NEW DELHI, 5 September 2004 — The fog of elections is no less poisonous than the fog of war, so it is unsurprising if good sense dies a thousand deaths in the process. President George Bush made a sensible remark recently when he suggested that it was impossible to win the war against terrorism. The candor was unusual for a politician, and almost unbelievable during an election in which George Bush has bet his whole presidency on the assumption that enough Americans will believe that he rather than John Kerry can lay to rest the nightmare of Sept. 11. Candor died instantly when Kerry challenged honesty with deception. The war could be won, he claimed, which is within the bounds of reason; but his implication that he knew how to win it was electoral fraud. Naturally, it worked. Bush retracted, and a chance for a genuine debate on a complex problem at a defining moment was lost. Instead of a debate we will see one-liner upmanship. The discussion might as well be handed over to Jay Leno and David Letterman who, in any case, make more sense on most issues.
Bush is right in the sense that it is impossible to eliminate crime or violence. But an invisible line measures civilization, and everyone knows when that line has been crossed, for two steps beyond it lie either fear or chaos. A terror map of the world would make startling viewing. Very little space would be in calm white; most of the world would be in crimson red. The four largest democracies of the world, India, the United States, Russia and Indonesia are engaged in this war for separate reasons, and deal with it in different ways. There is always controversy about methods, since one man’s terrorist is so often another man’s freedom fighter. There are few signs of conflict-resolution: The faces of the children of Beslan are now etched into our consciousness. (It is incidental perhaps but nevertheless relevant to note that many of the schoolchildren were local Muslims.) The pain of this war is immense and must include the hidden pain of the desperate young men and women who are ready to die to send a message.
I believe that the war on terrorism can be won, but the first, critical, stage is to get the definitions correct. We must mean what we say, and we must know what we mean. Let us take the most obvious example of a misplaced dictionary. George Bush went to war in Iraq ostensibly to find illegal weapons of mass destruction. Let me suggest the names of two nations with weapons of mass destruction without the approval of legitimate world bodies. India and Pakistan possess nuclear weapons that were condemned as illegitimate, and which provoked international sanctions. Neither the United States nor Britain has considered invading either Delhi or Islamabad. Bush should have said what he meant; that he was not going after weapons of mass destruction but rogue governments that he could not trust. That story would have had a happier ending.
The problem with war on terrorism is that while there is now sufficient consensus on the meaning of terrorism, there is equal confusion about the definition of war. Where is the primary battlefield of that war, on the ground, or in the mind? The dilemmas only begin at this point. What if the suicide-missionary is born in the rubble of a mistake, or the devastation of injustice? What if the pursuit of terror multiplies its dimensions? Is there any count of Iraqi teenagers who only wanted an education yesterday but want a gun today? Are the terrorists of Chechnya taking revenge for some terror that never appeared on our television screens? These questions would have inevitably flowed from the debate that Bush initiated and Kerry aborted.
To my knowledge there have been at least three notable victories by the state over urban/rural insurrections: in Malaysia in the 1950s, when a Communist challenge was neutralized; in large parts of India in the last part of the 1960s and the early part of the 1970s, when Naxalites were quelled; and in Punjab in the 1980s, when Sikh separatists were defeated. The key to each success was the protection of public opinion. While mistakes were made — sometimes ones that extracted a very heavy price, as Operation Bluestar and the Sikh riots of 1984 did — the rebels never succeeded in getting more than temporary or partial sympathy from the people. One reason was ideological. Atheism did not appeal to the Muslims in Malaysia. The Naxalites similarly alienated themselves from Indian nationalism with their declaration that China’s Mao was their chairman. And the broad mass of Punjab’s peasantry never quite understood why they should separate from the motherland. But there was also a simultaneous political process that assuaged the reasons for discontent. The British, who were an imperial power in Malaysia, realized that their time was over, and left once the job was done. It is also important that they kept the conflict at the level of a police operation, rather than depend totally on the army.
During the Naxalite movement and the Punjab rebellion, the Indian state was on the side of Indian nationalism. This is why it prevailed. The great mistake made by George Bush in Iraq and Vladimir Putin in Chechnya is that they may have gifted nationalism to fundamentalists and suicide-missionaries. Iraq’s nationalist aspirations go back to before World War I, when small but significant groups sought independence from the Ottoman caliph. This exploded into an insurrection when the British continued their occupation after the end of the war.
Oil and nationalism are synonymous in the region, and one reason for Saddam Hussein’s initial popularity was his successful, even brilliant, nationalization of Iraqi oil. It is entirely logical that the sabotage of oil supplies is on the top of the agenda of the forces fighting the American presence in Iraq.
In the Caucasus, nationalism has inspired war for nearly two hundred years. The Chechens resisted czarists in 1818 and the Bolsheviks in 1917. Just as certain army officers in Iraq tried to use the Germans to get rid of the British in World War II; just as an Indian called Subhas Bose took the help of the Germans and the Japanese to march against the British in World War II; the Chechens took the help of the Germans against the Russians in 1942. Stalin’s response after victory was not gentle. When the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991, the Chechens again demanded independence. Boris Yeltsin’s response would have pleased Stalin.
Nothing is irreversible, and I thought I glimpsed the first sign of honest uncertainty in Bush’s statement. Recognition of the truth is halfway to solving the problem. The need in both Iraq and Chechnya is surely to wrench nationalism back from those who believe that their salvation lies in making schoolchildren hostage. Perhaps Bush does mean what he says when he wants democracy in Iraq. But the fundamental principle of democracy is to let power go where it may. If the popular will is with those you do not like, then popular will must prevail over your preferences. A stooge government invites more ridicule than an occupying authority. It is also an invitation to violence. If you want to see how power can change character consider the remarkable case of Abdul Rasul Sayyaf, once famed as warlord and fundamentalist, and mentor of Khalid Shaikh Mohammed, the brains behind Sept. 11, 2002. So where is Sayyaf as we head toward Sept. 11, 2004? Being courted by America’s favorite Afghan, Hamid Karzai, for support in the coming elections in Afghanistan, and one of the key players in the Kabul establishment. Yesterday’s fundamentalist is today’s American ally, despite Sept.11. This is a welcome development. I know at least one former Naxalite who became a minister in Delhi. That is the way challenge is absorbed by a sensible political system. By creating space for today’s adversaries in Iraq and Chechnya Bush and Putin could make them tomorrow’s friends. Bullets have only limited power, for death is never a good substitute for life.
