Daily Times

Sunday, January 21, 2007

1965. 1999. Thirty-four years. No change of thinking. We are consistent and dogged. That’s a quality generally found among the asinine population

Let’s get this straight. Every state needs an army which means the army is a public good; which also means no objective person can be opposed to the army per se. The problem begins when an army decides that it wants to have a state. The categories of fair and foul go haywire at that point and the politics of a state is turned into one long walpurgesnacht.

I never knew that a remote and somewhat forgotten city of Southern Punjab, Bahawalpur, would come alive on these pages. The last time it got regular projection was when friend N, now Lady N, wrote Letter from Bahawalpur. But that was years ago and Bahawalpur had to wait for the recent exchange (Dr Siddiqa, angry letter, my column, a spate of angry letters!) to emerge on the national map.

The other good thing that has happened is the letting out of a secret (actually not so secret in hack-business) — there is a full stable of bhanjas in this country who jump at the drop of a hat to defend the mamas.

But let me get to a letter that makes a great peg for this piece, coup de grace, I hope.

This reader wrote: “I take strong exception to what Mr Haider has written in reply to Mr Farooq Abbas’ letter in the Jan 16 issue: ‘Also, it is a shame that Mr Abbas is not linked to the Pakistan army. His kind of narrow intelligence becomes a good and motivated soldier’. He [the present writer] has no right to pass judgement on the intelligence of a group of people (the military).”
What did I mean by “narrow intelligence”? Was I being facetious or biased or contemptuous? None of the above; I was being factual.

This is how it goes.

All armies face tension between the requirement to acculturate and innovate. Acculturation means the soldier (officers down to other ranks) has to be subsumed in the military culture. This is important not only to bring into the club disparate people from different ethnic and linguistic groups and socio-economic backgrounds but essential also in terms of their responses and training to the routine, equipment and contingencies. Standard operating procedures are crucial for survival. But they have a flipside. The majority develops a narrow, functional intelligence of the kind contained in Lord Alfred Tennyson’s “Theirs not to reason why,/Theirs but to do and die”.

At the other end of the spectrum is the requirement to innovate. Plans cater to all possible contingencies; still, not all situations can be forethought. Equipment can break down requiring cannibalising or some other improvisation. Situations can defy original plans demanding fresh and quick thinking. Handling men in arduous situations can put pressure on leaders to devise new leadership techniques and so on.

It is a difficult job, wedding the two. But the interesting point is that much of the innovation I have written about relates to tactical operations or at best operational strategy. The question at this juncture is this: even if we ignore the burden of acculturation, can innovative thinking in the field necessarily translate into sound, multi-dimensional analysis at the level of national strategy?

The answer, largely, will be in the negative. Organisation theory postulates two — among others — problems in large bureaucratic organisations: bounded rationality and systematic stupidity. The khakis are no exception; indeed, since they also claim to be an army that has a state, bounded rationality and systematic stupidity in their case can have national repercussions.

Please note that this column is not meant to be a detailed analysis of some very serious issues. But I shall try, quickly, to make the point apropos some instances.

In 1965, we convinced ourselves that after we had attacked along the then-CFL (ceasefire line, now Line of Control), India would play the game according to our rules and not exercise its sovereign and eminently sensible option to stretch us. As Maj-Gen Sher Bahadur admitted: “It was wishful thinking on our part” (quoted in “The Pakistan Army War 1965” by Maj.-Gen Shaukat Riza; p280).

At another place in the book, Maj.-Gen Riza wrote: “Operation Grandslam was a gamble in which the other side did not play according to our rules...In attacking across the cease-fire line we convinced ourselves that the other side would limit the fighting to Kashmir.”

Fast forward to 1999 and 2006, the year we received the current bible of the army, “In the Line of Fire”: “The Kargil conflict, as compared with earlier wars against India, was more intense and of longer duration. The Indians had mobilised troops far out of proportion to the situation, by massing a larger number of infantry and artillery assets...” (p-98).

The italics are mine. “Far out of proportion”? I ask you! Should the Indians have sought our opinion on how to fight so we (Pakistan) could have the advantage we needed? Quite obviously, our strategic objectives are holier than theirs.

1965. 1999. Thirty-four years. No change of thinking. We are consistent and dogged. That’s a quality generally found among the asinine population.

Two more grand strategic plans from the Napoleons: We will defend the East in the West. We need strategic depth and must therefore control Afghanistan. On the first count, Bangladesh is a separate SAARC state; on the second, we have just decided to fence and mine select areas along the Durand Line.

In Australia, they call this kind of grand strategic vision a boomerang.

There was also an interesting operational plan before 1965. It was developed in conjunction with Air Headquarters. SSG teams were supposed to be airdropped near five (later reduced to three) Indian airfields. They were to destroy the Indian fighter aircraft in the hangers. The primary ex-filtration option was that our men would be picked up by C130s landing at Indian airfields. The second, bad option was ground ex-filtration. (I ask you!!!!)

What happened to that plan and those teams I leave to the gentle reader’s imagination.

This is what Micky narrated to me once while on our way to his lovely home in Wah.

Two senior Pashtun officials, one a former bureaucrat, the other an army officer, were reminiscing on a winter evening. The civilian asked the army-wallah: “Aa’laka, vy diid you aatake India in seexty-five.” The army-wallah responded by saying: “Ve diid naat tink Eendia vil aatake Pakistan aelaang the eenternaitional baader.” Upon which, the civilian asked: “Aa’laka, vy you tthat!”

No one can better this. I too ask: Aa’laka vy you teenk; een fakt, do you.