Perils of covert operations
The debate over the Indian Army's Special Forces raid against National Socialist Council of Nagaland (Khaplang) insurgents on Myanmarese territory has produced two main reactions.
The first, from Narendra Modi's diehard supporters, trumpets the operation's "great" success. The second defends covert operations, but believes that publicising them is self-defeating.
The first view's proponents support publicising the operation's details—against military rules—because India must send a signal not just to Khaplang, but to the "entire neighbourhood". India's national security approach has changed under its "56-inch-chest" leader, who recently insulted Sheikh Hasina for combatting terrorism "despite" being a woman.
This puerile argument comprehensively misunderstands history—today's India was not one nation for a thousand years—and geopolitics. Confident, prudent nation-states don't violate their neighbours' borders; they know that healthy relations with them are key to their own security.
After the Khaplang faction killed 18 Indian troops on June 4 in Manipur, India could have conducted joint operations against it with the Myanmar army, with which it has good relations.
India entered into ceasefire agreements with both the Isak-Swu-Thuingaleng-Muivah (IM) and Khaplang factions of the NSCN respectively in 1997 and 2001. It had ample opportunity to renew the ceasefire with Khaplang which ended in March.
Alternatively, it could have roped in Naga civil society groups to persuade Khaplang to explore peace. Nagaland Chief Minister Zeliang says such groups have credibility.
Indian intelligence agencies did neither. They failed to keep the Manipur and Nagaland governments in the loop, and ignored the emerging coalition between Khaplang and other small North-eastern militants.
In its hastily-conceived retaliation, India attacked proximate rebel-bases for "political" reasons—not because they harboured many insurgents. Contradictory claims were made about the number killed: 20, even 100; but only seven bodies were recovered, says The Indian Express.
India could have negotiated joint anti-militant operations with the Myanmarese army, as it has done in Bhutan and Bangladesh.
The reason why India didn't even try is the Modi government's jingoism and its domination by super-hawks like National Security Adviser AK Doval, who prefer cloak-and-dagger methods.
Doval, a former intelligence man, is a firm believer in coercion, not diplomacy, to resolve all conflicts. He believes India-Pakistan peaceful co-existence is virtually impossible.
Both countries are nuclear-armed and so close that a nuclear exchange would lead to large-scale devastation and irreversible regional climatic change. As Kargil showed, conventional war rhetoric can lead to nuclear sabre-rattling, with horrifying consequences.
The second reaction recommends discretion: let covert operations speak for themselves. Yet, it fails to understand that protracted conflicts aren't decided by covert operations, but need strategic foresight and astute diplomacy. So it holds that a modern state must practice deception, skulduggery and lawlessness in exceptional circumstances.
Implicit here are three assumptions: first, covert operations successfully neutralise insurgents or terrorists; second, it's legitimate to use extreme/inhuman methods in special circumstances; third, democracies can return to normal political-social negotiation once a crisis has passed.
All three assumptions are questionable. In the 1950s, India collaborated with the CIA to instigate the so-called Tibetan Khampa Rebellion against China. The CIA abandoned it after sacrificing thousands of Tibetans. India earned China's hostility, revealed in 1962.
India joined a dangerous CIA-sponsored covert operation in 1965 to place espionage equipment energised by a plutonium power-pack on Nanda Devi to monitor Chinese nuclear activities. An avalanche prevented its placement. It has remained untraceable, raising fears of radioactive contamination of glaciers and the Ganga.
In 1987, India air-dropped "humanitarian" aid in northern Sri Lanka, and imposed the India-Sri Lanka accord on Colombo. India's "peace-keeping" operation cost it 1,200 soldiers—more than in all other wars—and led to Rajeev Gandhi's assassination.
Secondly, it's difficult to draw the line between lethal military attacks, and torture, hostage-taking, fake encounters, etc. They are all rationalised in the name of necessity to "deter" further attacks, or choosing "the lesser evil". They form a slippery ethical slope, which permits increasingly brutal acts; ultimately, all limits collapse.
If torturing one person saves a hundred lives, wouldn't that be justified? This argument may seem attractive, but it's dangerously wrong. It violates the right to life and often produces false results which might lead to yet more violence.
By violating human rights, a democratic state undermines its claim to legality; it loses popular legitimacy. That's why "fake" encounters add to the cesspool of grievances that feed extremism.
In Mizoram, the Indian state created Malaya-Vietnam-style "strategic hamlets" by forcibly grouping villages. In Nagaland, Manipur and Assam, it waged war on its own people. This fuelled militancy.
The more ruthlessly the militancy was repressed, the greater were the civilian casualties. Hundreds of civilians were dehumanised through torture and forced labour in Manipur's "successful" Operation Loktak in 1999.
Finally, the state doesn't know when to stop. The draconian Armed Forces Special Powers Act was introduced in 1958 as a "temporary" measure. It continues to operate in Kashmir and most North-Eastern states, barring Tripura.
The Myanmar raid forms part of the same vile pattern. This must end. For real long-term peace, India must talk to its alienated citizens without coercion.
The writer is an eminent Indian columnist.
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