Afghanistan were expansively interpreted and instrumentalised to justify killings.

This invites a closer examination of the military culture of the Norwegian Army and, in particular, soldiers’ attitudes towards violence and 'the enemy'.

Attitudes to violence

It is important to highlight that Norwegian soldiers express normative attitudes to war and violence that differ significantly from dominant civilian moralities in Norway. In their view, warfare and violence are not necessarily wrong or pathological, but can be natural, legitimate, and at times useful. Aggressiveness was frequently highlighted as an important and valuable trait by both military instructors and soldiers, who emphasised that they were neither humanitarian workers nor 'choir boys', but professional soldiers or 'warriors'. Moreover, many described being excited about the opportunity to test their weapons and soldierly skills in combat.

'Rather, interviewees expressed a reflective, instrumental, and largely cautious attitude to violence that may help to explain the absence of documented abuse and war crimes among Norwegian forces.'

This, however, does not mean that Norwegian soldiers romanticised violence or behaved unethically and recklessly in Afghanistan. Rather, interviewees expressed a reflective, instrumental, and largely cautious attitude to violence that may help to explain the absence of documented abuse and war crimes among Norwegian forces. Soldiers across ranks and units described themselves as guardians of the state’s monopoly on legitimate violence and underscored that this was a serious responsibility. Violence could be both useful and right, but only under specific conditions – namely when it was both legal and operationally justified, for example to protect themselves or their comrades, or when it contributed to achieving mission objectives.

While many interviewees acknowledged being motivated to experience combat, they also drew clear moral boundaries between themselves and what they described as 'trigger-happy soldiers' of other nations, notably 'the Americans' and 'the Brits'. What they really wanted to test, several explained, was whether they 'had what it takes to be professional soldiers' – something that involved keeping a cool head under pressure and making sound and effective decisions. None wanted to acquire a reputation as 'loose cannons' within their units.

In reflecting on restraint, soldiers not only contrasted themselves with allied forces but also with earlier Norwegian missions, for example, in Lebanon, where older interviewees recalled cautionary stories of accidental discharges and alcohol abuse. Following rules and orders were framed as essential for their career prospects and personal identity as professional soldiers, but also for inter-group trust and safety.

Notably, interviewees also emphasised the importance of being able to 'look themselves in the mirror' upon returning to Norway. Several described having learned to ask themselves three questions before deciding whether to use lethal force: (1) Is it legal? (2) Is it wise? and (3) Will I be able to live with it afterwards? Some had also developed a 'personal ethical code' alongside the mandate-specific ROE and the Norwegian Army’s official values and code of conduct.

Although the language of a 'personal ethical code' suggests individual moral judgment, soldiers’ ethics are better understood as a socially and culturally embedded process. Soldierly ethics are learned and negotiated collectively through socialisation and the cultivation of shared norms, rather than through individual moral reasoning alone. A particularly important dimension of this process concerns soldiers’ attitudes towards – and treatment of – enemy combatants.

Relationship to 'the enemy'

There is a widespread perception that soldiers must dehumanise the enemy in order to be capable of killing other human beings. Problematically, however, language and discourses that dehumanise the race, ethnicity, or culture of the enemy are not only harmful in themselves, but have, in many conflicts, incited and justified abuse and war crimes.

In military contexts, the idea that killing depends on dehumanisation is closely associated with Grossman’s influential book On Killing (1996), which has had a profound impact on the US Army. Grossman’s work has also travelled across the Atlantic and influenced Norwegian military thinking to the extent that some soldiers explicitly referred to his book or theory in our interviews. However, Chief Sergeant Rune Wenneberg explained that the Norwegian Army had re-evaluated Grossman’s thesis and rejected dehumanisation as a pedagogical strategy. He described dehumanisation as a 'simplified tool' that not only conflicted with the military’s official values and commitment to respecting the human dignity of all parties to the conflict, but which experience has also shown to be unnecessary for preparing soldiers to kill enemy combatants in battle.

Interviewees with leadership experience emphasised that combat carries a risk of desensitisation, which must be actively countered through cultural and ethical practices. As an example, former squad leaders and platoon commanders said they deliberately avoided fostering a culture of 'kill counts', neither celebrating nor emphasising the number of enemy fighters killed in combat. They also described clear regulations governing the treatment of injured and dead enemy bodies, ensuring that both were treated in the same manner as Norwegian soldiers. While such practices could be interpreted as expressions of care and compassion toward the enemy, interviewees framed them as acts of moral self-protection. As one put it bluntly: 'We do this mainly to protect our own humanity.'
 
While scholars have observed how racist and colonial tropes – such as
the figure of the 'brute Afghan warrior' – persist in US military manuals, Norwegian officers described conscious efforts to foster a more restrained and respectful language. Several noted that they did not tolerate soldiers using nicknames or derogatory terms to describe Afghan insurgents or civilians – a practice they knew to be common among some allied forces. Instead, they sought to promote a culture of respect towards the enemy – often referred to in neutral terms as 'the opponent' (motstanderen).

Of course, official norms and leadership philosophies do not automatically translate into everyday language and practice. However, in both interviews, memoirs, and podcast appearances, Afghanistan veterans repeatedly spoke of Taliban fighters with a high degree of respect for their warrior skills and bravery, and for fighting for what they believed in. Many interviewees also articulated a strong sense of empathy towards their 'opponent' in battle. Several reflected that they could imagine themselves joining the Taliban had they grown up in rural Afghanistan under similar material and political conditions. Some even suggested that, from a Taliban perspective, Norwegian troops were 'foreign occupiers' in much the same way as Norwegians had viewed German forces during the Second World War.

'Some even suggested that, from a Taliban perspective, Norwegian troops were ‘foreign occupiers’ in much the same way as Norwegians had viewed German forces during the Second World War.'

Notably, interviewees used less respectful language at times. For example, describing Afghan culture as 'backwards' or as 'belonging to the Stone Age'. These expressions often reflected their critical attitudes towards how women were treated, yet they are rooted in orientalist and Eurocentric assumptions about history, progress, and modernity. Like Waaler, I also observed that soldiers employed a technical and sanitising vocabulary when speaking about killing, using expressions such as 'take out' or 'eliminate'. Such language may foster moral disengagement, but it is less inflammatory than language that explicitly dehumanises the enemy.

It is further important to recognise that
empathic identification with enemy soldiers is not necessarily motivated by benevolence, as soldiers are often trained to empathise with the enemy in order to anticipate their actions or defeat them. Nevertheless, I suggest that the extent, consistency, and moral framing of empathy and respect – towards both enemy fighters and cultural differences, documented in my interviews, may help explain why Norwegian soldiers appear to have behaved with relative restraint.

Cultural and institutional practices

To be sure, there were also clear limits to soldiers’ empathy. Several interviewees described moments when they had not been able to think or speak of the Taliban with distance or respect – particularly in the aftermath of Norwegian casualties. In these situations, soldiers’ ethical norms and professionalism were put to a severe test. Wenneberg recounted how, after a young soldier was killed in an IED attack in 2010, the soldiers under his command expressed a strong desire for revenge. He also admitted that he himself had 'felt his blood boil'. Yet, collectively, they managed to calm each other down and agreed that the best way to honour their fallen comrade was to 'behave as professional soldiers' and act in accordance with their values by adhering strictly to their mandate and the ROE. Wenneberg described the subsequent mission as 'an ethical exam on the battlefield', adding that he had never been prouder of his team than when they succeeded in subduing their anger and desire for retaliation.

This episode illustrates a central feature of Norwegian military culture: the institutionalised practice of in-depth debriefs following difficult operations and critical incidents. As Danielsen documents in her ethnographic study of the Naval Special Operations Command, the Norwegian Armed Forces have developed a culture of systematic technical, tactical, and emotional debriefs designed to help soldiers build a shared understanding of events and learn from them. The emotional component of these sessions explicitly encourages soldiers to share their feelings, with the aim of identifying and defusing tensions and enabling both individual and collective processing of potentially destabilising experiences.

While such debriefs in theatre appear crucial, it is also important to note that Norwegian homecoming support and veteran care have improved significantly over recent decades. Compared to many allied forces, Norway also deployed soldiers on relatively short missions (typically three to six months), required regular breaks (often two weeks every three months), and enforced extended periods at home between deployments. Interviewees highlighted these arrangements as important not only for reducing cumulative stress and preventing burnout but also for limiting groupthink, in-group biases, and selective moral disengagement.

Restraint in the use of violence and respect for human life were further reinforced through war medals. While gallantry is acknowledged, the most prestigious Norwegian decorations did not prioritise individual acts of extreme risk-taking or self-sacrifice, as is common in countries such as the US and the UK. Instead, Norwegian awards placed greater emphasis on leadership qualities such as situational understanding, foresight, sound judgment, and performance that enhanced Norway’s reputation among allies. Moreover, the citations often specified that the use of force was necessary or undertaken in self-defence, or that the recipient’s leadership helped minimise loss of life.

Broader societal influences

Beyond the military’s internal culture, broader societal and cultural factors may also have shaped Norwegian soldiers’ conduct in Afghanistan. Indeed, analyses that focus narrowly on military dynamics risk treating military culture as static and self-contained. Conversely, research shows how racism within military units often represents an intensified version of prejudices present in the surrounding society, and that war crimes reflect societal norms, policies and the broader cultural veneration of the armed forces.

It is important to avoid Norwegian exceptionalism here. Racism and Islamophobia undoubtedly exist in Norway as well, a country that has developed some of the strictest immigration policies in Europe. Norway’s self-image as a nation of peace and diplomacy is furthermore best understood as a political brand rather than an empirical description. Nevertheless, the broader cultural valuation of restraint and non-violence – expressed in public discourse, popular culture, and attitudes to policing, among other things – may shape soldiers’ attitudes towards the use of force in warzones.

Another potential influence is political discourse, as leading Norwegian politicians and commentators did not use the racialised language of the war on terror that cast civilian populations as threatening, disposable, and ungrievable. While Norway remained a firm—and largely uncritical—ally of the United States throughout the Afghanistan mission, political leaders also refrained from fully embracing the American 'us versus them' narrative, instead emphasising how Norway should help Afghanistan and the Afghan population.

Since soldiers’ attitudes are shaped not only by military institutions but also by the societies in which they are raised and continue to live, these broader cultural and political dynamics may have contributed to Norwegian soldiers’ comparatively restrained conduct in Afghanistan.

Conclusion

In this Insight paper, I have explored why Norwegian forces appear to have exercised relative restraint and, at the time of writing, have not been accused of documented abuse or war crimes during their twenty-year-mission in Afghanistan. While it is inherently challenging to explain actions or events that have not occurred, I have identified a set of interrelated factors that may be significant. These include careful selection and training; a restrictive and instrumental relationship to violence; respect and empathy with Taliban fighters; cultural and institutional practices such as collective debriefings, veteran care, and systems of recognition; as well as broader societal influences within Norwegian society. Taken together, these factors may help explain how Norwegian soldiers in Afghanistan combined combat readiness – and even excitement – with restraint.

As noted above, focusing on such 'positive cases' may provide valuable insight. For Norway and the Norwegian Army, it highlights some of what was done well during a mission that is today widely recognised as a political and strategic failure. Since several of the identified factors are tied to organisational practices and norms that were actively and deliberately fostered within the military institution and individual units, the analysis also points to lessons with relevance beyond the Norwegian case. At the same time, it is important to recognise that most of these factors are deeply contextual. They are closely tied to the particular characteristics of Norway’s military engagement in Afghanistan: a small, professional expeditionary force operating in a distant war in which Norwegian troops and their allies enjoyed military superiority and generally operated under controlled circumstances. Under these conditions, Norway could recruit and train its soldiers selectively, 'pick from the top shelf' amongst a pool of largely motivated personnel, limit deployments and rotations, and invest substantial resources in veteran care.

The broader picture that must be recognised is that Norway itself was not under immediate military threat. For the soldiers I interviewed, Afghanistan was not experienced as an existential war in which the future of their country or the safety of their families was at stake, but rather as a 'war of choice' that enabled Norway to perform as a 'good ally' while offering individual soldiers an opportunity to test or develop their professional skills.

'The ongoing war in Ukraine is a stark reminder that this context can change.'

The ongoing war in Ukraine is a stark reminder that this context can change. Several interviewees emphasised that, were Norway to be attacked or drawn into a conflict closer to home, the Armed Forces would operate under very different conditions. Recruitment would be less selective, training and recuperation more limited, and mobilisation more rapid and large-scale, with less consideration to soldiers’ robustness, will and freedom. Soldiers might thus be less thoroughly prepared while simultaneously being expected to take significantly greater personal risks – perhaps even treated as expendable.

In such a scenario, soldiers’ motivations and emotional landscapes would also be fundamentally different. An existential conflict in which soldiers’ homes and families were directly threatened could foster far stronger emotional investment, alongside heightened suspicion and animosity toward enemy combatants. Under these circumstances, the balance between professional values and restraint, emotional control, and the pressures of war would become far more difficult to sustain. While some lessons can be drawn, this analysis therefore suggests that the relative restraint and reflective attitudes toward violence and the enemy observed among Norwegian forces should be understood as historically and contextually contingent, rather than as inherent or guaranteed features of Norwegian military conduct. My interviews indicate that Norwegian military leaders are acutely aware of this – and so, too, should the rest of Norwegian society be.

This Insight is written as part of the research project War and Fun: Reconceptualizing Warfare and Its Experience (WARFUN) funded by the European Research Council.