If the Prime Minister Dr. Manmohan Singh has been saying it repeatedly that Naxalism is the biggest challenge to our internal security he clearly wants to underline the dangers it has been posing to India, as also the need to deal with the challenge in a most effective way.
Naxalism, which started from Naxalbari area in West Bengal in 1967, ostensibly to champion the cause of small farmers and tribals through violence, was wiped out in 1970. It soon became out of fashion in its homeland West Bengal. But the underground operations of the outfit continued. The problem became more serious after the merger of the Peoples War Group (PWG) and the Maoist Communist Centre (MCC) in September, 2004 which led to the formation of the CPI (Maoist). Naxalism today holds sway in vast swathes of 10 states in the country, involving about 180 districts.
Recently the Home Minister said in the Parliament that Naxal challenge had been underestimated over the years as a result of which left wing extremism had increased its area of influence. The Home Minster said that they now pose a very grave challenge to the state. Just days before his statement 36 policemen, including an SP, had been ambushed by the Maoists in Chhatisgarh.
It was in this backdrop Mr. Chidambaram urged the Members of Parliament to join hands in facing the challenge. “All sections of the house must recognize that if we must remain a democratic, republic ruled by law, we must collectively rise and face the challenge of left wing extremism” Shri Chidambaram said.
In its status report presented to the Parliament on March 13, 2006, the then Home Minister Mr. Shivraj Patil said that the Naxalite movement continues to persist in terms of spatial spread and intensity of violence. He pointed out that it remains an “area of serious concern”. Naxal violence has claimed about 6000 lives during the last 20 years. The question that arises is why have the Naxals been able to extend their area of influence over the years to become a serious threat to the country’s internal security?
It is encouraging to know that the government is not treating it as a mere law and order problem. The 2006 status report itself made it clear that the Government would address the problem in a holistic manner. That includes ‘political security, development and public perception management fronts’ as well. Surely, the Naxal problem is deeply rooted in the social and economic disparities in remote and tribal areas.
Since the fruits of development have not percolated to these areas, the Naxal outfits are able to exploit the sentiments of the local people. But the outfits themselves have been preventing and in fact destroying, developmental initiatives taken by the government. They destroy roads, railway infrastructure and administrative institutions that are needed for speeding up developmental activities. Not only this, they indulge in train hold-ups, jail breaks and attacks on politicians.
That is proof enough to indicate that they do not have real interest in the development of these areas and their loyalties lie elsewhere. Perhaps, they want to usurp political power which, they think, flows through the barrel of the gun.
At the same time, a lot many measures need to be taken to make the fight against Naxalism effective. On top of this is improving governance in the affected areas by moving corrupt officials who exploit the local people. It must also be ensured that large scale projects in these areas do not lead to displacement of people, who in any case, live a life of penury.
Since law and order is a state subject, the role of State Governments in dealing with the problem can hardly be overemphasized. They too have their share of responsibility to fulfil. A good deal of coordination between the Centre and the States is, therefore, called for. This is particularly true in view of the fact that the Outfits have established inter-state networks. The state police need to be modernized to be able to tackle the Naxal attacks. The Greyhounds experiment in Andhra Pradesh is a case in sight. Actionable intelligence collection and sharing mechanisms need to be strengthened. Funds provided to the States under the Police Modernization Scheme need to be better utilized.
The states also need to go fast with raising India Reserve Battalions, particularly in Naxal affected areas, which besides addressing security concerns, provide jobs to the unemployed youth.
A specially trained police force also needs to be put in place to fight the Maoists who basically are adopting guerrilla warfare techniques. There is also a difference in their targets. While other terrorist groups attack the strong foundations of the country such as democracy, secularism and the financial institutions, Maoists make India’s weak points like poverty and economic disparity as their targets. All this needs to be factored in the strategy to deal with the Maoist problem.
Keeping in view the fact that the Naxal groups have been raising mainly land and livelihood issues, it is important that land reforms are taken up on a priority basis. States have also to focus on physical infrastructure like roads, buildings, bridges, railway lines, communications and power etc. There is no room to brook any delay on this account.
Unfortunately, the several rounds of talks held with the Naxals hitherto and the announcements of amnesties and attractive rehabilitation schemes have not worked so far. Some states like Andhra Pradesh have a good rehabilitation policy and it has achieved some success, but a lot more remains to be done.
The Government indeed is committed to address the Naxal problem in right earnest. It is focusing on improving intelligence set up at the state level, providing help to the states to modernize and train their police forces and accelerate development in the affected areas. What is needed is better coordination both on security and developmental fronts to meet the challenge posed by the Naxals
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Modernising the Indian Army
FOR over a decade the Indian Army’s efforts to modernise have been thwarted due to political neglect and lack of adequate budgetary support. The defence budget for Financial Year 2008-09 increased 10 per cent in nominal terms, barely adequate to keep up with inflation and the fall in the value of the rupee against the US dollar, but decreased to less than 2.0 per cent of India’s projected GDP. A sum of US $12 billion was provided for capital acquisitions (US $9 billion for the army), but of this US $0.6 billion (Rs 3,000 crore) is expected to be surrendered as unspent.
Nothing exemplified the army’s lack of preparedness for war more than the fact that 155 mm ammunition for the Bofors howitzer had to be imported from South Africa during the Kargil conflict in 1999. Had the conflict not been confined to the 150 km frontage of the Kargil sector, T-72 and 130mm medium gun ammunition too may have run short and it would have been politically embarrassing for the government as well as the army.
Not only that, in the plains the army would have had to fight with obsolete Vijayant tanks and several other vintage equipment that were unsuitable for combat. Even though A.K. Antony, the Defence Minister, has said, ‘We need to cut down on the unnecessary procedures, bottlenecks and red tape in our procurement mechanism,’1 the Ministry of Defence has been unable to give modernisation of the armed forces the priority that it deserves.
The Army Chief’s modernisation vision is to ‘adapt to high-end technology, improve night-fighting capability… (and) information technology, information warfare and network centric warfare.’ The indigenously designed Arjun main battle tank (MBT) has been in the pipeline for over two decades. Though the tank has many good features, it has consistently failed to meet the army’s GSQR for an MBT and orders have been placed for only 124 tanks to be manufactured. The lack of progress on the Arjun MBT has significantly slowed down the pace of armour modernisation. In the year 2000 India signed a deal with Russia to acquire 310 T-90S tanks. Subsequently, India began to assemble these tanks at Avadi. It has recently been reported that in addition to these, India has decided to acquire another 347 T-90S tanks and assemble them within the country.
The first Indian assembled T-90S (Bhishma) rolled off the production line on 8 January 2004. Meanwhile, a large number of T-72M1 (Ajeya) tanks are still awaiting modernisation. The lack of a suitable fire control system and night fighting capability are major handicaps.
In a future conventional war that will be fought under the nuclear shadow, manoeuvre will be extremely limited. This restriction will lead to much greater emphasis being placed on firepower to achieve the laid down military aim. Hence, it is imperative that artillery modernisation is undertaken with alacrity so as to generate firepower asymmetries on the future battlefield. The last major acquisition of towed gun-howitzers was that of about 400 pieces of 39-calibre 155mm FH-77B howitzers from Bofors of Sweden in the mid-1980s. This gun had proved its mettle in the Kargil conflict. Just when a contract for 120 tracked and 180 wheeled self-propelled (SP) 155mm guns was about to be concluded after years of protracted trials, South African arms manufacturer Denel, a leading contender for the contract, was alleged to have been involved in a corruption scam in an earlier deal for anti-material rifles (AMRs).
Since January 2008, the Ministry of Defence (MoD) has issued three global tenders for 155mm guns and howitzers for the mountains, the plains and self-propelled guns for the deserts. Summer and winter trials were expected to be held in 2009-10, but so far the bids received are still being evaluated. The artillery modernisation programme is bound to see further delays.
The probability of the next conventional war breaking out in the mountains is far higher than that of a war in the plains. With this in view, the artillery recently conceptualised a requirement for a lightweight towed howitzer of 155mm calibre for employment in the mountains. Neither the present Bofors howitzer nor its 52-calibre replacement will be capable of effective operations in the mountains. A lightweight 45-calibre 155mm howitzer weighing less than 5,000 kg, with a light but adequately powered prime mover, is ideal for the mountains. In January 2008, the MoD floated a Request for Proposal (RfP) for 140 pieces of ultra-light 39 calibre 155mm towed howitzers for use by the Indian Army’s mountain formations. Presumably, these will also be employed by its rapid reaction divisions – as and when they are raised – as the howitzers will be easy to transport by air.
India has floated a global tender for the purchase of 400 52-calibre 155mm towed artillery guns for the army, to be followed by indigenous manufacture of another 1,100 howitzers. An RfP has also been issued for 180 wheeled self-propelled guns for around Rs 4,700 crore for employment by mechanised forces in the plains and semi-desert sectors. Approximately 180 pieces of 130mm M46 Russian medium guns have been successfully ‘up-gunned’ to 155mm calibre with ordnance supplied by Soltam of Israel. The new barrel length of 45 calibres has enhanced the range of the gun to about 40 km with extended range ammunition.
A contract for the acquisition of two regiments of the 12-tube, 300mm Smerch multi-barrel rocket launcher (MBRL) system with 90 km range was signed with Russia’s Rosoboron-export in early 2006. This will be a major boost for the long-range firepower capabilities of the army. Extended range (ER) rockets are being introduced for the 122 mm Grad MBRL that has been in service for over three decades. The ER rockets will enhance the weapon system’s range from 22 to about 40 km. A Rs 5,000 crore (US $1billion) contract has also been signed for the serial production of the Pinaka MBRL weapon system, another DRDO project plagued by time delays and completed with help from Larsen and Toubro and the Tatas.
Since the Bofors 155mm Howitzer was introduced into service, the indigenously designed and manufactured 105 mm Indian Field Gun (IFG) and its (not so) light version, the Light Field Gun (LFG), have joined the 75/24 Indian Mountain Gun, the 100mm Russian field gun and the 122mm Russian howitzer on the obsolescence list.
Counter-bombardment (US term counter-fire) capability is also being upgraded, but at a slow pace. At least about 40 to 50 weapon locating radars (WLRs) are required for effective counter-bombardment, especially in the plains, and only a dozen have been procured so far. In addition to the 12 AN-TPQ 37 Firefinder WLRs acquired from Raytheon, USA, under a 2002 contract worth US $200 million, Bharat Electronics Limited is reported to be assembling 28 WLRs. These radars will be based on both indigenous and imported components and have been approved for introduction into service after extensive tests. The radar is expected to match the capabilities of the Firefinder system and will have a detection range of about 40 kilometre.
The BrahMos supersonic cruise missile (Mach 2.8 to 3.0), with a precision strike capability, very high kill energy and range of 290 km, was inducted into the army in July 2007. It is a versatile missile that can be launched from TATRA mobile launchers and silos on land, aircraft and ships and, perhaps in future, also from submarines. 50 BrahMos missiles are expected to be produced every year. Efforts are underway to further increase its strike range. BrahMos Aerospace has orders worth Rs 3,500 crore (US $0.65 billion) from the army and the navy, which has opted for the anti-ship as well as the land attack cruise missile (LACM) versions. These terrain hugging missiles are virtually immune to counter measures due to their high speed and very low radar cross section and are far superior to subsonic cruise missiles like Pakistan’s Babur.
Despite its large-scale employment on border management and extensive commitments in IS and CI operations, infantry modernisation had been languishing for several decades when the Ministry of Defence (MoD) finally cleared a visionary plan to modernise the army’s infantry battalions by according ‘in principle’ approval in the form of Modification 4B to the war establishment (WE) of a standard infantry battalion in 1998. However, no funds were specially sanctioned for this purpose till the NDA government approved the expenditure of Rs 3,500 crore (US $0.6 billion) in September 2003. The army has initiated a project for a Future Infantry Soldier as a System (F-INSAS). ‘F-INSAS basically aims at "converting an infantryman into a fully-networked all-terrain, all-weather, weapons platform with enhanced lethality, survivability, sustainability, mobility and situational awareness" for the digitised battlefield of the future.’2
While 250 Kornet-E anti-tank guided missiles (ATGMs) with thermal imaging sights have substantially increased the anti-tank capability of infantry battalions, most efforts to modernise the equipment held by infantry and Rashtriya Rifles (RR) units are aimed at enhancing their capability for surveillance and target acquisition at night and boosting their firepower for precise retaliation against infiltrating columns and terrorists holed up in built-up areas. 200 hand-held BFSRs with practical ranges up to seven to eight km where clear line of sight is available, 2,000 hand-held thermal imaging devices (HHTIs) with ranges up to 2,000 metres for observation at night and stand-alone infrared, seismic and acoustic sensors with varying capabilities have enabled infantrymen to dominate the Line of Control so completely that infiltration has come down to almost a trickle.
The newly acquired weapons, which complement these surveillance and observation devices, include: 1,500x 84 mm rocket launchers, including some disposable ones; 1,000 AMRs (anti-material rifles); 8,000 UBGLs (under-barrel grenade launchers); 4,000 new generation carbines; 300 bullet proof vehicles; and, several hundred accurate sniper rifles. However, the numbers acquired and the ammunition stocks are still inadequate and need to be made up more rapidly.
While the INSAS 5.56 mm assault rifles have now been in service for almost 10 years and proved to be effective, the light machine gun (LNG) version is still facing teething problems and the carbine version for close quarter battle has not found favour with the army. New 5.56 mm assault rifles of bull-pup design with an integrated laser range finder and grenade launcher are under development. Efforts are also being made to provide infantry platoons and sections with integrated GPS-based navigation system, secure lightweight walkie-talkie radio sets and better protective gear with a helmet that incorporates a built-in head-up display.
The mechanised infantry is now equipped with the BMP-2 ICV Sarath of which over 1,000 have been built since 1987. A new variant is the 81 mm Carrier Mortar Tracked Vehicle (CMTV) that is based on the chassis of the Sarath ICV and has been indigenously developed to enhance the integral firepower available to mechanised infantry battalions. Other variants include a command post, an ambulance, armoured dozer and engineer and reconnaissance vehicles. Mechanised reconnaissance and support battalions need better surveillance radars, fire-and-forget ATGMs and effective night fighting capability.
A new DRDO project that is reported to be ongoing aims to equip future soldiers with lightweight force multipliers. Soldiers of the future will have miniaturised communication and GPS systems, small power packs, weapon platforms and smart vests with fibre-optic sensors. For over 350 infantry battalions, plus about 150 Rashtriya Rifles, Assam Rifles and Territorial Army battalions, these major changes will be extremely costly to implement and will spill over at least 10 to 12 years – that is, if the funds can be found. Without modernising this cutting edge of its sword, the army will soon begin to resemble the armies of India’s lesser neighbours.
Another DRDO project that is way behind schedule is the Nag anti-tank missile system. The antiquated Jonga-mounted SS-11 B1 anti-tank guided missile (ATGM) system has been replaced in missile battalions by MILAN shoulder-fired ATGMs. However, a vehicle-mounted missile system like the Nag is definitely necessary for reconnaissance and attrition tasks and for anti-tank screens. The experimental Plan AREN tactical communications system for strike formations needs early replacement. The ability to carry broadband data needs to be enhanced in particular. Even the more recent static communications network called ASCON lacks ISDN capability for the real-time transmission of maps and streaming video.
The Defence Minister, A.K. Antony, recently admitted that there are gaps in India’s air defence coverage.3 While the allusion was primarily to the lack of sufficient radar coverage to detect aerial threats to India’s air space, the air defence (AD) of field formations continues to be given a much lower priority than it deserves. With the DRDO’s indigenous Akash medium-range and Trishul short-range surface-to-air (SAM) missile projects not making major headway, it is time to start looking at substitutes from abroad. The air defence of mechanised forces is another area that is crying for attention. The SAM-6 and SAM-7 Kvadrat-Strela medium range missile system, the backbone of AD for strike formations since the early 1970s, is now ageing and needs urgent replacement.
The Tungushka and the OSA-AK (SA-8) missile systems are on the obsolescence list and the 23mm, multi-barrelled Schilka tracked air defence gun system is already obsolete. In fact, the assets of the Army Air Defence corps are grossly inadequate to provide high quality low-level air defence to the field formations. Hence, forward combat echelons will lack effective protection against enemy aircraft during a future war. The young Army Air Defence corps requires substantial capital infusion to really come into its own.
For the future, the Defence Research and Development Organisation (DRDO) is planning to develop an integrated air defence system with exo-atmosphere (above 40 km altitude) and endo-atmosphere (below 30 km) capabilities by 2009-10. The system may also have built-in features to double up as a tactical missile, apart from functioning as an extended air defence system to engage target aircraft beyond 100 km. This was stated by V.K. Saraswat, Chief Controller, DRDO R&D (Missiles and Strategic Systems), after the successful test launch of a high-altitude interceptor missile from the Wheeler Island in December 2007. This programme will also lead to the development of an indigenous ballistic missile defence (BMD) capability.
An automated command and control and decision support system for use by the General Staff is still far from becoming a reality, as also supporting systems like the battlefield surveillance system and air space management system. The urgent requirement of real-time satellite reconnaissance systems has still not been operationalised despite the nuclear overhang under which the armed forces now operate. Even though the cameras on India’s remote sensing and cartographic satellites now have sharply enhanced resolutions, less than one metre, military-grade photographs of still better resolution are needed to be purchased from the open market. These sources may dry up quickly during war.
A ‘system of systems’ approach must be followed so that scarce RSTA and communications resources can be synergistically configured and optimally exploited, based on the concept of ‘network-centric warfare’ in which surveillance sensors, targeting systems and ‘shooters’ are fused together in a seamless ‘system of systems’ that reduces response time between the acquisition of a target and its destruction to 15-20 minutes.
Though some modern frequency hopping radio sets with integral encryption devices have been introduced into service in recent years, networked communications, which form the backbone of an effective C4I2SR system, need substantial upgradation. The tactical-level Tac C3I system for field formations is in urgent need of an upgrade. The Plan AREN system has been in service for almost three decades and is based on outdated and bulky technologies. The ASCON communication system for voice and data links between static HQ and those in peacetime locations, still has some years of service left as it is of modular design and can be upgraded to a limited extent. However, its capability to provide data links is rather limited as data requirements have grown by leaps and bounds over the last decade or so. A tri-service Defence Communication Network (DCN) is in an advanced stage of planning.
While some Stentor long-range BFSRs have been in service for over a decade, medium-range radars are still to be acquired. Israeli Searcher-I and Heron unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) have been introduced into service but these are few in number and it will be a long time before they really make a difference by providing a real-time surveillance capability so that ground forces can initiate action even as a fresh input is received. Only a small number of Searcher-II UAVs, with an upper ceiling that makes them suitable for the mountains, have been acquired.
PGMs are increasingly gaining currency as weapons of choice in conflict on land, however, the Indian artillery does not have PGMs in quantities large enough to matter. Only limited quantities of the Russian Krasnopol PGM have been imported for the Bofors 155mm howitzer. Among others, the Bofors Bonus PGM is a suitable candidate, subject to successful trials in the deserts and mountains.
Despite a Long-term Integrated Perspective Plan (LTIPP) and five-year Defence Plans, approval has to be sought on file for each new weapon system or piece of equipment on a ‘case-by-case’ basis. It is by now well-known how each such case chronicles the saga of an uphill struggle to get approval first from the MoD, then MoD (Finance), the Ministry of Finance (MoF) and, finally, the Cabinet Committee on Security. All this is only possible after the DRDO has first certified that the weapon system or equipment in question cannot be developed and manufactured indigenously and such a certificate is hard to come by. Gradually these archaic procurement and acquisition procedures are being reviewed and improved. The Defence Procurement Procedure (DPP) 2008 was promulgated recently.
The approach to army modernisation must be more focused; the priorities need to be clearly established and then adhered to. The government must give a firm commitment in terms of funds and the MoD should streamline its procedures and processes for speedy procurement of high priority weapons and equipment. It is time to institute a rolling, non-lapsable defence modernisation fund of Rs 25,000 crore (US $5 billion) as a viable method of ensuring that defence procurement is not subjected to the vagaries of annual budgets. The present situation is disturbing and, if allowed to go on indefinitely, will seriously compromise the army’s preparedness to fight the next border war that inimical neighbours like Pakistan can be expected to thrust on India. The MoD ‘has assured the army of full support for its around 600 modernisation schemes, worth about Rs 70,000 crore in the 11th Plan (2007-2012) period,’4 but it remains to be seen whether this will actually materialise.
Nothing exemplified the army’s lack of preparedness for war more than the fact that 155 mm ammunition for the Bofors howitzer had to be imported from South Africa during the Kargil conflict in 1999. Had the conflict not been confined to the 150 km frontage of the Kargil sector, T-72 and 130mm medium gun ammunition too may have run short and it would have been politically embarrassing for the government as well as the army.
Not only that, in the plains the army would have had to fight with obsolete Vijayant tanks and several other vintage equipment that were unsuitable for combat. Even though A.K. Antony, the Defence Minister, has said, ‘We need to cut down on the unnecessary procedures, bottlenecks and red tape in our procurement mechanism,’1 the Ministry of Defence has been unable to give modernisation of the armed forces the priority that it deserves.
The Army Chief’s modernisation vision is to ‘adapt to high-end technology, improve night-fighting capability… (and) information technology, information warfare and network centric warfare.’ The indigenously designed Arjun main battle tank (MBT) has been in the pipeline for over two decades. Though the tank has many good features, it has consistently failed to meet the army’s GSQR for an MBT and orders have been placed for only 124 tanks to be manufactured. The lack of progress on the Arjun MBT has significantly slowed down the pace of armour modernisation. In the year 2000 India signed a deal with Russia to acquire 310 T-90S tanks. Subsequently, India began to assemble these tanks at Avadi. It has recently been reported that in addition to these, India has decided to acquire another 347 T-90S tanks and assemble them within the country.
The first Indian assembled T-90S (Bhishma) rolled off the production line on 8 January 2004. Meanwhile, a large number of T-72M1 (Ajeya) tanks are still awaiting modernisation. The lack of a suitable fire control system and night fighting capability are major handicaps.
In a future conventional war that will be fought under the nuclear shadow, manoeuvre will be extremely limited. This restriction will lead to much greater emphasis being placed on firepower to achieve the laid down military aim. Hence, it is imperative that artillery modernisation is undertaken with alacrity so as to generate firepower asymmetries on the future battlefield. The last major acquisition of towed gun-howitzers was that of about 400 pieces of 39-calibre 155mm FH-77B howitzers from Bofors of Sweden in the mid-1980s. This gun had proved its mettle in the Kargil conflict. Just when a contract for 120 tracked and 180 wheeled self-propelled (SP) 155mm guns was about to be concluded after years of protracted trials, South African arms manufacturer Denel, a leading contender for the contract, was alleged to have been involved in a corruption scam in an earlier deal for anti-material rifles (AMRs).
Since January 2008, the Ministry of Defence (MoD) has issued three global tenders for 155mm guns and howitzers for the mountains, the plains and self-propelled guns for the deserts. Summer and winter trials were expected to be held in 2009-10, but so far the bids received are still being evaluated. The artillery modernisation programme is bound to see further delays.
The probability of the next conventional war breaking out in the mountains is far higher than that of a war in the plains. With this in view, the artillery recently conceptualised a requirement for a lightweight towed howitzer of 155mm calibre for employment in the mountains. Neither the present Bofors howitzer nor its 52-calibre replacement will be capable of effective operations in the mountains. A lightweight 45-calibre 155mm howitzer weighing less than 5,000 kg, with a light but adequately powered prime mover, is ideal for the mountains. In January 2008, the MoD floated a Request for Proposal (RfP) for 140 pieces of ultra-light 39 calibre 155mm towed howitzers for use by the Indian Army’s mountain formations. Presumably, these will also be employed by its rapid reaction divisions – as and when they are raised – as the howitzers will be easy to transport by air.
India has floated a global tender for the purchase of 400 52-calibre 155mm towed artillery guns for the army, to be followed by indigenous manufacture of another 1,100 howitzers. An RfP has also been issued for 180 wheeled self-propelled guns for around Rs 4,700 crore for employment by mechanised forces in the plains and semi-desert sectors. Approximately 180 pieces of 130mm M46 Russian medium guns have been successfully ‘up-gunned’ to 155mm calibre with ordnance supplied by Soltam of Israel. The new barrel length of 45 calibres has enhanced the range of the gun to about 40 km with extended range ammunition.
A contract for the acquisition of two regiments of the 12-tube, 300mm Smerch multi-barrel rocket launcher (MBRL) system with 90 km range was signed with Russia’s Rosoboron-export in early 2006. This will be a major boost for the long-range firepower capabilities of the army. Extended range (ER) rockets are being introduced for the 122 mm Grad MBRL that has been in service for over three decades. The ER rockets will enhance the weapon system’s range from 22 to about 40 km. A Rs 5,000 crore (US $1billion) contract has also been signed for the serial production of the Pinaka MBRL weapon system, another DRDO project plagued by time delays and completed with help from Larsen and Toubro and the Tatas.
Since the Bofors 155mm Howitzer was introduced into service, the indigenously designed and manufactured 105 mm Indian Field Gun (IFG) and its (not so) light version, the Light Field Gun (LFG), have joined the 75/24 Indian Mountain Gun, the 100mm Russian field gun and the 122mm Russian howitzer on the obsolescence list.
Counter-bombardment (US term counter-fire) capability is also being upgraded, but at a slow pace. At least about 40 to 50 weapon locating radars (WLRs) are required for effective counter-bombardment, especially in the plains, and only a dozen have been procured so far. In addition to the 12 AN-TPQ 37 Firefinder WLRs acquired from Raytheon, USA, under a 2002 contract worth US $200 million, Bharat Electronics Limited is reported to be assembling 28 WLRs. These radars will be based on both indigenous and imported components and have been approved for introduction into service after extensive tests. The radar is expected to match the capabilities of the Firefinder system and will have a detection range of about 40 kilometre.
The BrahMos supersonic cruise missile (Mach 2.8 to 3.0), with a precision strike capability, very high kill energy and range of 290 km, was inducted into the army in July 2007. It is a versatile missile that can be launched from TATRA mobile launchers and silos on land, aircraft and ships and, perhaps in future, also from submarines. 50 BrahMos missiles are expected to be produced every year. Efforts are underway to further increase its strike range. BrahMos Aerospace has orders worth Rs 3,500 crore (US $0.65 billion) from the army and the navy, which has opted for the anti-ship as well as the land attack cruise missile (LACM) versions. These terrain hugging missiles are virtually immune to counter measures due to their high speed and very low radar cross section and are far superior to subsonic cruise missiles like Pakistan’s Babur.
Despite its large-scale employment on border management and extensive commitments in IS and CI operations, infantry modernisation had been languishing for several decades when the Ministry of Defence (MoD) finally cleared a visionary plan to modernise the army’s infantry battalions by according ‘in principle’ approval in the form of Modification 4B to the war establishment (WE) of a standard infantry battalion in 1998. However, no funds were specially sanctioned for this purpose till the NDA government approved the expenditure of Rs 3,500 crore (US $0.6 billion) in September 2003. The army has initiated a project for a Future Infantry Soldier as a System (F-INSAS). ‘F-INSAS basically aims at "converting an infantryman into a fully-networked all-terrain, all-weather, weapons platform with enhanced lethality, survivability, sustainability, mobility and situational awareness" for the digitised battlefield of the future.’2
While 250 Kornet-E anti-tank guided missiles (ATGMs) with thermal imaging sights have substantially increased the anti-tank capability of infantry battalions, most efforts to modernise the equipment held by infantry and Rashtriya Rifles (RR) units are aimed at enhancing their capability for surveillance and target acquisition at night and boosting their firepower for precise retaliation against infiltrating columns and terrorists holed up in built-up areas. 200 hand-held BFSRs with practical ranges up to seven to eight km where clear line of sight is available, 2,000 hand-held thermal imaging devices (HHTIs) with ranges up to 2,000 metres for observation at night and stand-alone infrared, seismic and acoustic sensors with varying capabilities have enabled infantrymen to dominate the Line of Control so completely that infiltration has come down to almost a trickle.
The newly acquired weapons, which complement these surveillance and observation devices, include: 1,500x 84 mm rocket launchers, including some disposable ones; 1,000 AMRs (anti-material rifles); 8,000 UBGLs (under-barrel grenade launchers); 4,000 new generation carbines; 300 bullet proof vehicles; and, several hundred accurate sniper rifles. However, the numbers acquired and the ammunition stocks are still inadequate and need to be made up more rapidly.
While the INSAS 5.56 mm assault rifles have now been in service for almost 10 years and proved to be effective, the light machine gun (LNG) version is still facing teething problems and the carbine version for close quarter battle has not found favour with the army. New 5.56 mm assault rifles of bull-pup design with an integrated laser range finder and grenade launcher are under development. Efforts are also being made to provide infantry platoons and sections with integrated GPS-based navigation system, secure lightweight walkie-talkie radio sets and better protective gear with a helmet that incorporates a built-in head-up display.
The mechanised infantry is now equipped with the BMP-2 ICV Sarath of which over 1,000 have been built since 1987. A new variant is the 81 mm Carrier Mortar Tracked Vehicle (CMTV) that is based on the chassis of the Sarath ICV and has been indigenously developed to enhance the integral firepower available to mechanised infantry battalions. Other variants include a command post, an ambulance, armoured dozer and engineer and reconnaissance vehicles. Mechanised reconnaissance and support battalions need better surveillance radars, fire-and-forget ATGMs and effective night fighting capability.
A new DRDO project that is reported to be ongoing aims to equip future soldiers with lightweight force multipliers. Soldiers of the future will have miniaturised communication and GPS systems, small power packs, weapon platforms and smart vests with fibre-optic sensors. For over 350 infantry battalions, plus about 150 Rashtriya Rifles, Assam Rifles and Territorial Army battalions, these major changes will be extremely costly to implement and will spill over at least 10 to 12 years – that is, if the funds can be found. Without modernising this cutting edge of its sword, the army will soon begin to resemble the armies of India’s lesser neighbours.
Another DRDO project that is way behind schedule is the Nag anti-tank missile system. The antiquated Jonga-mounted SS-11 B1 anti-tank guided missile (ATGM) system has been replaced in missile battalions by MILAN shoulder-fired ATGMs. However, a vehicle-mounted missile system like the Nag is definitely necessary for reconnaissance and attrition tasks and for anti-tank screens. The experimental Plan AREN tactical communications system for strike formations needs early replacement. The ability to carry broadband data needs to be enhanced in particular. Even the more recent static communications network called ASCON lacks ISDN capability for the real-time transmission of maps and streaming video.
The Defence Minister, A.K. Antony, recently admitted that there are gaps in India’s air defence coverage.3 While the allusion was primarily to the lack of sufficient radar coverage to detect aerial threats to India’s air space, the air defence (AD) of field formations continues to be given a much lower priority than it deserves. With the DRDO’s indigenous Akash medium-range and Trishul short-range surface-to-air (SAM) missile projects not making major headway, it is time to start looking at substitutes from abroad. The air defence of mechanised forces is another area that is crying for attention. The SAM-6 and SAM-7 Kvadrat-Strela medium range missile system, the backbone of AD for strike formations since the early 1970s, is now ageing and needs urgent replacement.
The Tungushka and the OSA-AK (SA-8) missile systems are on the obsolescence list and the 23mm, multi-barrelled Schilka tracked air defence gun system is already obsolete. In fact, the assets of the Army Air Defence corps are grossly inadequate to provide high quality low-level air defence to the field formations. Hence, forward combat echelons will lack effective protection against enemy aircraft during a future war. The young Army Air Defence corps requires substantial capital infusion to really come into its own.
For the future, the Defence Research and Development Organisation (DRDO) is planning to develop an integrated air defence system with exo-atmosphere (above 40 km altitude) and endo-atmosphere (below 30 km) capabilities by 2009-10. The system may also have built-in features to double up as a tactical missile, apart from functioning as an extended air defence system to engage target aircraft beyond 100 km. This was stated by V.K. Saraswat, Chief Controller, DRDO R&D (Missiles and Strategic Systems), after the successful test launch of a high-altitude interceptor missile from the Wheeler Island in December 2007. This programme will also lead to the development of an indigenous ballistic missile defence (BMD) capability.
An automated command and control and decision support system for use by the General Staff is still far from becoming a reality, as also supporting systems like the battlefield surveillance system and air space management system. The urgent requirement of real-time satellite reconnaissance systems has still not been operationalised despite the nuclear overhang under which the armed forces now operate. Even though the cameras on India’s remote sensing and cartographic satellites now have sharply enhanced resolutions, less than one metre, military-grade photographs of still better resolution are needed to be purchased from the open market. These sources may dry up quickly during war.
A ‘system of systems’ approach must be followed so that scarce RSTA and communications resources can be synergistically configured and optimally exploited, based on the concept of ‘network-centric warfare’ in which surveillance sensors, targeting systems and ‘shooters’ are fused together in a seamless ‘system of systems’ that reduces response time between the acquisition of a target and its destruction to 15-20 minutes.
Though some modern frequency hopping radio sets with integral encryption devices have been introduced into service in recent years, networked communications, which form the backbone of an effective C4I2SR system, need substantial upgradation. The tactical-level Tac C3I system for field formations is in urgent need of an upgrade. The Plan AREN system has been in service for almost three decades and is based on outdated and bulky technologies. The ASCON communication system for voice and data links between static HQ and those in peacetime locations, still has some years of service left as it is of modular design and can be upgraded to a limited extent. However, its capability to provide data links is rather limited as data requirements have grown by leaps and bounds over the last decade or so. A tri-service Defence Communication Network (DCN) is in an advanced stage of planning.
While some Stentor long-range BFSRs have been in service for over a decade, medium-range radars are still to be acquired. Israeli Searcher-I and Heron unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) have been introduced into service but these are few in number and it will be a long time before they really make a difference by providing a real-time surveillance capability so that ground forces can initiate action even as a fresh input is received. Only a small number of Searcher-II UAVs, with an upper ceiling that makes them suitable for the mountains, have been acquired.
PGMs are increasingly gaining currency as weapons of choice in conflict on land, however, the Indian artillery does not have PGMs in quantities large enough to matter. Only limited quantities of the Russian Krasnopol PGM have been imported for the Bofors 155mm howitzer. Among others, the Bofors Bonus PGM is a suitable candidate, subject to successful trials in the deserts and mountains.
Despite a Long-term Integrated Perspective Plan (LTIPP) and five-year Defence Plans, approval has to be sought on file for each new weapon system or piece of equipment on a ‘case-by-case’ basis. It is by now well-known how each such case chronicles the saga of an uphill struggle to get approval first from the MoD, then MoD (Finance), the Ministry of Finance (MoF) and, finally, the Cabinet Committee on Security. All this is only possible after the DRDO has first certified that the weapon system or equipment in question cannot be developed and manufactured indigenously and such a certificate is hard to come by. Gradually these archaic procurement and acquisition procedures are being reviewed and improved. The Defence Procurement Procedure (DPP) 2008 was promulgated recently.
The approach to army modernisation must be more focused; the priorities need to be clearly established and then adhered to. The government must give a firm commitment in terms of funds and the MoD should streamline its procedures and processes for speedy procurement of high priority weapons and equipment. It is time to institute a rolling, non-lapsable defence modernisation fund of Rs 25,000 crore (US $5 billion) as a viable method of ensuring that defence procurement is not subjected to the vagaries of annual budgets. The present situation is disturbing and, if allowed to go on indefinitely, will seriously compromise the army’s preparedness to fight the next border war that inimical neighbours like Pakistan can be expected to thrust on India. The MoD ‘has assured the army of full support for its around 600 modernisation schemes, worth about Rs 70,000 crore in the 11th Plan (2007-2012) period,’4 but it remains to be seen whether this will actually materialise.
India and crisis management
THE reaction of states and regimes to crises is a staple of the study of modern international relations, and an important part of the study of business strategy and public policy. International crises, in particular, have a certain romance about them – the looming possibility of escalation (especially in a nuclear environment), the sometimes reckless use of brinkmanship, the role of covert communications and back channels, and the watchful eye of the international community and the possibility of third party intervention all provide great drama to the study of relations between states.
Modern India, like many other states, regularly contends with crises. Some have been domestic – the Bhopal disaster, the economic crisis of 1990, and most recently the tsunami of 2004-2005. India has also faced both bilateral and multilateral international crises, including the crisis of 1971, at least six different military crises with Pakistan since 1984 (with a progressively more threatening nuclear component), the intervention of a peace keeping force in Sri Lanka in 1987, the evacuation of Indian citizens abroad in 1990 and 2006, and multiple terrorist incidents. These all give some evidence for identifying India’s crisis management ‘style’.
This essay will focus on several key components of crisis and crisis management – surprise and the role of intelligence agencies both before and during the crisis; cooperation and coordination among government agencies in crisis; the use of signalling and communications in crisis; the role of leadership in managing and defusing crises; and how the Indian system has adapted and learned from each crisis. This essay will also focus primarily on crises with Pakistan, because crisis management is more difficult in the face of an adversary, and because the number of crises with Pakistan since 1984 provides a more consistent source of examples to demonstrate institutional learning and change.
The romance of crisis management as a focus for the study of international relations dates back to the crises of October 1962. For India, of course, military and political leadership struggled with the implications of a looming military defeat on the Sino-Indian border. In the United States, the Himalayan War was subsumed in what for the US was a much greater crisis in the Caribbean – the famous Cuban Missile Crisis. This two-week event is now immortalized in film (Thirteen Days in October) and books (Essence of Decision), and remains a case study for the understanding of international relations. What most Americans and Indians do not know is that at the same time President Kennedy created the famous ‘EXCOM’ (executive committee) of the highest ranking officials for discussion of Cuba, he simultaneously created a second committee of key officials at a slightly lower tier in the bureaucracy to consider options in the Sino-Indian conflict.
In the United States, crisis management became almost a cult phenomenon – studied intensely by businesses, policy-makers, and academics. The reason for this is simple. Crises provide a unique opportunity for officials to make decisions that matter. Those decisions are made under pressure – correct decisions must be made in a timely manner. The correctness of the decision is measurable, since the crisis either resolves satisfactorily (including, in some cases, a ‘win’) or it does not. Crises provide a benchmark for measuring executive performance at the highest level, under the greatest pressure, and often in circumstances of intense competition.
It would be a mistake to assume that the American fascination – some might say obsession – with crisis management is found in equal measure elsewhere in the world. Different states and regimes manage crises in different ways – each has its own particular style, resulting from its own history, traditions, and institutions. What is so interesting about the Indian case is how crisis management has evolved, since 1962, in such different ways from the US.
In India, especially in government, the style of decision-making is quite different from the United States. India has large, highly trained bureaucracies, but decision-making remains tightly centralized, hierarchical, and stovepiped. The Prime Minister and a handful of close advisors already make most of the major decisions in government – often in consultation, but the nature of Indian decision-making already vests enormous authority and routine responsibility in the hands of the very top leaders. This process of centralization, present since independence, has only accelerated since the 1970s. The small strategic enclave that dominated nuclear decision-making from 1947-1998 symbolizes this tightly-knit, highly centralized decision-making style. A crisis, which is a rare opportunity to act decisively for American executives, is very much ‘business as usual’ in the Indian system – with perhaps a slightly elevated sense of haste.
India’s inter-agency process is also unique. The Lok Sabha plays remarkably little role in national security or foreign affairs. The extraordinary influence of certain key institutions – the Ministry of External Affairs, Indian Administrative Service, and Defence Research and Development Organization (DRDO), to name a few – is not necessarily matched by an ability to coordinate across agencies or work cooperatively. Competition between ministries – the Ministry of Finance, DRDO, and the Ministry of Defence on matters of defence procurement – and between elements of the bureaucracy (Indian Foreign Service and Indian Administrative Service, for example) inhibits normal decision-making, and does not appear to decrease substantially in crisis.
Finally, India’s unique civil-military relationship creates an ambiguous impact on policy – in most periods, military influence is limited and tightly channelled into specific areas of professional expertise (tactics, operations, force structure, and certain elements of procurement). At times, however, particular Indian military leaders have been extremely influential or outspoken, creating points of dissonance in what otherwise appears to be a gradual evolution towards modest but greater military involvement in foreign policy matters.
Surprise is endemic to crisis, as friction is to warfare. What creates a crisis is at least in part a sense of psychological shock – the abrupt emergence of the unexpected. It is easy to blame intelligence agencies and professionals for failure to anticipate the unexpected, but this often unrealistic. Uncertainty is a fundamental factor in intelligence collection and interpretation. What is equally interesting is how intelligence adapts to crisis, how it is used, and how accurately it assesses second-order effects of the activities of the state.
Both Indian and Pakistani scholars and analysts routinely reassure Americans that the regional nuclear balance is stable, because both sides understand one another so well. The experience of the region since the mid-1980s, however, suggests that surprise and crisis have been endemic, at least in part because of intelligence failures based on significant misperception or over-confidence. From Surprise to Reckoning: The Kargil Review Committee Report devotes three chapters and several different sections on findings and recommendations to the inadequacy of India’s intelligence gathering efforts. The report makes a series of recommendations about both organizational changes and the need to provide greater redundancy in collection and assessment. Not all the recommendations have been acted upon – this is also the case with the American 9/11 Commission Report.
The inability to predict certain second-order effects in earlier crises is quite evident. In the Brasstacks crisis of 1986, for instance, there appears to have been no awareness in India that the nature of the later stages of the operation might create a crisis. A routine military exercise practising the dispersal and concealment of key strike elements in the Indian Air Force generated great alarm among both Pakistani and US analysts in 1984. Routine Indian Army exercises in both 1990 and 2008 were interpreted by Pakistan (rightly or wrongly) as aggressive or threatening in the midst of evolving crises. It remains unclear how much of India’s failed effort at coercion in 2001-2002 was the result of flawed intelligence assessments, and how much was simply the result of frustration and a lack of credible military options.
India’s intelligence agencies, particularly the Research and Analysis Wing (R&AW), have a historically close relationship with the office of the prime minister. As a result, during crises their output has been, increasingly, utilized for signalling purposes (see below). The Kargil Review Committee recognized the most spectacular coup of the 1999 conflict – the interception and subsequent publication of General Musharraf’s high-level telephone conversations. Indian intelligence has also been used for diplomatic purposes in 1971, to publicize Pakistan’s actions in what is now Bangladesh, and also in both the 2001-2002 and 2008 Mumbai attacks to indicate links to Pakistani intelligence agencies and support.
As mentioned above, Americans revel in crisis management at least in part because it allows executives to step out of their institutional role and consider and inform broader policy-making. Because of crises and more extended conflict experiences (especially Vietnam, and now Iraq), the United States is institutionalizing both jointness (coordination between military services) and inter-agency cooperation (between various government agencies). In the US system, influence depends not only on personalities, but also on resources, which makes the Department of Defense an extraordinarily powerful player in foreign policy.
The Indian system is evolving much more slowly towards joint and inter-agency cooperation and coordination. Barriers to information sharing are sometimes formidable, and do not appear to lift significantly in crisis. The IPKF mission (Operation Pawan) was hampered by inter-service issues – the Indian Navy now admits in its Indian Military Maritime Strategy that ‘…it often deposited the troops ashore in an unfit condition to fight.’ Sharing of intelligence between R&AW and the army in the Sri Lankan intervention has been criticized by some analysts. The MEA was at least partially excluded from the planning of Brasstacks, and was either unwilling or unable to provide insight into possible Pakistani reactions. The misreading at almost all levels of Pakistan’s response to India’s 1998 nuclear tests contributed to two successive crises – the first in the period just before Pakistan’s test, when Pakistani security responded to an anticipated (but non-existent) Indian pre-emptive strike, and later in Kargil.
The tensions in cooperation are only exacerbated by Indian civil-military relations. The role of the military, and particularly the army, is tightly regulated by Indian political leadership. At the same time, the army is by far the largest service, and the one with the greatest capacity in a wide range of contingencies. As a result, the establishment of joint and inter-agency coordinating bodies – the Integrated Defence Staff, or a National Security Council – has been complicated and, to date, incomplete. The response to the Mumbai attack suggests a range of obstacles to effective coordination.
Jointness and inter-agency cooperation thrive, however, in crisis circumstances in India that are non-competitive – the response to the tsunami in 2004-2005, in which joint planning played a critical part is an interesting example. The enormous difficulty the US had in managing the Hurricane Katrina disaster suggests a counterpoint – the US may be much less focused or adequate in organizing for natural disasters than in thinking about international crises. This may be a function of familiarity (the Indian Ocean is the scene of catastrophic natural disasters on a more regular basis than the continental US), of institutional competence and capability, or perhaps of institutional focus and organizational style.
A crucial element of crisis management is the use of communications and signalling. These tools allow governments to frame the nature of the problem for their own populations, to influence the international community, and most crucially to manage escalation and tension with the adversary, leading to a resolution of the crisis short of major war. These efforts can include not only official remarks and formalized bilateral communications channels, but also informal channels, ‘Track Two’ approaches (often through former officials), third-party diplomatic intervention, and the use of leaks to local and international media.
US analysts were particularly struck by the reluctance of both India and Pakistan to use a ‘hot line’ established between the two military headquarters during crises in the late Cold War period. The US had come to rely on these official channels for defusing potential crises, and for simply keeping the Soviets informed of potential surprises, during the Cold War. As the Indo-Pakistan relationship became more hostile and crisis-prone, primarily because of Pakistani support for a range of militants attempting to destabilize India, India’s use of signalling and communications evolved.
A major argument for more control in the process emerged during the Kargil conflict, when multiple Indian sources of varying levels of official influence made remarks about nuclear preparedness and strategy. These communications included belligerent statements from the RSS – which Pakistanis might have interpreted as much more ‘official’, given the BJP-led coalition government, than they actually were. Lack of control over nuclear signalling is an easy route to inadvertent escalation, and it is clear that during Operation Parakram the Indian government exercised more stringent control over the process. Track Two diplomatic efforts, at the time, apparently played some role in crisis management – although they were ultimately unsuccessful in creating a solution to the Kashmir issue.
An area where India has been particularly effective in influencing both domestic and international audiences has been the use of the well-placed intelligence release. The release of transcripts of telephone calls between Pakistani leaders during the Kargil crisis clearly delegitimized Pakistan’s spurious official story. Similarly, the leaking of some data about the terrorist attackers on 13 December 2001 made a profound impression on the US and the international community, and essentially confirmed the Pakistani origin of the attackers, if not the attack itself. Most recently, the release of a significant file on the Mumbai attack, and the continuing flow of information from the one captured terrorist, leave no doubt about the Pakistani origins of the attackers.
Given India’s centralized decision-making process, it is not surprising that executive leadership is crucial in crisis management. Various leaders have demonstrated somewhat different approaches – Indira Gandhi, for example, was opportunistic and Machiavellian in her exploitation of the 1971 crisis. Rajiv Gandhi also exhibited an opportunistic side in 1986 – perhaps from inexperience, perhaps from the unique influence of a pair of senior military and defence advisors, or perhaps out of a genuine desire to influence Pakistan before its nuclear capacity was actualized. Atal Bihari Vajpayee demonstrated both idealism after the nuclear tests and a frustrated (and entirely understandable) outrage during Kargil and Parakram. In each of the latter cases, however, belligerent rhetoric did not blossom into unconstrained military action. In response to individual terrorist acts, Vajpayee chose not to overreact to the Indian Airlines 814 hijacking incident in 1999, and Manmohan Singh showed enormous restraint over Mumbai.
Each of the crises with Pakistan has been a test of Indian policy, and of the utility of military force in managing its relationship with Pakistan. Because these crises have been nearly constant, averaging at least two per decade since the 1980s, they also constitute a referendum on the policies of particular governments and of the Indian leadership consensus on the Indo-Pakistani relationship. During and after each crisis, the existing Indian leadership must grapple with how tough a stance they wish to take, the role of military force, and how they wish to conduct diplomacy with Pakistan during and after the crisis. Each crisis provides plenty of ammunition for partisan critics and for those who believe India should take a far more antagonistic stance towards their western neighbour.
It is interesting, therefore, that the overall trend in Indian policy, reinforced through multiple crises with leaders from several different political parties and alliances, has been pragmatic and restrained. Some, especially in the United States, argue that this is attributable to the presence of nuclear weapons on both sides. Nuclear weapons undoubtedly play some role in Indian restraint, but do not explain some remarkable choices. PM Vajpayee, for example, had every reason not to conduct any kind of negotiations with General Musharraf once he took power, given Musharraf’s role in the Kargil conflict. He could easily have opted for something like a containment policy – an option that was frequently mentioned among Indian analysts and critics – given the woeful state of Pakistan’s economy, diplomatic relations (especially with the United States), and the ongoing militancy in Jammu and Kashmir. Rajiv Gandhi opted for ‘cricket diplomacy’ rather than Operation Trident. Manmohan Singh chose not to pressure Pakistan’s new and fragile democracy too fiercely, despite the viciousness of the Mumbai attacks. Each crisis, therefore, has contributed to the strengthening of an Indian tradition of watchful engagement with Pakistan, however unpleasant that may occasionally seem.
Responses to domestic crises, however, have led to considerable adaptation by leadership. The Bhopal disaster reversed Indo-US economic relations. The economic crisis of 1990-1991 led to a reassessment of India’s economic policy. Internal conflicts in Punjab and elsewhere, even when receiving foreign support, created opportunities to make significant changes in security policy and in the management of local politics. Internal crises, therefore, appear to provide opportunities for major policy innovation and response, in contrast to external crises which appear to reinforce a relatively consistent policy approach.
This makes, again, an interesting contrast with the American experience. Americans tend to focus on international crises, which then profoundly impact not only domestic elections but also overall policy. The Cuban missile crisis basically validated President Kennedy, and contributed to the landslide victory of President Johnson in 1964. The combination of the Iranian revolution (with associated hostage crisis) and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan doomed President Carter. Operation ‘Desert Fox’ nearly reached the level of comic relief in 1998, with both Iraq and the opposition Republican Party suggesting that President Clinton was attempting to distract the country from his domestic problems. The aftermath of that crisis included an under-resourced commitment by the Clinton administration to overthrow the regime of Saddam Hussein – a commitment which was pursued by his successor after 9/11, with profound effects on US international and domestic policy.
In one area, the response of both India and the US is similar. In both states, international crises tend to lead to temporary increases in military spending. India’s defence expenditures increased dramatically after both Kargil and Parakram – as did the US after the disasters of 1979. Again, India makes pragmatic choices after crises with Pakistan, including the reconsideration of the issue of limited war after Kargil, and the continued implementation of a new and more flexible ‘Cold Start’ army doctrine after Parakram.
Indian crisis management style, therefore, is not terribly dissimilar from general Indian governance – tightly centralized, risk-averse, and hierarchical in nature. India does learn from crises, but changes tend to be evolutionary rather than innovative. Continual crises with Pakistan are gradually changing the civil-military relationship, permitting greater military input into policy planning and crisis management, while still maintaining strict civilian control. Individual leaders are the most important factor in Indian crisis management efforts, but the overall Indian experience in crisis is one of gradual evolution and continuity. International crises do not generally result in dramatic policy shifts. Those tend to result from domestic crises, and are then reflected in electoral shifts.
Modern India, like many other states, regularly contends with crises. Some have been domestic – the Bhopal disaster, the economic crisis of 1990, and most recently the tsunami of 2004-2005. India has also faced both bilateral and multilateral international crises, including the crisis of 1971, at least six different military crises with Pakistan since 1984 (with a progressively more threatening nuclear component), the intervention of a peace keeping force in Sri Lanka in 1987, the evacuation of Indian citizens abroad in 1990 and 2006, and multiple terrorist incidents. These all give some evidence for identifying India’s crisis management ‘style’.
This essay will focus on several key components of crisis and crisis management – surprise and the role of intelligence agencies both before and during the crisis; cooperation and coordination among government agencies in crisis; the use of signalling and communications in crisis; the role of leadership in managing and defusing crises; and how the Indian system has adapted and learned from each crisis. This essay will also focus primarily on crises with Pakistan, because crisis management is more difficult in the face of an adversary, and because the number of crises with Pakistan since 1984 provides a more consistent source of examples to demonstrate institutional learning and change.
The romance of crisis management as a focus for the study of international relations dates back to the crises of October 1962. For India, of course, military and political leadership struggled with the implications of a looming military defeat on the Sino-Indian border. In the United States, the Himalayan War was subsumed in what for the US was a much greater crisis in the Caribbean – the famous Cuban Missile Crisis. This two-week event is now immortalized in film (Thirteen Days in October) and books (Essence of Decision), and remains a case study for the understanding of international relations. What most Americans and Indians do not know is that at the same time President Kennedy created the famous ‘EXCOM’ (executive committee) of the highest ranking officials for discussion of Cuba, he simultaneously created a second committee of key officials at a slightly lower tier in the bureaucracy to consider options in the Sino-Indian conflict.
In the United States, crisis management became almost a cult phenomenon – studied intensely by businesses, policy-makers, and academics. The reason for this is simple. Crises provide a unique opportunity for officials to make decisions that matter. Those decisions are made under pressure – correct decisions must be made in a timely manner. The correctness of the decision is measurable, since the crisis either resolves satisfactorily (including, in some cases, a ‘win’) or it does not. Crises provide a benchmark for measuring executive performance at the highest level, under the greatest pressure, and often in circumstances of intense competition.
It would be a mistake to assume that the American fascination – some might say obsession – with crisis management is found in equal measure elsewhere in the world. Different states and regimes manage crises in different ways – each has its own particular style, resulting from its own history, traditions, and institutions. What is so interesting about the Indian case is how crisis management has evolved, since 1962, in such different ways from the US.
In India, especially in government, the style of decision-making is quite different from the United States. India has large, highly trained bureaucracies, but decision-making remains tightly centralized, hierarchical, and stovepiped. The Prime Minister and a handful of close advisors already make most of the major decisions in government – often in consultation, but the nature of Indian decision-making already vests enormous authority and routine responsibility in the hands of the very top leaders. This process of centralization, present since independence, has only accelerated since the 1970s. The small strategic enclave that dominated nuclear decision-making from 1947-1998 symbolizes this tightly-knit, highly centralized decision-making style. A crisis, which is a rare opportunity to act decisively for American executives, is very much ‘business as usual’ in the Indian system – with perhaps a slightly elevated sense of haste.
India’s inter-agency process is also unique. The Lok Sabha plays remarkably little role in national security or foreign affairs. The extraordinary influence of certain key institutions – the Ministry of External Affairs, Indian Administrative Service, and Defence Research and Development Organization (DRDO), to name a few – is not necessarily matched by an ability to coordinate across agencies or work cooperatively. Competition between ministries – the Ministry of Finance, DRDO, and the Ministry of Defence on matters of defence procurement – and between elements of the bureaucracy (Indian Foreign Service and Indian Administrative Service, for example) inhibits normal decision-making, and does not appear to decrease substantially in crisis.
Finally, India’s unique civil-military relationship creates an ambiguous impact on policy – in most periods, military influence is limited and tightly channelled into specific areas of professional expertise (tactics, operations, force structure, and certain elements of procurement). At times, however, particular Indian military leaders have been extremely influential or outspoken, creating points of dissonance in what otherwise appears to be a gradual evolution towards modest but greater military involvement in foreign policy matters.
Surprise is endemic to crisis, as friction is to warfare. What creates a crisis is at least in part a sense of psychological shock – the abrupt emergence of the unexpected. It is easy to blame intelligence agencies and professionals for failure to anticipate the unexpected, but this often unrealistic. Uncertainty is a fundamental factor in intelligence collection and interpretation. What is equally interesting is how intelligence adapts to crisis, how it is used, and how accurately it assesses second-order effects of the activities of the state.
Both Indian and Pakistani scholars and analysts routinely reassure Americans that the regional nuclear balance is stable, because both sides understand one another so well. The experience of the region since the mid-1980s, however, suggests that surprise and crisis have been endemic, at least in part because of intelligence failures based on significant misperception or over-confidence. From Surprise to Reckoning: The Kargil Review Committee Report devotes three chapters and several different sections on findings and recommendations to the inadequacy of India’s intelligence gathering efforts. The report makes a series of recommendations about both organizational changes and the need to provide greater redundancy in collection and assessment. Not all the recommendations have been acted upon – this is also the case with the American 9/11 Commission Report.
The inability to predict certain second-order effects in earlier crises is quite evident. In the Brasstacks crisis of 1986, for instance, there appears to have been no awareness in India that the nature of the later stages of the operation might create a crisis. A routine military exercise practising the dispersal and concealment of key strike elements in the Indian Air Force generated great alarm among both Pakistani and US analysts in 1984. Routine Indian Army exercises in both 1990 and 2008 were interpreted by Pakistan (rightly or wrongly) as aggressive or threatening in the midst of evolving crises. It remains unclear how much of India’s failed effort at coercion in 2001-2002 was the result of flawed intelligence assessments, and how much was simply the result of frustration and a lack of credible military options.
India’s intelligence agencies, particularly the Research and Analysis Wing (R&AW), have a historically close relationship with the office of the prime minister. As a result, during crises their output has been, increasingly, utilized for signalling purposes (see below). The Kargil Review Committee recognized the most spectacular coup of the 1999 conflict – the interception and subsequent publication of General Musharraf’s high-level telephone conversations. Indian intelligence has also been used for diplomatic purposes in 1971, to publicize Pakistan’s actions in what is now Bangladesh, and also in both the 2001-2002 and 2008 Mumbai attacks to indicate links to Pakistani intelligence agencies and support.
As mentioned above, Americans revel in crisis management at least in part because it allows executives to step out of their institutional role and consider and inform broader policy-making. Because of crises and more extended conflict experiences (especially Vietnam, and now Iraq), the United States is institutionalizing both jointness (coordination between military services) and inter-agency cooperation (between various government agencies). In the US system, influence depends not only on personalities, but also on resources, which makes the Department of Defense an extraordinarily powerful player in foreign policy.
The Indian system is evolving much more slowly towards joint and inter-agency cooperation and coordination. Barriers to information sharing are sometimes formidable, and do not appear to lift significantly in crisis. The IPKF mission (Operation Pawan) was hampered by inter-service issues – the Indian Navy now admits in its Indian Military Maritime Strategy that ‘…it often deposited the troops ashore in an unfit condition to fight.’ Sharing of intelligence between R&AW and the army in the Sri Lankan intervention has been criticized by some analysts. The MEA was at least partially excluded from the planning of Brasstacks, and was either unwilling or unable to provide insight into possible Pakistani reactions. The misreading at almost all levels of Pakistan’s response to India’s 1998 nuclear tests contributed to two successive crises – the first in the period just before Pakistan’s test, when Pakistani security responded to an anticipated (but non-existent) Indian pre-emptive strike, and later in Kargil.
The tensions in cooperation are only exacerbated by Indian civil-military relations. The role of the military, and particularly the army, is tightly regulated by Indian political leadership. At the same time, the army is by far the largest service, and the one with the greatest capacity in a wide range of contingencies. As a result, the establishment of joint and inter-agency coordinating bodies – the Integrated Defence Staff, or a National Security Council – has been complicated and, to date, incomplete. The response to the Mumbai attack suggests a range of obstacles to effective coordination.
Jointness and inter-agency cooperation thrive, however, in crisis circumstances in India that are non-competitive – the response to the tsunami in 2004-2005, in which joint planning played a critical part is an interesting example. The enormous difficulty the US had in managing the Hurricane Katrina disaster suggests a counterpoint – the US may be much less focused or adequate in organizing for natural disasters than in thinking about international crises. This may be a function of familiarity (the Indian Ocean is the scene of catastrophic natural disasters on a more regular basis than the continental US), of institutional competence and capability, or perhaps of institutional focus and organizational style.
A crucial element of crisis management is the use of communications and signalling. These tools allow governments to frame the nature of the problem for their own populations, to influence the international community, and most crucially to manage escalation and tension with the adversary, leading to a resolution of the crisis short of major war. These efforts can include not only official remarks and formalized bilateral communications channels, but also informal channels, ‘Track Two’ approaches (often through former officials), third-party diplomatic intervention, and the use of leaks to local and international media.
US analysts were particularly struck by the reluctance of both India and Pakistan to use a ‘hot line’ established between the two military headquarters during crises in the late Cold War period. The US had come to rely on these official channels for defusing potential crises, and for simply keeping the Soviets informed of potential surprises, during the Cold War. As the Indo-Pakistan relationship became more hostile and crisis-prone, primarily because of Pakistani support for a range of militants attempting to destabilize India, India’s use of signalling and communications evolved.
A major argument for more control in the process emerged during the Kargil conflict, when multiple Indian sources of varying levels of official influence made remarks about nuclear preparedness and strategy. These communications included belligerent statements from the RSS – which Pakistanis might have interpreted as much more ‘official’, given the BJP-led coalition government, than they actually were. Lack of control over nuclear signalling is an easy route to inadvertent escalation, and it is clear that during Operation Parakram the Indian government exercised more stringent control over the process. Track Two diplomatic efforts, at the time, apparently played some role in crisis management – although they were ultimately unsuccessful in creating a solution to the Kashmir issue.
An area where India has been particularly effective in influencing both domestic and international audiences has been the use of the well-placed intelligence release. The release of transcripts of telephone calls between Pakistani leaders during the Kargil crisis clearly delegitimized Pakistan’s spurious official story. Similarly, the leaking of some data about the terrorist attackers on 13 December 2001 made a profound impression on the US and the international community, and essentially confirmed the Pakistani origin of the attackers, if not the attack itself. Most recently, the release of a significant file on the Mumbai attack, and the continuing flow of information from the one captured terrorist, leave no doubt about the Pakistani origins of the attackers.
Given India’s centralized decision-making process, it is not surprising that executive leadership is crucial in crisis management. Various leaders have demonstrated somewhat different approaches – Indira Gandhi, for example, was opportunistic and Machiavellian in her exploitation of the 1971 crisis. Rajiv Gandhi also exhibited an opportunistic side in 1986 – perhaps from inexperience, perhaps from the unique influence of a pair of senior military and defence advisors, or perhaps out of a genuine desire to influence Pakistan before its nuclear capacity was actualized. Atal Bihari Vajpayee demonstrated both idealism after the nuclear tests and a frustrated (and entirely understandable) outrage during Kargil and Parakram. In each of the latter cases, however, belligerent rhetoric did not blossom into unconstrained military action. In response to individual terrorist acts, Vajpayee chose not to overreact to the Indian Airlines 814 hijacking incident in 1999, and Manmohan Singh showed enormous restraint over Mumbai.
Each of the crises with Pakistan has been a test of Indian policy, and of the utility of military force in managing its relationship with Pakistan. Because these crises have been nearly constant, averaging at least two per decade since the 1980s, they also constitute a referendum on the policies of particular governments and of the Indian leadership consensus on the Indo-Pakistani relationship. During and after each crisis, the existing Indian leadership must grapple with how tough a stance they wish to take, the role of military force, and how they wish to conduct diplomacy with Pakistan during and after the crisis. Each crisis provides plenty of ammunition for partisan critics and for those who believe India should take a far more antagonistic stance towards their western neighbour.
It is interesting, therefore, that the overall trend in Indian policy, reinforced through multiple crises with leaders from several different political parties and alliances, has been pragmatic and restrained. Some, especially in the United States, argue that this is attributable to the presence of nuclear weapons on both sides. Nuclear weapons undoubtedly play some role in Indian restraint, but do not explain some remarkable choices. PM Vajpayee, for example, had every reason not to conduct any kind of negotiations with General Musharraf once he took power, given Musharraf’s role in the Kargil conflict. He could easily have opted for something like a containment policy – an option that was frequently mentioned among Indian analysts and critics – given the woeful state of Pakistan’s economy, diplomatic relations (especially with the United States), and the ongoing militancy in Jammu and Kashmir. Rajiv Gandhi opted for ‘cricket diplomacy’ rather than Operation Trident. Manmohan Singh chose not to pressure Pakistan’s new and fragile democracy too fiercely, despite the viciousness of the Mumbai attacks. Each crisis, therefore, has contributed to the strengthening of an Indian tradition of watchful engagement with Pakistan, however unpleasant that may occasionally seem.
Responses to domestic crises, however, have led to considerable adaptation by leadership. The Bhopal disaster reversed Indo-US economic relations. The economic crisis of 1990-1991 led to a reassessment of India’s economic policy. Internal conflicts in Punjab and elsewhere, even when receiving foreign support, created opportunities to make significant changes in security policy and in the management of local politics. Internal crises, therefore, appear to provide opportunities for major policy innovation and response, in contrast to external crises which appear to reinforce a relatively consistent policy approach.
This makes, again, an interesting contrast with the American experience. Americans tend to focus on international crises, which then profoundly impact not only domestic elections but also overall policy. The Cuban missile crisis basically validated President Kennedy, and contributed to the landslide victory of President Johnson in 1964. The combination of the Iranian revolution (with associated hostage crisis) and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan doomed President Carter. Operation ‘Desert Fox’ nearly reached the level of comic relief in 1998, with both Iraq and the opposition Republican Party suggesting that President Clinton was attempting to distract the country from his domestic problems. The aftermath of that crisis included an under-resourced commitment by the Clinton administration to overthrow the regime of Saddam Hussein – a commitment which was pursued by his successor after 9/11, with profound effects on US international and domestic policy.
In one area, the response of both India and the US is similar. In both states, international crises tend to lead to temporary increases in military spending. India’s defence expenditures increased dramatically after both Kargil and Parakram – as did the US after the disasters of 1979. Again, India makes pragmatic choices after crises with Pakistan, including the reconsideration of the issue of limited war after Kargil, and the continued implementation of a new and more flexible ‘Cold Start’ army doctrine after Parakram.
Indian crisis management style, therefore, is not terribly dissimilar from general Indian governance – tightly centralized, risk-averse, and hierarchical in nature. India does learn from crises, but changes tend to be evolutionary rather than innovative. Continual crises with Pakistan are gradually changing the civil-military relationship, permitting greater military input into policy planning and crisis management, while still maintaining strict civilian control. Individual leaders are the most important factor in Indian crisis management efforts, but the overall Indian experience in crisis is one of gradual evolution and continuity. International crises do not generally result in dramatic policy shifts. Those tend to result from domestic crises, and are then reflected in electoral shifts.
Strategic partnerships
BORROWED from the discipline of organizational theory and business management, the term strategic partnership has come to define a number of diplomatic relationships the world over. Formal alliances are now thought to be passé. Scholars argue that the proliferation of strategic partnerships ‘reflects an international system in transition.’ They are better suited to increase bilateral, trilateral, or even multilateral cooperative efforts between nations to achieve common goals. They are thus, ‘goal-driven’ rather than ‘threat-driven’.1
Unlike formal alliances, strategic partnerships are not hierarchical or vertical structures marked by different levels of bindingness. They are not intended to develop into a confederation of states, where the lead actor, such as Russia in the Warsaw Pact, seeks to enjoy a position of influence that supersedes the authority of other member states. Instead, strategic partnerships represent a system of diplomatic engagement that is really a halfway house between maintaining friendly relations between select states and organizing those relationships under a framework that contributes to furthering mutually beneficial ties. These ties or contracts might not always be cost free, but are created keeping the partners’ national and sovereign strategic objectives in mind.
The few scholars who have written about the distinctive qualities of a strategic partnership are of the view that this is a relatively new phenomenon. However, in India’s case, while the rhetoric of ‘strategic partnership’ might have been evoked only at the turn of the 21st century, its conceptual underpinning – engagement minus the drawbacks of alliance commitments in terms of curtailing the freedom of action and thought – is hardly new.
Until the end of the Cold War, India remained, by necessity, cautious about entering partnerships with other states. The distinct feature of a strategic ‘partnership’ is that it is a joint venture between equals. It is not necessary that equality means maintaining a fifty-fifty balance of political influence, but that the partnering states understand this dynamic. For the first two decades of the Cold War, neither the USSR nor the United States were either willing, or in a position to appreciate that other, smaller states were equal in status. Hence, rather astutely, Nehru remained cautious when dealing with both the blocks.
In the post Cold War period, while India, like many nation states around her, explored options in a de-camped international system, it was not until the turn of the century that India had decided to actively pursue the strategy of engaging everyone. Global engagement was the new mantra. India no longer needed to be too concerned about being treated unequally. Unlike Pakistan or Japan, India had spent over forty years developing her economy and military without having to depend on a third actor for the sake of survival. Barring Nehru’s appeal for arms from the US and later the UK towards the end of the 1962 debacle with China, Indian foreign policy had remained as independent as a post-colonial nation like India could afford it to be.
With a view to further expanding the conceptual as well as empirical understanding of strategic partnerships, this article puts forward two arguments. First, in response to scholars who claim that strategic partnerships are a fairly new phenomenon, the article argues that this ‘new’ phenomenon has to be understood in context. For nations that entered into formal alliances or mutual security pacts during the Cold War, such as the US with Japan or the USSR with the United Arab Republic (UAR), the non-binding aspect of a strategic partnership might be seen as something new and attractive. However, for nations like India, which remained cautious of formal alliances and their supposed benefits, strategic partnerships are nothing new.
To illustrate this point, the article will briefly discuss the 1971 Soviet-Indian Treaty of Friendship, arguably India’s first meaningful strategic partnership, which many have wrongly dubbed as an alliance. The so-called new rules of the game inherent in a strategic partnership are those that India embraced even before the Cold War ended. Embedded in this are lessons which have wider implications for contemporary Indian foreign policy.
Second, the article goes on to look at the several types of strategic partnerships India’s global engagement strategy has led her to forge. In particular, it will look at the partnership with the US. It will focus on President Obama’s attempt to construct a ‘Regional Strategy for South Asia’ in 2009. This brief case study focuses on India’s strategic behaviour having entered into a strategic partnership with the US. It demonstrates that a strategic partnership is not a strategic alliance masquerading behind diplomatic rhetoric. The differences are not merely semantic, but indeed very real.
In writing about strategic partnerships, scholars have propounded a misleading idea that strategic partnerships are a phenomenon intrinsic to the post-Cold War period, and more specifically the 21st century. In their analysis, the division into ideological camps disallowed any form of engagement to be non-hierarchical. However, rather than a new phenomenon, the nature of the partnership between nations is more often than not mandated by historical experiences and the tensions inherent in domestic political cultures. This is important because at some level, every nation remains hostage to its particular national and strategic narrative, which informs its current and future strategic behaviour.
For instance, in the case of Germany and Japan, entering into less binding strategic partnerships is domestically feasible, and strategically preferable. The populations of both nations have experienced extreme militarism, have had little choice but to enter into a binding alliance with the US, and now seem to view strategic partnerships as an enviable system of diplomatic engagement. Their national narrative supports entering into such partnerships, which while far less hierarchical, provides ample opportunity to engage likeminded nations.
In India’s case, the national narrative is outlined by an intellectual resistance to any form of dominance. An extreme sense of independence, not even shared by other post-colonial states like Pakistan and Egypt (which ironically stood at the forefront of the non-alignment movement) has for long determined Indian strategic behaviour. The 1971 treaty with the USSR is a prime example of a strategic partnership forged during the Cold War and in its history are lessons that need to be kept in mind in the present time. The chief lesson is that on the one hand, nations that have participated in hierarchical diplomatic arrangements in the past, either by choice (Australia and New Zealand in 1952) or forcibly (Japan and Germany post 1945), will have greater domestic and elite support to enter into strategic partnerships in the present or the near future. On the other hand, nations like India that have resisted formal alliances in the past and instead, have for long embraced the conceptual underpinnings of a strategic partnership risk finding it harder to ‘sell’ these partnerships as they evolve.
On 9 August 1971, India and the USSR signed a Treaty of Peace, Friendship and Cooperation. Article IX of the Treaty came to be read as the most controversial, as it essentially implied that at a time of conflict, Soviet assistance to India was not guaranteed, but highly probable. The treaty was designed to deter hostile intentions of any other actor, within or outside of the South Asian region.
The treaty was signed at a time when India’s foreign policy elite argued that India required a diplomatic shield in the event of Indian military activism in East Pakistan, now Bangladesh. In a meeting on 29 April 1971, Indira Gandhi was told that any military adventurism by India could potentially invite the wrath of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA). In addition, Henry Kissinger had sent mixed signals to Indian leaders regarding US’ response in case of Chinese aggression.
While it served as a diplomatic shield, the treaty in no way hindered India’s sovereign right to make decisions. It was non-binding, non-hierarchical, and unlike the Soviet treaty with the UAR, it did not mandate either actor to militarily intervene in case of a conflict with a third party. In fact, on India’s insistence, Article IV of the treaty made clear that this formal relationship would not impinge upon Indian non-alignment.
The generally accepted British and American interpretations of the USSR’s motives for going ahead with the treaty in 1971 indicate that the Soviet leadership had actually believed that it could restrain India. British diplomats argued that the ‘Russians had been extremely worried about the "smell of war" in the air and had been anxious to take some practical measure to defuse the situation.’ For them, ‘the treaty had greatly reduced the chances of conflict in the coming months.’
Unwilling and unable to convince the Indians otherwise, by the beginning of November, Chairman Alexei Kosygin seemed to have understood that India would not be swayed by external advice. New Delhi would make its own foreign policy related decisions, based on its own calculations. Eventually, this is exactly what India did. Having negotiated a diplomatic shield, India found it relatively easy to intervene in East Pakistan.
Notwithstanding that the treaty was mostly accepted by India’s political elite because it was signed in the backdrop of war with Pakistan, two conditions supported its general acceptance. First, Indira Gandhi understood that foreign policy can be made hostage to domestic politics. She waited till the 1971 election, when she received a landslide majority, before going ahead with a treaty that had first been discussed in 1969. Foreign policy might be argued to be a product of elite politics, but elite politics is highly disaggregated. Indira Gandhi appreciated this, and it allowed for a treaty to be signed minus the political bickering evidenced in the passage of the recently concluded ‘N’ deal with the US.
Further, the treaty was sold to both India’s domestic audience as well as to foreign diplomats as a reaction to a potential US-Pakistan-China alignment, which did not impinge on Indian non-alignment. In fact, T.N. Kaul, the Foreign Secretary, and Swaran Singh, the Foreign Minister, made it their mission to convince the world that Indian foreign policy remained as independent as before. There also seemed to have been a coordinated effort between Moscow and New Delhi not to cross each others path in their respective strategic communications. Nothing was taken for granted.
In 1971, foreign policy decisions were contested but yet more or less monopolised by a single party. Currently, relatively smaller regional actors play a far more integral role in the policy debate, even if this might be more because of reasons extraneous to the issue at hand. It is imperative that India’s current leaders appreciate this dynamic better. The political fiasco over the debates on the ‘N’ deal might serve as a reminder that foreign policy is no longer the mandate of a single political organization. The so-called ‘other’ parties are becoming increasingly important, and will continue to be so. For ideological, political, and sometimes simply selfish reasons, foreign policy issues will increasingly become hostage to domestic arm wrestling matches. This is an inherent disadvantage, but a reality that needs to be better understood.
Keeping in mind the above-mentioned conditions, in the past decade, since entering into strategic partnerships in the post-Cold War period, India has done well to retain the ability to say ‘no’. The following part of this article reflects on how India has managed its diplomatic affairs once in a strategic partnership. It seeks to counter the premise that a partnership is more or less the same as an alliance.
In the past nine years, India has entered into strategic partnerships with, amongst others, the European Union, US, UK, France, Iran, Germany, Japan, Australia, Singapore, and Nigeria. Most of these partnerships began with the issuance of a joint statement, leading to the signing of bilateral agreements and memorandums of understanding (MoU). In each of these cases, the idea was to multiply bilateral agreements with potential partners ranging from increasing cultural ties to signing MoUs on defence cooperation efforts and intensifying trade agreements. Of these partnerships, the most politically explosive is that between India and the US.
In March 2000, during President Clinton’s visit to India, the leaders of both countries pledged to ‘deepen the India-American relationship in tangible ways.’ A year later, President Bush decided to take this relationship to a whole different level. His National Security Strategy report of September 2002 made his intentions clear. It simply stated: ‘US interests require a strong relationship with India.’ The American President had taken a personal interest in India, and by 2004, its new Prime Minister, Manmohan Singh. The US and India initiated a series of dialogues under the rubric of the ‘Next Steps in Strategic Partnership’. The purpose was to expand the strategic partnership to include cooperation in what came to be called the ‘trinity areas’, therefore easing restrictions on the export to India of dual-use high technology goods (including those with military applications), civilian nuclear and civilian space cooperation.
By 2005, the strategic partnership had taken on a significant defence dynamic. India and the US signed a ten year defence pact, and a year later they entered into a maritime security cooperation agreement. Currently, Indian and US military exercises include air exercises, the annual Malabar naval exercises (which in 2008, unlike in previous years were conducted bilaterally); and special forces ‘Vajra Prahar’ joint exercises, with a high number of US servicemen having attended the Indian Counter-Insurgency Jungle Warfare School. For the first time in India’s defence procurement history, US systems and platforms have been entered into Indian tenders. Most notable are the fighters in the bid for 126 medium multi-role combat aircraft. India has also purchased a decommissioned US amphibious dock, now the second largest in the Indian Navy, as well as maritime surveillance aircraft, military transport aircraft, aircraft self-protection systems, and counter-battery radars.
However, it is outside of the defence arena that the benefits of the strategic partnership are fully realized. Without going into the now much publicised details, suffice it to state that the civil nuclear cooperation agreement with the US, finally passed by the Indian government and the US Congress in the last quarter of 2008, has gone a long way to cement ties between what are often referred to as the world’s two largest democracies. The nuclear deal and increased defence cooperation has led some to argue that the partnership is really an alliance, which has curtailed India’s independent foreign policy. The last part of this article alludes briefly to a recent case study: India’s response to a US designed ‘Regional Strategy for South Asia’. The intent is to make the point that much like in 1971, India’s negotiations with another actor, and the cementing of ties has done little to influence India’s ability to make independent decisions. India retains the ability to say ‘no’ without incurring a notable cost to the partnership.
On 22 January 2009, only two days after being sworn in, Obama officially named Richard Holbrooke – who negotiated the Dayton accords in 1995 – ‘Special Representative to Afghanistan and Pakistan’. He was apparently supposed to have been named the ‘Special Representative to Afghanistan, Pakistan, and India’ but the Indian government lobbied hard to make sure that India was kept outside of Holbrooke’s brief. His ensuing trip in February to India, along with Pakistan and Afghanistan, was subsequently dubbed as a ‘listening trip’.
Holbrooke’s lighter credentials notwithstanding, there is clear evidence that the Obama administration is keen that India and Pakistan engage in some discussion on Kashmir. During his election campaign, Obama argued that India and Pakistan should ‘try to resolve the Kashmir crisis so that [Pakistan] can stay focused not on India, but on the situation with those militants [camped on the border with Afghanistan].’
The logic, at least for this US administration, is fairly simple. If India began a series of discussions on Kashmir, similar perhaps to the series of dialogues led by Z.A. Bhutto and Swaran Singh in 1962-1963, then Pakistan would feel more confident about relocating a bulk of its troop formations from the border with India to that with Afghanistan. This is undoubtedly one of Pakistan’s demands. Those close to Obama have touted this line since 2005. Kashmir lies at the centre of their regional strategy designed to take-on the Taliban in the Federally Administered Tribal Areas of Pakistan, who continue to severely compromise US, UK, Dutch, and Canadian efforts to ‘stabilise’ southern and eastern Afghanistan.
The merits and demerits of this policy aside, India’s response to the Obama approach provides key indicators on how India manages strategic partnerships. Contrary to the view that the nuclear deal has made India diplomatically vulnerable, the Indian government made it abundantly clear that it will not dance to the Obama tune. This is especially important when President Obama was expected by almost all analysts, some within his own coterie, to renegotiate the ‘N’ deal and even nudge India to sign the controversial Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty (CTBT). If India was in a muted alliance with the US, would not she be expected to have behaved differently? For the sake of argument, if the Indian government’s opposition to the suggestion that Kashmir should be discussed was nothing but a public relations campaign, would this not backfire when such negotiations did take place? Something as explosive as the ‘K’ word is not a secret that can be concealed from public scrutiny.
Here again, it is important to keep in mind that the Indian government’s position has been in keeping with the national narrative. In 1962-1963, when President Kennedy tried to use Kashmir as leverage against providing arms to deter the Chinese, the strategy simply did not work. Kennedy eventually wrote to Harold Macmillan, his co-conspirator that ‘Nehru is unlikely to settle Kashmir with too obvious a gun at his back.’ If Nehru, under the threat of a Chinese offensive in the spring of 1963 was unwilling to allow Kashmir to be used as bait for arms, then common sense suggests that India today will not discuss Kashmir, and this with not too obvious a gun at its back.
As stated earlier, strategic partnerships have to be approached in context. India’s national context or narrative makes a fairly clear case: this is a nation that has, is, and perhaps will continue to negotiate partnerships cautiously, tilting the cost-benefit equilibrium to its advantage. Those who have dealt with India – diplomats and international negotiators – understand this dynamic all too well. Negotiating non-binding contracts comes fairly naturally to India’s foreign policy elite. However, as a word of caution, this natural advantage will hold well only as long as India has something to offer the world. Luckily for India, her strategic position, market size, democratic credentials, non-militarised political society, and comparatively healthy civil-military relations will make her the preferred choice for at least some time to come.
Unlike formal alliances, strategic partnerships are not hierarchical or vertical structures marked by different levels of bindingness. They are not intended to develop into a confederation of states, where the lead actor, such as Russia in the Warsaw Pact, seeks to enjoy a position of influence that supersedes the authority of other member states. Instead, strategic partnerships represent a system of diplomatic engagement that is really a halfway house between maintaining friendly relations between select states and organizing those relationships under a framework that contributes to furthering mutually beneficial ties. These ties or contracts might not always be cost free, but are created keeping the partners’ national and sovereign strategic objectives in mind.
The few scholars who have written about the distinctive qualities of a strategic partnership are of the view that this is a relatively new phenomenon. However, in India’s case, while the rhetoric of ‘strategic partnership’ might have been evoked only at the turn of the 21st century, its conceptual underpinning – engagement minus the drawbacks of alliance commitments in terms of curtailing the freedom of action and thought – is hardly new.
Until the end of the Cold War, India remained, by necessity, cautious about entering partnerships with other states. The distinct feature of a strategic ‘partnership’ is that it is a joint venture between equals. It is not necessary that equality means maintaining a fifty-fifty balance of political influence, but that the partnering states understand this dynamic. For the first two decades of the Cold War, neither the USSR nor the United States were either willing, or in a position to appreciate that other, smaller states were equal in status. Hence, rather astutely, Nehru remained cautious when dealing with both the blocks.
In the post Cold War period, while India, like many nation states around her, explored options in a de-camped international system, it was not until the turn of the century that India had decided to actively pursue the strategy of engaging everyone. Global engagement was the new mantra. India no longer needed to be too concerned about being treated unequally. Unlike Pakistan or Japan, India had spent over forty years developing her economy and military without having to depend on a third actor for the sake of survival. Barring Nehru’s appeal for arms from the US and later the UK towards the end of the 1962 debacle with China, Indian foreign policy had remained as independent as a post-colonial nation like India could afford it to be.
With a view to further expanding the conceptual as well as empirical understanding of strategic partnerships, this article puts forward two arguments. First, in response to scholars who claim that strategic partnerships are a fairly new phenomenon, the article argues that this ‘new’ phenomenon has to be understood in context. For nations that entered into formal alliances or mutual security pacts during the Cold War, such as the US with Japan or the USSR with the United Arab Republic (UAR), the non-binding aspect of a strategic partnership might be seen as something new and attractive. However, for nations like India, which remained cautious of formal alliances and their supposed benefits, strategic partnerships are nothing new.
To illustrate this point, the article will briefly discuss the 1971 Soviet-Indian Treaty of Friendship, arguably India’s first meaningful strategic partnership, which many have wrongly dubbed as an alliance. The so-called new rules of the game inherent in a strategic partnership are those that India embraced even before the Cold War ended. Embedded in this are lessons which have wider implications for contemporary Indian foreign policy.
Second, the article goes on to look at the several types of strategic partnerships India’s global engagement strategy has led her to forge. In particular, it will look at the partnership with the US. It will focus on President Obama’s attempt to construct a ‘Regional Strategy for South Asia’ in 2009. This brief case study focuses on India’s strategic behaviour having entered into a strategic partnership with the US. It demonstrates that a strategic partnership is not a strategic alliance masquerading behind diplomatic rhetoric. The differences are not merely semantic, but indeed very real.
In writing about strategic partnerships, scholars have propounded a misleading idea that strategic partnerships are a phenomenon intrinsic to the post-Cold War period, and more specifically the 21st century. In their analysis, the division into ideological camps disallowed any form of engagement to be non-hierarchical. However, rather than a new phenomenon, the nature of the partnership between nations is more often than not mandated by historical experiences and the tensions inherent in domestic political cultures. This is important because at some level, every nation remains hostage to its particular national and strategic narrative, which informs its current and future strategic behaviour.
For instance, in the case of Germany and Japan, entering into less binding strategic partnerships is domestically feasible, and strategically preferable. The populations of both nations have experienced extreme militarism, have had little choice but to enter into a binding alliance with the US, and now seem to view strategic partnerships as an enviable system of diplomatic engagement. Their national narrative supports entering into such partnerships, which while far less hierarchical, provides ample opportunity to engage likeminded nations.
In India’s case, the national narrative is outlined by an intellectual resistance to any form of dominance. An extreme sense of independence, not even shared by other post-colonial states like Pakistan and Egypt (which ironically stood at the forefront of the non-alignment movement) has for long determined Indian strategic behaviour. The 1971 treaty with the USSR is a prime example of a strategic partnership forged during the Cold War and in its history are lessons that need to be kept in mind in the present time. The chief lesson is that on the one hand, nations that have participated in hierarchical diplomatic arrangements in the past, either by choice (Australia and New Zealand in 1952) or forcibly (Japan and Germany post 1945), will have greater domestic and elite support to enter into strategic partnerships in the present or the near future. On the other hand, nations like India that have resisted formal alliances in the past and instead, have for long embraced the conceptual underpinnings of a strategic partnership risk finding it harder to ‘sell’ these partnerships as they evolve.
On 9 August 1971, India and the USSR signed a Treaty of Peace, Friendship and Cooperation. Article IX of the Treaty came to be read as the most controversial, as it essentially implied that at a time of conflict, Soviet assistance to India was not guaranteed, but highly probable. The treaty was designed to deter hostile intentions of any other actor, within or outside of the South Asian region.
The treaty was signed at a time when India’s foreign policy elite argued that India required a diplomatic shield in the event of Indian military activism in East Pakistan, now Bangladesh. In a meeting on 29 April 1971, Indira Gandhi was told that any military adventurism by India could potentially invite the wrath of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA). In addition, Henry Kissinger had sent mixed signals to Indian leaders regarding US’ response in case of Chinese aggression.
While it served as a diplomatic shield, the treaty in no way hindered India’s sovereign right to make decisions. It was non-binding, non-hierarchical, and unlike the Soviet treaty with the UAR, it did not mandate either actor to militarily intervene in case of a conflict with a third party. In fact, on India’s insistence, Article IV of the treaty made clear that this formal relationship would not impinge upon Indian non-alignment.
The generally accepted British and American interpretations of the USSR’s motives for going ahead with the treaty in 1971 indicate that the Soviet leadership had actually believed that it could restrain India. British diplomats argued that the ‘Russians had been extremely worried about the "smell of war" in the air and had been anxious to take some practical measure to defuse the situation.’ For them, ‘the treaty had greatly reduced the chances of conflict in the coming months.’
Unwilling and unable to convince the Indians otherwise, by the beginning of November, Chairman Alexei Kosygin seemed to have understood that India would not be swayed by external advice. New Delhi would make its own foreign policy related decisions, based on its own calculations. Eventually, this is exactly what India did. Having negotiated a diplomatic shield, India found it relatively easy to intervene in East Pakistan.
Notwithstanding that the treaty was mostly accepted by India’s political elite because it was signed in the backdrop of war with Pakistan, two conditions supported its general acceptance. First, Indira Gandhi understood that foreign policy can be made hostage to domestic politics. She waited till the 1971 election, when she received a landslide majority, before going ahead with a treaty that had first been discussed in 1969. Foreign policy might be argued to be a product of elite politics, but elite politics is highly disaggregated. Indira Gandhi appreciated this, and it allowed for a treaty to be signed minus the political bickering evidenced in the passage of the recently concluded ‘N’ deal with the US.
Further, the treaty was sold to both India’s domestic audience as well as to foreign diplomats as a reaction to a potential US-Pakistan-China alignment, which did not impinge on Indian non-alignment. In fact, T.N. Kaul, the Foreign Secretary, and Swaran Singh, the Foreign Minister, made it their mission to convince the world that Indian foreign policy remained as independent as before. There also seemed to have been a coordinated effort between Moscow and New Delhi not to cross each others path in their respective strategic communications. Nothing was taken for granted.
In 1971, foreign policy decisions were contested but yet more or less monopolised by a single party. Currently, relatively smaller regional actors play a far more integral role in the policy debate, even if this might be more because of reasons extraneous to the issue at hand. It is imperative that India’s current leaders appreciate this dynamic better. The political fiasco over the debates on the ‘N’ deal might serve as a reminder that foreign policy is no longer the mandate of a single political organization. The so-called ‘other’ parties are becoming increasingly important, and will continue to be so. For ideological, political, and sometimes simply selfish reasons, foreign policy issues will increasingly become hostage to domestic arm wrestling matches. This is an inherent disadvantage, but a reality that needs to be better understood.
Keeping in mind the above-mentioned conditions, in the past decade, since entering into strategic partnerships in the post-Cold War period, India has done well to retain the ability to say ‘no’. The following part of this article reflects on how India has managed its diplomatic affairs once in a strategic partnership. It seeks to counter the premise that a partnership is more or less the same as an alliance.
In the past nine years, India has entered into strategic partnerships with, amongst others, the European Union, US, UK, France, Iran, Germany, Japan, Australia, Singapore, and Nigeria. Most of these partnerships began with the issuance of a joint statement, leading to the signing of bilateral agreements and memorandums of understanding (MoU). In each of these cases, the idea was to multiply bilateral agreements with potential partners ranging from increasing cultural ties to signing MoUs on defence cooperation efforts and intensifying trade agreements. Of these partnerships, the most politically explosive is that between India and the US.
In March 2000, during President Clinton’s visit to India, the leaders of both countries pledged to ‘deepen the India-American relationship in tangible ways.’ A year later, President Bush decided to take this relationship to a whole different level. His National Security Strategy report of September 2002 made his intentions clear. It simply stated: ‘US interests require a strong relationship with India.’ The American President had taken a personal interest in India, and by 2004, its new Prime Minister, Manmohan Singh. The US and India initiated a series of dialogues under the rubric of the ‘Next Steps in Strategic Partnership’. The purpose was to expand the strategic partnership to include cooperation in what came to be called the ‘trinity areas’, therefore easing restrictions on the export to India of dual-use high technology goods (including those with military applications), civilian nuclear and civilian space cooperation.
By 2005, the strategic partnership had taken on a significant defence dynamic. India and the US signed a ten year defence pact, and a year later they entered into a maritime security cooperation agreement. Currently, Indian and US military exercises include air exercises, the annual Malabar naval exercises (which in 2008, unlike in previous years were conducted bilaterally); and special forces ‘Vajra Prahar’ joint exercises, with a high number of US servicemen having attended the Indian Counter-Insurgency Jungle Warfare School. For the first time in India’s defence procurement history, US systems and platforms have been entered into Indian tenders. Most notable are the fighters in the bid for 126 medium multi-role combat aircraft. India has also purchased a decommissioned US amphibious dock, now the second largest in the Indian Navy, as well as maritime surveillance aircraft, military transport aircraft, aircraft self-protection systems, and counter-battery radars.
However, it is outside of the defence arena that the benefits of the strategic partnership are fully realized. Without going into the now much publicised details, suffice it to state that the civil nuclear cooperation agreement with the US, finally passed by the Indian government and the US Congress in the last quarter of 2008, has gone a long way to cement ties between what are often referred to as the world’s two largest democracies. The nuclear deal and increased defence cooperation has led some to argue that the partnership is really an alliance, which has curtailed India’s independent foreign policy. The last part of this article alludes briefly to a recent case study: India’s response to a US designed ‘Regional Strategy for South Asia’. The intent is to make the point that much like in 1971, India’s negotiations with another actor, and the cementing of ties has done little to influence India’s ability to make independent decisions. India retains the ability to say ‘no’ without incurring a notable cost to the partnership.
On 22 January 2009, only two days after being sworn in, Obama officially named Richard Holbrooke – who negotiated the Dayton accords in 1995 – ‘Special Representative to Afghanistan and Pakistan’. He was apparently supposed to have been named the ‘Special Representative to Afghanistan, Pakistan, and India’ but the Indian government lobbied hard to make sure that India was kept outside of Holbrooke’s brief. His ensuing trip in February to India, along with Pakistan and Afghanistan, was subsequently dubbed as a ‘listening trip’.
Holbrooke’s lighter credentials notwithstanding, there is clear evidence that the Obama administration is keen that India and Pakistan engage in some discussion on Kashmir. During his election campaign, Obama argued that India and Pakistan should ‘try to resolve the Kashmir crisis so that [Pakistan] can stay focused not on India, but on the situation with those militants [camped on the border with Afghanistan].’
The logic, at least for this US administration, is fairly simple. If India began a series of discussions on Kashmir, similar perhaps to the series of dialogues led by Z.A. Bhutto and Swaran Singh in 1962-1963, then Pakistan would feel more confident about relocating a bulk of its troop formations from the border with India to that with Afghanistan. This is undoubtedly one of Pakistan’s demands. Those close to Obama have touted this line since 2005. Kashmir lies at the centre of their regional strategy designed to take-on the Taliban in the Federally Administered Tribal Areas of Pakistan, who continue to severely compromise US, UK, Dutch, and Canadian efforts to ‘stabilise’ southern and eastern Afghanistan.
The merits and demerits of this policy aside, India’s response to the Obama approach provides key indicators on how India manages strategic partnerships. Contrary to the view that the nuclear deal has made India diplomatically vulnerable, the Indian government made it abundantly clear that it will not dance to the Obama tune. This is especially important when President Obama was expected by almost all analysts, some within his own coterie, to renegotiate the ‘N’ deal and even nudge India to sign the controversial Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty (CTBT). If India was in a muted alliance with the US, would not she be expected to have behaved differently? For the sake of argument, if the Indian government’s opposition to the suggestion that Kashmir should be discussed was nothing but a public relations campaign, would this not backfire when such negotiations did take place? Something as explosive as the ‘K’ word is not a secret that can be concealed from public scrutiny.
Here again, it is important to keep in mind that the Indian government’s position has been in keeping with the national narrative. In 1962-1963, when President Kennedy tried to use Kashmir as leverage against providing arms to deter the Chinese, the strategy simply did not work. Kennedy eventually wrote to Harold Macmillan, his co-conspirator that ‘Nehru is unlikely to settle Kashmir with too obvious a gun at his back.’ If Nehru, under the threat of a Chinese offensive in the spring of 1963 was unwilling to allow Kashmir to be used as bait for arms, then common sense suggests that India today will not discuss Kashmir, and this with not too obvious a gun at its back.
As stated earlier, strategic partnerships have to be approached in context. India’s national context or narrative makes a fairly clear case: this is a nation that has, is, and perhaps will continue to negotiate partnerships cautiously, tilting the cost-benefit equilibrium to its advantage. Those who have dealt with India – diplomats and international negotiators – understand this dynamic all too well. Negotiating non-binding contracts comes fairly naturally to India’s foreign policy elite. However, as a word of caution, this natural advantage will hold well only as long as India has something to offer the world. Luckily for India, her strategic position, market size, democratic credentials, non-militarised political society, and comparatively healthy civil-military relations will make her the preferred choice for at least some time to come.
Friday, August 7, 2009
G20: The 'trillion' dollar magic trick
To great fanfare, the G20 announced a US $1.1 trillion global package, which will actually deliver less than half that amount in new or guaranteed resources. Meanwhile issues of fundamental economic reform were left off the agenda.
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19 April 2009 - The G20 meeting on 2 April, billed as the London Summit 2009 because of its inclusion of non-G20 players, captured positive media attention despite failing to set out a vision for transformative economic change, and pumping more money into the IMF and World Bank without a clear plan for reforming them.
Where did the 'trillion' go?
The IMF received most of the boost, with a possible $500 billion in new resources and $250 billion in issuances of Special Drawing Rights (SDRs). Of the $500 billion, only half has been signed and sealed, the vast majority of which had been previously announced: $100 billion from Japan in January and the same amount from the EU in March. Most of the new $50bn comes from China - a small drop in its vast ocean of reserves, indicating that it continues to be reluctant to back the International Financial Institutions (IFIs) financially without real governance reform. The second tranche of $250 billion only exists as a G20 promise to find the extra cash, and to make "substantial progress" in doing so by April's spring meetings.
The other massive increase in IMF resources was through an allocation of Special Drawing Rights (SDRs), the IMF's own internally created reserve asset. An SDR allocation effectively means printing new money, $100 billion of which will go to "emerging market and developing countries". Unlike other forms of finance, SDRs come without conditions attached, but a country must still pay interest when it uses them. As SDRs are allocated according to voting shares at the IMF, the majority will go to rich countries.
On new money for the multilateral deveopment banks (MDBs), the language is particularly hazy. The G20 agrees only to "support" additional annual lending by the MDBs of $100 billion per year. Some of this, such as a boost to IFC trade financing, is money already promised. Some is supposed to come from existing MDB resources. Some will come from a 200 per cent boost to the Asian Development Bank's capital, and consideration of similar moves for the Inter-American Development Bank and the African Development Bank.
World Bank attempts to garner additional contributions for their 'vulnerability' funds were snubbed, with the G20 making clear that these would only be delivered bilaterally from willing donors. So far, the UK is the only country to make concrete commitments - diverting £200 million of its existing aid budget for this purpose. The G20 also asked the Bank to increase lending limits for "large countries" and to lend at market rates to low income countries, but only those with "sustainable debt positions and sound policies."
Money for the poorest?
Big increases in IMF resources have not been matched with clear commitments to end the controversial austerity policies that have so far accompanied IMF bailout packages.
• IMF: The rich world's viceroy
• Market fundamentalism
Of the putative $1.1 trillion, $50 billion, or less than 5 per cent, is likely to be for the 49 poorest countries in the world. The communique does not give clear details of how this figure is arrived at. Brussels based NGO, Eurodad estimates that, in addition to $6 billion (over three years) from IMF gold sales that will be added to the IMF's concessional lending pot, $19 billion in new money will come from the SDR allocation. The communique also calls for a doubling of the IMF's concessional lending capacity, currently at about $20 billion. That means that most of the total is IMF loans, which are only available if poor countries' economies go into meltdown.
The detail on the promised "global effort to ensure the availability of at least $250 billion of trade finance over the next two years" is entirely absent from the communique. However, the IFC - the private sector lending arm of the World Bank - is already angling for a slice of this cash for its new global trade lliquidity programme. Most of the rest is likely to funds provided by export credit agencies, which have been heavily criticised for a host of issues, including focussing their support on the arms industry. The communique's commitment to meet existing aid pledges obviously meant more to some G20 countries than others. Italy, the current host of the G8, plans to cut its aid by 55 per cent this year.
Elephants in the room: governance and conditionality
The G20 communique says nothing new on IFI governance reform, and big increases in IMF resources have not been matched with clear commitments to end the controversial austerity policies that have so far accompanied IMF bailout packages.
Changes to voting shares to give developing economies "greater voice and representation" are promised in general but the annex appears to backtrack on IMF reform. The existing plan for Bank governance reforms by the 2010 Spring Meetings for the World Bank is reconfirmed, but on the Fund, the annex indicates that the slightly accelerated quota review may not address the democratic deficit or governance imbalance but will be undertaken "to ensure the IMF's finances are on a sustainable footing".
Critics remain concerned that lessons from the Asian financial crisis a decade ago have not been learned, where IMF conditions were blamed for worsening recessions. Duncan Green of Oxfam said: "We have deep concerns about how central the IMF has become in this crisis. The fund has been given a blank cheque but its reform remains no more than a promise."
Financial reform: does it have teeth?
Campaigning NGOs and continental European governments had pushed the issue of tax havens to the fore in the run up to the summit. The UK, itself a sponsor of many of the world's most famous tax havens including the Cayman Islands and Jersey, had picked up the rhetoric.
The G20 decided to endorse the OECD approach of exchanging information about companies and individuals suspected of evading taxes on request, rather than the more stringent automatic exchange of information called for by the Tax Justice Network and others. There was no mention of measures that could help developing countries crack down on corporate tax abuse: country-by-country financial reporting or requiring transparency of all information on beneficial ownership in all jurisdictions.
The fanfare surrounding a supposed 'blacklist' of non-cooperative countries published on the day of the summit by the OECD went silent when it emerged that only four countries were on the list - Uruguay, the Philippines, the Malaysian Federal Territory of Labuan, and Costa Rica - none of them well known tax havens. Further confusion followed when even these four were removed, leaving no countries in the OECD's worst category. The strong rhetoric - declaring that "the era of banking secrecy is over" and promising to "stand ready to deploy sanctions" - has yet to be turned into effective action.
As promised by the G20 finance ministers in March the Financial Stability Forum will be expanded to include all G20 countries, and renamed the Financial Stability Board (FSB). It will continue to have a purely advisory role to; "promote co-ordination"; "assess vulnerabilities affecting the financial system" and "set guidelines". With no specific powers or sanctions available to it, and a lack of a clear governance structure, it remains to be seen whether the new board will be an improvement on the old forum.
On banking regulation, a topic that has dominated headlines in the run up to the summit, surprisingly little concrete was agreed, though international bodies are tasked with looking further into a host of issues. International minimum capital requirements will remain unchanged "until recovery is assured" and the often criticised Basel II capital framework supported. The existing 'toxic assets' in banks remain a huge problem, but one that has been left to national regulators to fix.
The fund has been given a blank cheque but its reform remains no more than a promise.
• IMF: The rich world's viceroy
• Market fundamentalism
In his post-summit press conference, British Prime Minister Gordon Brown repeated his assertion that the 'shadow banking system' would be brought into "the global regulatory net", but the language of the communique is far more cautious - "systematically important financial institutions, markets, and instruments" should be subject to an "appropriate degree of regulation and oversight."
The FSB and IMF are tasked with deciding what "systematically important" means. Many hedge funds and private equity firms may continue to escape the regulatory net, especially those formally headquartered in off-shore financial centres. Hedge fund and credit rating agency "registration" is promised, and credit derivatives markets will be "standardised," but it is left to the industry itself to decide how to do this.
Missing the green picture
Green groups slammed the G20 for failing to grasp the opportunity to signal a clear commitment to building a low-carbon economy. The communique promises to "make best possible use" of stimulus packages "towards the goal of building a resilient, sustainable, and green recovery" and to "identify and work together on further measures to build sustainable economies." But there were no hard commitments about what portion of stimulus packages would be directed towards green projects, technologies, or jobs.
The aim of the upcoming UN climate talks in Copenhagen is set as reaching agreement, with no reference made to the scale of the changes G20 countries, particularly the richest ones, will have to make to combat climate change. Friends of the Earth said the G20 had "short changed people and the planet". Greenpeace said climate change had been tagged on to the communique as an "afterthought".
Liberalisation still the norm?
The communique is understandably short on the usual congratulatory opening paragraphs, though it reiterates support for "an open world economy based on market principles" but now balanced by "effective regulation, and strong global institutions."
On trade the expected promise to "not repeat the historic mistakes of protectionism" is made, but the commitment to "reach an ambitious and balanced conclusion to" the Doha trade round looks suspiciously similar to the commitments made by the G20 in Washington last November, since when little progress has been made. Interestingly the G20 estimate for how much the Doha trade round could boost the global economy stands at a modest $150 billion. Civil society organisations around the globe have questioned whether reviving a trade round that developing countries have rejected many times is a good idea.
Protest grows
Marches and protests took place around the world in the run up to the G20 summit, including in India, Philippines, Indonesia, Spain, Germany, France, Austria and Italy. In London, thousands marched under the banner of 'Jobs, Justice, Climate,' as part of the 160-plus Put People First alliance of development, environment, faith groups and trade unions.
In addition to mobilisation of citizens, civil society groups have also put out collective statements which look very different from the limited set of issues in the G20 communique. At January's World Social Forum, civil society and social movements from around the world produced a statement signed up to by more than 600 organisations worldwide, entitled "Let's put finance in its place!" It includes demands barely considered by the G20, yet at the heart of the debate about how best to control global finance, including managing capital flows, and calling for "citizen control of banks and financial institutions." It also issued a challenge to the leaders gathered in London, saying: "the G20 is not the legitimate forum to resolve this systemic crisis."
On the eve of the G20, at the World in Crisis NGO summit in Prague, a declaration was issued calling for putting economies "at the service of social, environmental and other vital interests of women, men, girls and boys, in particular to start greening our economies and to increase local economic resilience." A raft of proposals were included on a host of critical topics including: market regulation; breaking the dominance of finance over the economy; keeping the climate negotiations on track; rethinking development finance; fairly sharing resource consumption across the globe; ensuring tax justice; and making IFIs more transparent, representative and accountable.
Meanwhile, the London Summit was slammed for systematically excluding civil society voices. In contrast to most international gatherings there was no process for civil society organisations to accredit and attend. Of the few civil society representatives who were allowed in as media representatives, some had accreditation withdrawn at the last minute. One of these denied entrance, Benedict Southwark of UK campaigning group the World Development Movement said that this: "starts to reek of the deliberate exclusion of critical voices."
Spotlight turns to UN
A week before the G20 met in London, the UN General Assembly president's commission on financial reforms released its draft report. The Joseph Stiglitz-led commission was much stronger in the latest report than in its first set of recommendations, and appears ahead of the G20 curve. The G20 has yet to pay adequate attention to this high powered group of thinkers.
In contrast to most international gatherings there was no process for civil society organisations to accredit and attend. Of the few civil society representatives who were allowed in as media representatives, some had accreditation withdrawn at the last minute.
• IMF: The rich world's viceroy
• Market fundamentalism
The recommendations said: "short term measures to stabilize the current situation must ensure the protection of the world's poor, while long term measures to make another recurrence less likely must ensure sustainable financing to strengthen the policy response of developing countries."
The commission was not unwilling to lay blame: "Loose monetary policy, inadequate regulation and lax supervision interacted to create financial instability," and there was "inadequate appreciation of the limits of markets." The report split its recommendations up into things to be done immediately and those that should be on the agenda for systemic reform.
Among immediate goals, it called for global fiscal stimulus, a new credit facility with better governance arrangements than exist at institutions such as the IMF, an end to pro-cyclical conditionality and rolling back the limits on developing country policy space created by trade agreements. For the financial sector the commission noted "While greater transparency is important, much more is needed than improving the clarity of financial instruments," and recommended the use of rules and incentives to limit excess leverage, prevent tax evasion, and address the regulatory race to the bottom.
While the short-term recommendations were sometimes eye-catching, the systemic demands surprised many observers. The call for "a new global reserve system", echoed the demand to end the US dollar's privileged position as international reserve currency made by China's central bank governor Zhou Xiaochuan. The commission also supported the idea for a UN-based Global Economic Council at the head of state level - essentially bringing a G20 type structure under the auspices of the UN system.
On long-term changes to financial regulation, the commission listed seven areas for reform and warned against "merely cosmetic changes". Notably it said: "The fact that correlated behaviour of a large number of institutions, each of which is not systemically significant, can give rise to systemic vulnerability makes oversight of all institutions necessary." This throws cold water the G20's plans for regulating only 'systemically-important' financial institutions.
The UN commission, despite being organised more quickly than the G20 meeting, was much more open to civil society input. More than 100 organisations made submissions to the stakeholder consultation procedure, and the final report on civil society opinion was detailed, comprehensive, and well received by the commission. The civil society submissions were all put online, more than can be said of the official G20 working group reports (see Update 64), which are yet to be published. In late March, members of the commission also held interactive dialogues with representatives at the UN General Assembly and civil society organisations.
The global focus will now move to a UN conference from 1-3 June in New York, billed as the follow-up to the UN Financing for Development conference in Doha. The conference is being held at the initiative of the General Assembly president, rather than from the UN Secretariat because of opposition from some major countries. It is unclear how much participation there will be by heads of state, especially as the G20 announced that it will hold another leader's level summit sometime before the end of this year. ⊕
Bretton Woods Project
19 Apr 2009
This article is republished from the Bretton Woods Project. The The Bretton Woods Project works as a networker, information-provider, media informant and watchdog to scrutinise and influence the World Bank and International Monetary Fund. Through briefings, reports and the bimonthly digest Bretton Woods Update, it monitors projects, policy reforms and the overall management of the Bretton Woods institutions with special emphasis on environmental and social concerns.
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19 April 2009 - The G20 meeting on 2 April, billed as the London Summit 2009 because of its inclusion of non-G20 players, captured positive media attention despite failing to set out a vision for transformative economic change, and pumping more money into the IMF and World Bank without a clear plan for reforming them.
Where did the 'trillion' go?
The IMF received most of the boost, with a possible $500 billion in new resources and $250 billion in issuances of Special Drawing Rights (SDRs). Of the $500 billion, only half has been signed and sealed, the vast majority of which had been previously announced: $100 billion from Japan in January and the same amount from the EU in March. Most of the new $50bn comes from China - a small drop in its vast ocean of reserves, indicating that it continues to be reluctant to back the International Financial Institutions (IFIs) financially without real governance reform. The second tranche of $250 billion only exists as a G20 promise to find the extra cash, and to make "substantial progress" in doing so by April's spring meetings.
The other massive increase in IMF resources was through an allocation of Special Drawing Rights (SDRs), the IMF's own internally created reserve asset. An SDR allocation effectively means printing new money, $100 billion of which will go to "emerging market and developing countries". Unlike other forms of finance, SDRs come without conditions attached, but a country must still pay interest when it uses them. As SDRs are allocated according to voting shares at the IMF, the majority will go to rich countries.
On new money for the multilateral deveopment banks (MDBs), the language is particularly hazy. The G20 agrees only to "support" additional annual lending by the MDBs of $100 billion per year. Some of this, such as a boost to IFC trade financing, is money already promised. Some is supposed to come from existing MDB resources. Some will come from a 200 per cent boost to the Asian Development Bank's capital, and consideration of similar moves for the Inter-American Development Bank and the African Development Bank.
World Bank attempts to garner additional contributions for their 'vulnerability' funds were snubbed, with the G20 making clear that these would only be delivered bilaterally from willing donors. So far, the UK is the only country to make concrete commitments - diverting £200 million of its existing aid budget for this purpose. The G20 also asked the Bank to increase lending limits for "large countries" and to lend at market rates to low income countries, but only those with "sustainable debt positions and sound policies."
Money for the poorest?
Big increases in IMF resources have not been matched with clear commitments to end the controversial austerity policies that have so far accompanied IMF bailout packages.
• IMF: The rich world's viceroy
• Market fundamentalism
Of the putative $1.1 trillion, $50 billion, or less than 5 per cent, is likely to be for the 49 poorest countries in the world. The communique does not give clear details of how this figure is arrived at. Brussels based NGO, Eurodad estimates that, in addition to $6 billion (over three years) from IMF gold sales that will be added to the IMF's concessional lending pot, $19 billion in new money will come from the SDR allocation. The communique also calls for a doubling of the IMF's concessional lending capacity, currently at about $20 billion. That means that most of the total is IMF loans, which are only available if poor countries' economies go into meltdown.
The detail on the promised "global effort to ensure the availability of at least $250 billion of trade finance over the next two years" is entirely absent from the communique. However, the IFC - the private sector lending arm of the World Bank - is already angling for a slice of this cash for its new global trade lliquidity programme. Most of the rest is likely to funds provided by export credit agencies, which have been heavily criticised for a host of issues, including focussing their support on the arms industry. The communique's commitment to meet existing aid pledges obviously meant more to some G20 countries than others. Italy, the current host of the G8, plans to cut its aid by 55 per cent this year.
Elephants in the room: governance and conditionality
The G20 communique says nothing new on IFI governance reform, and big increases in IMF resources have not been matched with clear commitments to end the controversial austerity policies that have so far accompanied IMF bailout packages.
Changes to voting shares to give developing economies "greater voice and representation" are promised in general but the annex appears to backtrack on IMF reform. The existing plan for Bank governance reforms by the 2010 Spring Meetings for the World Bank is reconfirmed, but on the Fund, the annex indicates that the slightly accelerated quota review may not address the democratic deficit or governance imbalance but will be undertaken "to ensure the IMF's finances are on a sustainable footing".
Critics remain concerned that lessons from the Asian financial crisis a decade ago have not been learned, where IMF conditions were blamed for worsening recessions. Duncan Green of Oxfam said: "We have deep concerns about how central the IMF has become in this crisis. The fund has been given a blank cheque but its reform remains no more than a promise."
Financial reform: does it have teeth?
Campaigning NGOs and continental European governments had pushed the issue of tax havens to the fore in the run up to the summit. The UK, itself a sponsor of many of the world's most famous tax havens including the Cayman Islands and Jersey, had picked up the rhetoric.
The G20 decided to endorse the OECD approach of exchanging information about companies and individuals suspected of evading taxes on request, rather than the more stringent automatic exchange of information called for by the Tax Justice Network and others. There was no mention of measures that could help developing countries crack down on corporate tax abuse: country-by-country financial reporting or requiring transparency of all information on beneficial ownership in all jurisdictions.
The fanfare surrounding a supposed 'blacklist' of non-cooperative countries published on the day of the summit by the OECD went silent when it emerged that only four countries were on the list - Uruguay, the Philippines, the Malaysian Federal Territory of Labuan, and Costa Rica - none of them well known tax havens. Further confusion followed when even these four were removed, leaving no countries in the OECD's worst category. The strong rhetoric - declaring that "the era of banking secrecy is over" and promising to "stand ready to deploy sanctions" - has yet to be turned into effective action.
As promised by the G20 finance ministers in March the Financial Stability Forum will be expanded to include all G20 countries, and renamed the Financial Stability Board (FSB). It will continue to have a purely advisory role to; "promote co-ordination"; "assess vulnerabilities affecting the financial system" and "set guidelines". With no specific powers or sanctions available to it, and a lack of a clear governance structure, it remains to be seen whether the new board will be an improvement on the old forum.
On banking regulation, a topic that has dominated headlines in the run up to the summit, surprisingly little concrete was agreed, though international bodies are tasked with looking further into a host of issues. International minimum capital requirements will remain unchanged "until recovery is assured" and the often criticised Basel II capital framework supported. The existing 'toxic assets' in banks remain a huge problem, but one that has been left to national regulators to fix.
The fund has been given a blank cheque but its reform remains no more than a promise.
• IMF: The rich world's viceroy
• Market fundamentalism
In his post-summit press conference, British Prime Minister Gordon Brown repeated his assertion that the 'shadow banking system' would be brought into "the global regulatory net", but the language of the communique is far more cautious - "systematically important financial institutions, markets, and instruments" should be subject to an "appropriate degree of regulation and oversight."
The FSB and IMF are tasked with deciding what "systematically important" means. Many hedge funds and private equity firms may continue to escape the regulatory net, especially those formally headquartered in off-shore financial centres. Hedge fund and credit rating agency "registration" is promised, and credit derivatives markets will be "standardised," but it is left to the industry itself to decide how to do this.
Missing the green picture
Green groups slammed the G20 for failing to grasp the opportunity to signal a clear commitment to building a low-carbon economy. The communique promises to "make best possible use" of stimulus packages "towards the goal of building a resilient, sustainable, and green recovery" and to "identify and work together on further measures to build sustainable economies." But there were no hard commitments about what portion of stimulus packages would be directed towards green projects, technologies, or jobs.
The aim of the upcoming UN climate talks in Copenhagen is set as reaching agreement, with no reference made to the scale of the changes G20 countries, particularly the richest ones, will have to make to combat climate change. Friends of the Earth said the G20 had "short changed people and the planet". Greenpeace said climate change had been tagged on to the communique as an "afterthought".
Liberalisation still the norm?
The communique is understandably short on the usual congratulatory opening paragraphs, though it reiterates support for "an open world economy based on market principles" but now balanced by "effective regulation, and strong global institutions."
On trade the expected promise to "not repeat the historic mistakes of protectionism" is made, but the commitment to "reach an ambitious and balanced conclusion to" the Doha trade round looks suspiciously similar to the commitments made by the G20 in Washington last November, since when little progress has been made. Interestingly the G20 estimate for how much the Doha trade round could boost the global economy stands at a modest $150 billion. Civil society organisations around the globe have questioned whether reviving a trade round that developing countries have rejected many times is a good idea.
Protest grows
Marches and protests took place around the world in the run up to the G20 summit, including in India, Philippines, Indonesia, Spain, Germany, France, Austria and Italy. In London, thousands marched under the banner of 'Jobs, Justice, Climate,' as part of the 160-plus Put People First alliance of development, environment, faith groups and trade unions.
In addition to mobilisation of citizens, civil society groups have also put out collective statements which look very different from the limited set of issues in the G20 communique. At January's World Social Forum, civil society and social movements from around the world produced a statement signed up to by more than 600 organisations worldwide, entitled "Let's put finance in its place!" It includes demands barely considered by the G20, yet at the heart of the debate about how best to control global finance, including managing capital flows, and calling for "citizen control of banks and financial institutions." It also issued a challenge to the leaders gathered in London, saying: "the G20 is not the legitimate forum to resolve this systemic crisis."
On the eve of the G20, at the World in Crisis NGO summit in Prague, a declaration was issued calling for putting economies "at the service of social, environmental and other vital interests of women, men, girls and boys, in particular to start greening our economies and to increase local economic resilience." A raft of proposals were included on a host of critical topics including: market regulation; breaking the dominance of finance over the economy; keeping the climate negotiations on track; rethinking development finance; fairly sharing resource consumption across the globe; ensuring tax justice; and making IFIs more transparent, representative and accountable.
Meanwhile, the London Summit was slammed for systematically excluding civil society voices. In contrast to most international gatherings there was no process for civil society organisations to accredit and attend. Of the few civil society representatives who were allowed in as media representatives, some had accreditation withdrawn at the last minute. One of these denied entrance, Benedict Southwark of UK campaigning group the World Development Movement said that this: "starts to reek of the deliberate exclusion of critical voices."
Spotlight turns to UN
A week before the G20 met in London, the UN General Assembly president's commission on financial reforms released its draft report. The Joseph Stiglitz-led commission was much stronger in the latest report than in its first set of recommendations, and appears ahead of the G20 curve. The G20 has yet to pay adequate attention to this high powered group of thinkers.
In contrast to most international gatherings there was no process for civil society organisations to accredit and attend. Of the few civil society representatives who were allowed in as media representatives, some had accreditation withdrawn at the last minute.
• IMF: The rich world's viceroy
• Market fundamentalism
The recommendations said: "short term measures to stabilize the current situation must ensure the protection of the world's poor, while long term measures to make another recurrence less likely must ensure sustainable financing to strengthen the policy response of developing countries."
The commission was not unwilling to lay blame: "Loose monetary policy, inadequate regulation and lax supervision interacted to create financial instability," and there was "inadequate appreciation of the limits of markets." The report split its recommendations up into things to be done immediately and those that should be on the agenda for systemic reform.
Among immediate goals, it called for global fiscal stimulus, a new credit facility with better governance arrangements than exist at institutions such as the IMF, an end to pro-cyclical conditionality and rolling back the limits on developing country policy space created by trade agreements. For the financial sector the commission noted "While greater transparency is important, much more is needed than improving the clarity of financial instruments," and recommended the use of rules and incentives to limit excess leverage, prevent tax evasion, and address the regulatory race to the bottom.
While the short-term recommendations were sometimes eye-catching, the systemic demands surprised many observers. The call for "a new global reserve system", echoed the demand to end the US dollar's privileged position as international reserve currency made by China's central bank governor Zhou Xiaochuan. The commission also supported the idea for a UN-based Global Economic Council at the head of state level - essentially bringing a G20 type structure under the auspices of the UN system.
On long-term changes to financial regulation, the commission listed seven areas for reform and warned against "merely cosmetic changes". Notably it said: "The fact that correlated behaviour of a large number of institutions, each of which is not systemically significant, can give rise to systemic vulnerability makes oversight of all institutions necessary." This throws cold water the G20's plans for regulating only 'systemically-important' financial institutions.
The UN commission, despite being organised more quickly than the G20 meeting, was much more open to civil society input. More than 100 organisations made submissions to the stakeholder consultation procedure, and the final report on civil society opinion was detailed, comprehensive, and well received by the commission. The civil society submissions were all put online, more than can be said of the official G20 working group reports (see Update 64), which are yet to be published. In late March, members of the commission also held interactive dialogues with representatives at the UN General Assembly and civil society organisations.
The global focus will now move to a UN conference from 1-3 June in New York, billed as the follow-up to the UN Financing for Development conference in Doha. The conference is being held at the initiative of the General Assembly president, rather than from the UN Secretariat because of opposition from some major countries. It is unclear how much participation there will be by heads of state, especially as the G20 announced that it will hold another leader's level summit sometime before the end of this year. ⊕
Bretton Woods Project
19 Apr 2009
This article is republished from the Bretton Woods Project. The The Bretton Woods Project works as a networker, information-provider, media informant and watchdog to scrutinise and influence the World Bank and International Monetary Fund. Through briefings, reports and the bimonthly digest Bretton Woods Update, it monitors projects, policy reforms and the overall management of the Bretton Woods institutions with special emphasis on environmental and social concerns.
Kargil: Whose War was That?
by C. Uday Bhaskar
July 26 marks 10 years after India won the limited but high-stakes Kargil War initiated by Pakistan. On this day in 1999, the Indian soldiers gave the country a significant victory - albeit at a heavy cost in life, limb and blood. More than 500 military personnel gave their lives and a grateful nation celebrated a Kargil Diwas (Day).
But regrettably a decade later, it is evident that the nation has learnt little by way of imbibing the right lessons. And this is not for lack of clear and objective recommendations based on a careful review of what caused Kargil and what went wrong as far as national security was concerned.
The Kargil Review Committee headed by veteran security analyst K. Subrahmanyam produced its report in record time and this was submitted to the Atal Bihari Vajpayee-led NDA government.
To its limited credit, the NDA constituted four separate task forces to make tangible recommendations to improve and restructure the following areas: management of the country's borders; internal security; intelligence gathering capabilities; and defence management.
These reports were then submitted to the NDA government and reviewed by a Group of Ministers. The earnest hope and crying national need was for these recommendations to have been discussed in some detail in parliament so as to obtain consensual political support and then be implemented progressively. The objective ought to have been to prevent another Kargil and create necessary national security capacity from the apex downwards.
Alas, little of the implementation took place during the NDA rule and even less so in the UPA's first tenure.
Consequently the nation had to face the ignominy of its parliament being attacked by terrorists in December 2001 and seven years later, undergo the trauma of the November 2008 Mumbai attacks - a veritable maritime Kargil.
In the interim, national security has become a political football and it was deplorable that in the run up to the 10th anniversary of the Kargil Diwas, some political representatives actually described this war as belonging to the NDA/BJP. The martyrs and their families and those wounded in the icy heights of the Kargil-Drass region have been predictably forgotten and ignored.
The lack of adequate capacity for national security - despite the rhetoric that is periodically heard - is best reflected in the kind of time and attention paid to this highest and most sacred national calling in the Indian parliament.
In 10 years, there has been no sustained or meaningful debate on the Kargil war and its lessons in any session of parliament. And to add insult to injury, in the same period, the Ministry of Defence has returned almost Rs.50,000 crore (over $10 billion) as money unspent from the amount allocated for acquisition and modernization of the Indian military inventory. Thus the reality is that in the post-Kargil decade, India's trans-border military capacity has shrunk - but no one in the political spectrum is particularly concerned.
In this period, the nature of the security challenges facing India has become more complex and tangled and today the external and internal security strands have coalesced into one opaque domain. The country is at war. On paper - in the budget documents - the country allocates over Rs.141,000 crore (nearly $30 billion) towards defence. Yet what is meaningfully spent is lesser and this when the military, para-military and police forces have equipment and related inventory that is veering towards block obsolescence.
Parliamentarians and senior political leaders must take the responsibility for this sorry state of affairs and embark on appropriate redress with purpose. Specific suggestions include convening a full 10-day session of both the houses that will discuss the Kargil recommendations and the GoM reports to evolve an all-party consensus for immediate action.
The Indian military is a credible and highly professional institution and when the chips are down - as they were in Kargil in 1999 - it was the young officers and their committed troops who plucked the chestnuts out of the fire. Ineptitude at the higher levels of national security management is a recurring leit motif from the 1962 war with China through Kargil to the 2008 Mumbai carnage.
Many inadequacies exist in the Indian national security apparatus despite the lessons of Kargil and this is a poor reflection on the Indian entity - both state and empowered civil society.
Parliament ought to demand that the government set up a Blue Ribbon commission that will draw the most eminent and capable national security professionals who have no political axe to grind to carry out an urgent review and outline time-bound remedial measures. And to be meaningful and not anodyne, they would have to be radical and far-reaching and not timid and tentative.
Finally, as regards the martyrs - those who died in Kargil for flag and country - and the many more who made the supreme sacrifice before 1999 and after - right into July this year - they warrant a national tribute.
This is not the time to open the arid debate about why the world's largest democracy does not have a national memorial for its 'fauj' but to make a modest suggestion.
Many Western nations who lost their young men in World War I (which incidentally includes India) mark Nov 11 as Poppy Day. A tradition has evolved wherein the common citizen lays a poppy flower on the tomb of the martyrs or pays tribute in a designated public space.
The average Indian need not wait for the state and its political representatives to decide whose war Kargil was. It was fought for India. Period.
Thus there may be a case to choose an Indian flower - why not the humble 'gainda' (marigold) - and offer it to the unknown and forgotten Indian martyr who willingly shed blood. Local communities can decide how best to remember the martyrs and their families in their midst and let them know that at least once a year.
'Your sacrifice is not forgotten'. The moment has come for 'Gainda' Day to lead the plethora of other dedicated 'days' that dot the Indian calendar.
(Uday Bhaskar is a well-known strategic analyst. He can be reached at cudayb@gmail.com)
July 26 marks 10 years after India won the limited but high-stakes Kargil War initiated by Pakistan. On this day in 1999, the Indian soldiers gave the country a significant victory - albeit at a heavy cost in life, limb and blood. More than 500 military personnel gave their lives and a grateful nation celebrated a Kargil Diwas (Day).
But regrettably a decade later, it is evident that the nation has learnt little by way of imbibing the right lessons. And this is not for lack of clear and objective recommendations based on a careful review of what caused Kargil and what went wrong as far as national security was concerned.
The Kargil Review Committee headed by veteran security analyst K. Subrahmanyam produced its report in record time and this was submitted to the Atal Bihari Vajpayee-led NDA government.
To its limited credit, the NDA constituted four separate task forces to make tangible recommendations to improve and restructure the following areas: management of the country's borders; internal security; intelligence gathering capabilities; and defence management.
These reports were then submitted to the NDA government and reviewed by a Group of Ministers. The earnest hope and crying national need was for these recommendations to have been discussed in some detail in parliament so as to obtain consensual political support and then be implemented progressively. The objective ought to have been to prevent another Kargil and create necessary national security capacity from the apex downwards.
Alas, little of the implementation took place during the NDA rule and even less so in the UPA's first tenure.
Consequently the nation had to face the ignominy of its parliament being attacked by terrorists in December 2001 and seven years later, undergo the trauma of the November 2008 Mumbai attacks - a veritable maritime Kargil.
In the interim, national security has become a political football and it was deplorable that in the run up to the 10th anniversary of the Kargil Diwas, some political representatives actually described this war as belonging to the NDA/BJP. The martyrs and their families and those wounded in the icy heights of the Kargil-Drass region have been predictably forgotten and ignored.
The lack of adequate capacity for national security - despite the rhetoric that is periodically heard - is best reflected in the kind of time and attention paid to this highest and most sacred national calling in the Indian parliament.
In 10 years, there has been no sustained or meaningful debate on the Kargil war and its lessons in any session of parliament. And to add insult to injury, in the same period, the Ministry of Defence has returned almost Rs.50,000 crore (over $10 billion) as money unspent from the amount allocated for acquisition and modernization of the Indian military inventory. Thus the reality is that in the post-Kargil decade, India's trans-border military capacity has shrunk - but no one in the political spectrum is particularly concerned.
In this period, the nature of the security challenges facing India has become more complex and tangled and today the external and internal security strands have coalesced into one opaque domain. The country is at war. On paper - in the budget documents - the country allocates over Rs.141,000 crore (nearly $30 billion) towards defence. Yet what is meaningfully spent is lesser and this when the military, para-military and police forces have equipment and related inventory that is veering towards block obsolescence.
Parliamentarians and senior political leaders must take the responsibility for this sorry state of affairs and embark on appropriate redress with purpose. Specific suggestions include convening a full 10-day session of both the houses that will discuss the Kargil recommendations and the GoM reports to evolve an all-party consensus for immediate action.
The Indian military is a credible and highly professional institution and when the chips are down - as they were in Kargil in 1999 - it was the young officers and their committed troops who plucked the chestnuts out of the fire. Ineptitude at the higher levels of national security management is a recurring leit motif from the 1962 war with China through Kargil to the 2008 Mumbai carnage.
Many inadequacies exist in the Indian national security apparatus despite the lessons of Kargil and this is a poor reflection on the Indian entity - both state and empowered civil society.
Parliament ought to demand that the government set up a Blue Ribbon commission that will draw the most eminent and capable national security professionals who have no political axe to grind to carry out an urgent review and outline time-bound remedial measures. And to be meaningful and not anodyne, they would have to be radical and far-reaching and not timid and tentative.
Finally, as regards the martyrs - those who died in Kargil for flag and country - and the many more who made the supreme sacrifice before 1999 and after - right into July this year - they warrant a national tribute.
This is not the time to open the arid debate about why the world's largest democracy does not have a national memorial for its 'fauj' but to make a modest suggestion.
Many Western nations who lost their young men in World War I (which incidentally includes India) mark Nov 11 as Poppy Day. A tradition has evolved wherein the common citizen lays a poppy flower on the tomb of the martyrs or pays tribute in a designated public space.
The average Indian need not wait for the state and its political representatives to decide whose war Kargil was. It was fought for India. Period.
Thus there may be a case to choose an Indian flower - why not the humble 'gainda' (marigold) - and offer it to the unknown and forgotten Indian martyr who willingly shed blood. Local communities can decide how best to remember the martyrs and their families in their midst and let them know that at least once a year.
'Your sacrifice is not forgotten'. The moment has come for 'Gainda' Day to lead the plethora of other dedicated 'days' that dot the Indian calendar.
(Uday Bhaskar is a well-known strategic analyst. He can be reached at cudayb@gmail.com)
Pakistan's Army: Living in a State of Strategic Denial
by C. Uday Bhaskar
A two-day international conference on genocide that concluded in Dhaka July 31 exhorted the UN to recognize the mass killings and rape that the Pakistan Army had unleashed in the torturous and tumultuous events that preceded the birth of Bangladesh in December 1971.
Legal experts from Germany, Vietnam, Hong Kong, Britain and Canada joined their Bangladeshi counterparts in issuing a declaration that noted: "The conference calls upon the media and the civil society at home and abroad to focus on the (1971) genocide in Bangladesh, and launch a campaign so that this is recognized in the UN as Genocide."
Furthermore, the conference urged the Bangladesh government to begin the process of trying the perpetrators as war criminals and to seek international support in this regard.
But the sad truth is that as in the past 37 years, this earnest plea is unlikely to elicit any meaningful response from the powers that be at the global table.
The US, with Richard Nixon in the White House and his ace assistant Henry Kissinger actually calling the shots in 1971, was culpable by turning a blind eye to the genocide and mass rape that enveloped then East Pakistan. To their credit, the US mission in Dhaka tried to report the carnage to the DC Beltway and the US media, including some mainstream papers reported the events as accurately as possible. But in vain. And in keeping with the dictum that major powers shape the historical narrative in a selective manner by engaging in astute exclusion, this enormity has since been successfully relegated to the distant back-burner of the global record.
Four decades later, except for the victims and their traumatized families, recall of the genocide in Bangladesh outside of that country is hazy. The Pakistan Army, which was the principal institution engaged in attacking and butchering its own citizens - albeit of Bengali ethnicity, has since sought to play down the scale of the bloodshed and rape.
The official Pakistani version refers to 26,000 killed over a year but this is at considerable variance with other estimates which range from 300,000 to a staggering three million killed and between 200,000 to 400,000 women raped.
Two other estimates are illustrative of the disparity that exists about these gory figures. "Statistics of Democide: Genocide and Mass Murder Since 1900" by R.J. Rummel places the deaths at 1.5 million and other literature on the subject avers that East Pakistan of 1971 ranks as having the highest concentration or density of genocide by way of the numbers killed, the time involved and the geographical area in question. Yet another book, "Against Our Will: Men, Women and Rape" by Susan Brownmiller estimates that the total number of women raped by Pakistan Army personnel along with their local support base - the 'razakars' - varies from 200,000 to 400,000. The majority of them were Muslim girls and women ranging from age eight to 70 plus.
These are appalling statistics by any yardstick and in a normative context, even one death or rape of a civilian non-combatant by any uniformed person is cause for the gravest concern. Paradoxically, where death becomes macro, cerebral distortions occur easily. In keeping with the Einstein formulation that in a stellar domain mass can deform space, it may be averred that where a whole state machinery is committed to mass killing, normal morality and ethics are warped and elite responsibility evaded. Most objective genocide studies point to this pattern.
However, the purpose of this comment is not to cast aspersions on the veracity of one study or the other - more qualified voices will have to address that - but to relate the events of 1971 with the current turmoil in Pakistan.
Currently, the Pakistan Army - which in the Zia years became the defender of the Islamic faith - is caught in deep strategic denial about its murky and blood-splattered past. The empirical reality is that this institution since the first war for Kashmir in October 1947 to Kargil of May 1999 has been tasked in covert operations that have used terror stoked by religious radicalism and sectarian xenophobia against the 'adversary' - whether the much reviled Hindu Indian or the fellow Pakistani, be it the Bengali Pakistani of 1971 or the Baluchi of current times.
Like Oscar Wilde's "Picture of Dorian Grey", the institutional face of the Pakistan Army is best exemplified by the chutzpah of General Pervez Musharraf is a visage of supreme confidence - now further bolstered by the nuclear firewall. But the ugly reality is of a once proud army - its track record in World War II as part of the erstwhile British Indian Army is lustrous - that has lost its moral compass. The result has been the ignominy of killing fellow citizens on an unprecedented scale and where arch enemy India has been engaged - not being able to acknowledge the deaths of its regular troops in battle or even claim their bodies. A la Lady Macbeth, this is a stain that cannot be wiped away.
The inflexible mindset of the Pakistan Army has to be radically altered and there is no historical precedent that this will occur by consensus and deep introspection. The military acquires its legitimacy to use proportionate force for a larger national objective from adherence to the rule of law and a distilled code of professional conduct. But when the deviant becomes the norm, the correlation between principle and power is subverted.
The Pakistan Army is caught in an inflexible mode of strategic denial about its past, which is why it appears both unable and unwilling to deal with its present internal security challenges. This is the 'truth' that President Asif Ali Zardari has been trying to reveal - but with limited success. The reverberations of the Dhaka genocide conference must be picked up by Pakistan's accomplished intellectuals - both in the media and academia - and a false narrative corrected. The army must finally confront its mea culpa moment through the bloody cross of East Pakistan.
(C. Uday Bhaskar is a well-known strategic analyst. He can be reached at cudayb@gmail.com)
A two-day international conference on genocide that concluded in Dhaka July 31 exhorted the UN to recognize the mass killings and rape that the Pakistan Army had unleashed in the torturous and tumultuous events that preceded the birth of Bangladesh in December 1971.
Legal experts from Germany, Vietnam, Hong Kong, Britain and Canada joined their Bangladeshi counterparts in issuing a declaration that noted: "The conference calls upon the media and the civil society at home and abroad to focus on the (1971) genocide in Bangladesh, and launch a campaign so that this is recognized in the UN as Genocide."
Furthermore, the conference urged the Bangladesh government to begin the process of trying the perpetrators as war criminals and to seek international support in this regard.
But the sad truth is that as in the past 37 years, this earnest plea is unlikely to elicit any meaningful response from the powers that be at the global table.
The US, with Richard Nixon in the White House and his ace assistant Henry Kissinger actually calling the shots in 1971, was culpable by turning a blind eye to the genocide and mass rape that enveloped then East Pakistan. To their credit, the US mission in Dhaka tried to report the carnage to the DC Beltway and the US media, including some mainstream papers reported the events as accurately as possible. But in vain. And in keeping with the dictum that major powers shape the historical narrative in a selective manner by engaging in astute exclusion, this enormity has since been successfully relegated to the distant back-burner of the global record.
Four decades later, except for the victims and their traumatized families, recall of the genocide in Bangladesh outside of that country is hazy. The Pakistan Army, which was the principal institution engaged in attacking and butchering its own citizens - albeit of Bengali ethnicity, has since sought to play down the scale of the bloodshed and rape.
The official Pakistani version refers to 26,000 killed over a year but this is at considerable variance with other estimates which range from 300,000 to a staggering three million killed and between 200,000 to 400,000 women raped.
Two other estimates are illustrative of the disparity that exists about these gory figures. "Statistics of Democide: Genocide and Mass Murder Since 1900" by R.J. Rummel places the deaths at 1.5 million and other literature on the subject avers that East Pakistan of 1971 ranks as having the highest concentration or density of genocide by way of the numbers killed, the time involved and the geographical area in question. Yet another book, "Against Our Will: Men, Women and Rape" by Susan Brownmiller estimates that the total number of women raped by Pakistan Army personnel along with their local support base - the 'razakars' - varies from 200,000 to 400,000. The majority of them were Muslim girls and women ranging from age eight to 70 plus.
These are appalling statistics by any yardstick and in a normative context, even one death or rape of a civilian non-combatant by any uniformed person is cause for the gravest concern. Paradoxically, where death becomes macro, cerebral distortions occur easily. In keeping with the Einstein formulation that in a stellar domain mass can deform space, it may be averred that where a whole state machinery is committed to mass killing, normal morality and ethics are warped and elite responsibility evaded. Most objective genocide studies point to this pattern.
However, the purpose of this comment is not to cast aspersions on the veracity of one study or the other - more qualified voices will have to address that - but to relate the events of 1971 with the current turmoil in Pakistan.
Currently, the Pakistan Army - which in the Zia years became the defender of the Islamic faith - is caught in deep strategic denial about its murky and blood-splattered past. The empirical reality is that this institution since the first war for Kashmir in October 1947 to Kargil of May 1999 has been tasked in covert operations that have used terror stoked by religious radicalism and sectarian xenophobia against the 'adversary' - whether the much reviled Hindu Indian or the fellow Pakistani, be it the Bengali Pakistani of 1971 or the Baluchi of current times.
Like Oscar Wilde's "Picture of Dorian Grey", the institutional face of the Pakistan Army is best exemplified by the chutzpah of General Pervez Musharraf is a visage of supreme confidence - now further bolstered by the nuclear firewall. But the ugly reality is of a once proud army - its track record in World War II as part of the erstwhile British Indian Army is lustrous - that has lost its moral compass. The result has been the ignominy of killing fellow citizens on an unprecedented scale and where arch enemy India has been engaged - not being able to acknowledge the deaths of its regular troops in battle or even claim their bodies. A la Lady Macbeth, this is a stain that cannot be wiped away.
The inflexible mindset of the Pakistan Army has to be radically altered and there is no historical precedent that this will occur by consensus and deep introspection. The military acquires its legitimacy to use proportionate force for a larger national objective from adherence to the rule of law and a distilled code of professional conduct. But when the deviant becomes the norm, the correlation between principle and power is subverted.
The Pakistan Army is caught in an inflexible mode of strategic denial about its past, which is why it appears both unable and unwilling to deal with its present internal security challenges. This is the 'truth' that President Asif Ali Zardari has been trying to reveal - but with limited success. The reverberations of the Dhaka genocide conference must be picked up by Pakistan's accomplished intellectuals - both in the media and academia - and a false narrative corrected. The army must finally confront its mea culpa moment through the bloody cross of East Pakistan.
(C. Uday Bhaskar is a well-known strategic analyst. He can be reached at cudayb@gmail.com)
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