The Meadow suggests the unthinkable

By Ghazala Wahab

In the end it didn’t matter who killed the five foreign trekkers in the Kashmiri paradise. What matters is that those who could have saved them chose not to do so for reasons that can only be termed diabolical. This is the single most shocking conclusion of the 450-page, painstakingly researched and meticulously detailed book, The Meadow, written by Adrian Levy and Cathy Scott-Clark.

In the summer of 1995, six foreign trekkers — two Americans (Don Hutchings and John Childs), two British (Keith Mangan and Paul Wells), one Norwegian (Hans Christian Ostro) and one German (Dirk Hasert) — were kidnapped near Pahalgam in Kashmir in a span of a few days by an unknown group called al Faran. For a few days, the story made the front pages of the Indian newspapers speculating the identity of al Faran but also because within four days of the kidnapping, John Childs escaped. Thereafter, the kidnapping once again made news when Han Christian’s mutilated body was discovered more than a month later. Then, it fell off the radar. Sporadic reports appeared once in a while about the kidnappers’ demands till those too dried up and the four men disappeared from public memory.

I remembered the kidnapping incident when I started reporting on Kashmir nearly nine years ago. But I could not recall what eventually happened to Don Hutchings, Keith Mangan, Paul Wells and Dirk Hasert. During one of my visits to the state a few years ago, I asked a few people, journalists included, about the aftermath of the kidnapping. Were the hostages killed? Were they released in a secret compact? The answer was a shrug. People had no memory of what had happened to them. I was not the only one who had forgotten what had happened to them. It seems, except for the families of the four hostages, the world had forgotten too. ‘Until Now’, write the authors in the prologue.

Adrian Levy and Cathy Scott-Clark have not merely chronicled the kidnapping; they have attempted to tell the story of six unfortunate souls caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, along with that of their families. Woven from intensive interactions with the family members and also from the notes most of them wrote before and during their confinement, The Meadow — racy, though sometimes overwritten — builds up to the kidnapping almost like a thriller, introducing each character gradually before arriving at the denouement through multiple sources. Reading the book, one gets to know each hostage intimately, developing a fondness for them, fervently hoping for a happy ending.

But in the Kashmir of the Nineties, there were no happy endings. The happiest were the tragic endings because at least there was closure; the surviving members could mourn and bury their dead. For the rest, as for the family members of the four, life was reduced to following up with indifferent officials about the fate of the loved ones; with hope sometimes, but mostly with despair.

At some point during the incarceration, the hostages lived in Warwan Valley, east of which was Kargil. On clear days, they could see the majestic Nun-Kun massif, which are the highest Himalayan peaks in Kashmir. The shorter of the two peaks, Kun, means ‘what is’, while Nun means ‘what appears to be’. Ironically, the story of the four, as told by Levy and Scott-Clark constantly hovers between what was and what appeared to be.

Even by most Indian accounts, Nineties were the darkest Kashmiri years. Nothing was in black and white, everything being the colour of blood. Taken completely by surprise, by the uprising of 1989 and the rapid support it found among the people, the Indian government was desperate to convey to the world that what was happening in Kashmir was not an insurgency but acts of terrorism perpetuated by Pakistan. In its desperation and also to wrest physical control over the territories where militants (both Kashmiris and foreign) had a free run, accountability and humanity were given a go by. The orders from the top were to get rid of the militants/terrorists and their supporters by all means. Since the desperate government had given a long rope to the security forces, they in turn outsourced the dirty job to mercenaries (renegade militants) with one brief: Each kill will be rewarded in hard cash. In just a few years, Kashmir was in the grip of a different kind of terror unleashed by the renegades, hordes of whom built palatial houses for themselves on the bodies of those they had killed for money. It was immaterial who the dead were, as long as they were dead.

It was in these times that the legend of the unknown gunmen first came about and persists even today. The legend was useful. It hid in its fold the ugliness of both the law-breakers and the law-enforcers because in the Nineties there was a thin line dividing the two. The only difference between them was the flag under which they operated. Countless Kashmiris have been killed by unknown gunmen and the legend continues.

In this dangerous land, the trekkers arrived in the summer of 1995. There were no advisories to refer to, and the desperate tourism office of Srinagar painted a rosy picture. All trekkers were told at different times that trekking in and around Pahalgam was perfectly safe. Kicked about the ensuing adventure, the tourists ignored the fortified valley and the overwhelming presence of the security forces. The landscape was too beautiful, the people too hospitable; till they were betrayed by both.

Al Faran was less of a group and more of an operation mounted by ISI’s Harkat-ul-Ansar to secure the release of Masood Azhar and his compatriots lodged in Indian prisons. According to the book, the middle-level Kashmir police officers were able to figure that out within a few days of the kidnapping. Without any directions from the government of India, as J&K was under the Governor’s rule then, J&K police crime branch under inspector general Rajinder Tickoo ordered the creation of a secret investigative team, Squad, to figure out the kidnappings. A superintendent of police, Mushtaq Mohammed Sadiq headed the Squad. However, within weeks of the Squad getting to work, Tickoo found himself in the middle of the kidnapping fracas in the most unexpected manner. Summoned by the military advisor to the Governor, Lt Gen. D.D. Saklani (retd), Tickoo was asked to receive a phone call made by the kidnappers’ source. Tickoo’s brief was to talk and give away nothing.

Meanwhile, the Squad moved very fast, spreading its investigators among the local population, even infiltrating the Gujjar villages where the hostages were being held. Its reports to the headquarters gave painstaking details about the location and the conditions of the hostages, as well as the number of kidnappers, their duty hours, their relations with the victims and so on. The Squad was not the only one keeping a track of the kidnap party. Military reconnaissance helicopters also frequently hovered over the area where the hostages were kept for several months. The pictures it took were so close and sharp that even beads of perspiration could be seen on the faces of the hostages playing volley ball with their captors.

Yet, all requests of the Squad for a rescue operation went unanswered. Tickoo was also directed by Gen. Saklani to drag the conversation as the government of India was in no mood for negotiations. ‘There’d be no prisoner exchange,’ Saklani had made it clear. With no room for manoeuvre and no intentions of mounting a rescue operation, people like Tickoo and Sadiq improvised as they went along trying to ensure that the hostages were not harmed.

Since nobody in the government has spoken to the writers, except retired spooks who ran the unintelligible government of India policy in Kashmir, Chevy and Scott-Clark can only guesstimate what was going on. The first priority of Prime Minister Narasimha Rao’s government was the safe conclusion of the Amarnath Pilgrimage. The entire security machinery, from Rashtriya Rifles to the state police and the Paramilitary were deployed along the pilgrimage route. Despite this, the fact that the foreigners were kidnapped from the same location just days before the pilgrimage baffles the writers. Once John Childs escaped after spending four days in captivity, the kidnappers returned to the valley where trekkers were camped and were able to kidnap two more in broad daylight. The impregnable security cordon neither deterred them nor prevented the kidnapping.

Not surprisingly, the writers wonder if the kidnapping was allowed to happen, a belief reinforced by the fact that every time Tickoo reached some kind of a breakthrough in his secret negotiations with the kidnappers, eventually coming to the point when the kidnappers were ready to trade the hostages for a mere Rs 10 million, the contents of the negotiations were leaked to the press and the talks collapsed. In frustration, Tickoo went away on a long leave.

Desperate, the kidnappers approached Syed Ali Shah Geelani-headed Hurriyat Conference to broker a face-saving solution. He refused to get involved. As winters approached, the kidnappers’ desperation increased and they finally abandoned the hostages in December and fled. By Squad’s account, the hostages were handed over to the renegades (who reported to the local RR unit) and the notorious STF combine. As the kidnappers made their way out of the valley where the hostages were left behind, all of them were killed by the RR. Still, no effort was made to rescue the hostages.

While the Squad’ sources informed it that the hostages were killed on December 24 by the renegades/STF on the orders of their handlers (was it the RR, IB or both, the question is left tantalisingly dangling in the air) in the spring of 1996, the army produced a man called Naseer who it claimed was one of the handlers of the kidnappers. The man confessed that the hostages were killed by the kidnappers in the second week of December and even claimed to know where they were buried. A grand expedition was launched in which diplomats from the four Missions were invited apart from many others, to locate the graves but to no avail. Finally, the search was abandoned. In the following weeks the state police and the newly-elected state government discredited Naseer. The families were again told that hostages were alive. And that’s where the tale hangs.

Were the foreigners treated as sacrificial lambs in the unholy game of one-upmanship? Did the Indian government allow the killing of the foreigners to put an international spotlight on Pakistan as the sponsor of terrorism in India? After all, India has always traded prisoners for hostages. It did so before this incident, it did so after this incident and continues to do so even now. Like the unknown gunmen, these questions are also part of the murkiness that rules in Kashmir; the answers being too gross to countenance.

There are two ways a book like The Meadow can be treated: junk it as far-fetched, or read it to reflect on how we allowed short-term politics to brutalise and dehumanise our people and those who were meant to protect them. If a uniformed person does not flinch killing an innocent, he is a danger even to the institution he represents.

The Meadow

Adrian Levy and Cathy Scott-Clark

Penguin Books

Rs 499, Pg 490

Still at Sea

The crowd never thins at the Gateway of India in Mumbai, the commemorative monument that will now be remembered more for the terrorists who stepped through it to ravish the city than for King George V and Queen Mary, in whose honour it was built in 1911. While several lean back on the meandering low wall next to the Gateway and gaze at the Taj Mahal hotel, more look out to the sea: The wrathful waves lash at the walls before crashing against the rocks. Like coastal people everywhere else, sea has been a comforting source of livelihood, romance, poetry and sometimes unexpected accidents in Mumbai, but it was never expected to have connived with the enemy. Just how did the insulating folds of the waves become instruments of hostility?
A senior officer from the Indian Navy says, “Between the 26th and the 29th of November last year, the violent and tragic death of some 180 Indian citizens and foreigners in Mumbai, cruelly underscored one of the most abiding lessons of the history of India, in that whenever we have neglected maritime security, the effects have been painful and long-lasting.” The effects on 26/11 will certainly be long-lasting, especially if the government refuses to learn the right lessons. And already there are signs that indeed this might be happening.
Just as the Kargil conflict, that brought home the glaring gaps in intelligence gathering/sharing and border management among other things, forced the government to look at the entire gamut of national security in a holistic way (and led to the creation of various committees under the group of ministers focussing on issues like intelligence, border and management and so on), 26/11 led to a similar exercise. Ironically, the post-Kargil holistic exercise promised to deliver in two areas, border management and intelligence (with higher defence management remaining in cold storage), and it was these two that failed yet again. After the hard-won Kargil conflict, the government of the day realised that there was a serious lack of communication between all the multifarious intelligence agencies — turf war, lack of trust, or sheer pettiness that the other should not get the credit —, hence the government created a 24-hour Multi Agency Centre (MAC) within the Intelligence Bureau to work as a coordinator between all the intelligence agencies like R&AW, military intelligence, state police, Para-military forces and so on. The idea was to create a seamless network of intelligence flow from the collector to the interpreter, analyser and the executor. But MAC remained still born. The individual personalities, egos and absence of executive direction collectively buried what could have been a beginning of inter-agency cooperation.
Border management fared a little better, but was hampered by the land-locked vision. So while the government enunciated and executed the policy of one border one force on the land, the coastal border remained at sea. Despite the surprised breach of the Himalayan frontier, nobody in the government seriously thought that sea would be no protection either. An ad hoc arrangement carried on between the Indian Navy, Coast Guard (ICG) and a half-baked entity called the marine police to guard what was vaguely called the coastal border of India. Since the whole system was amorphous there was no accountability. And nobody knew where the buck stopped.
How lose the structures were and how petty institutional leadership was, was evident when a blame game started between various agencies after the November 26 attack. Deliberate leaks were fed to the media by the intelligence agencies apportioning the blame on the Indian Navy, which in turn defended itself by rubbishing the claims of timely intelligence by saying that it was not actionable. Meanwhile, coast guard offered its stock of explanations for why the lapse was not on their part. And nobody even bothered about the marine police because clearly nothing was expected of them. Since everyone was on their own in this, there was no accountability and no fixing of responsibility. “But because the terrorists came from the sea, people at large assumed that the navy should be held accountable. Do you hold the army accountable when the terrorists come by road, like in the case of Indian Parliament?” asks one senior naval officer.
Perhaps, it is a harsh indictment on the people, given that the government or the Indian State itself did not completely appreciate the concept of what comprises coastal security, or even the maritime border. India has a coastline running into 7,516km. But this is not really the maritime ‘border’, which lies a further 12 miles seaward from the declared baseline of the country. A baseline is drawn along the furthest points of a country’s coast, taking into account all the promontories as some coastlines are not linear, for instance, Bangladesh. Given this, the baselines also often are a little away from the actual coast. This 12-mile sea belt is called the territorial waters, which are as much part of the country as the land itself. Interestingly, Pakistan, given certain promontories on its coast has drawn its baselines way off the coast, thereby giving itself territorial waters of almost 32 miles in certain parts. While Indian Navy did raise objections to this, but they have been at best half-hearted. Two hundred nautical miles beyond the territorial waters lie the country’s Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ).
In terms of securing this vast expanse of sea, before November 26, the ICG was responsible for, in the words of director general ICG, Vice Admiral Anil Chopra, “Continuous surveillance of over 2.2 million sqkm of India’s EEZ, and respond to distress calls in the Indian Search and Rescue Region which spans over four million square kilometers.” Territorial waters in India, which are merely the aqueous form of the country, were the responsibility of the marine police. Using the analogy of continental security to explain coastal security, a naval officer says, “Within the borders of India, the ‘dissuasive’, ‘deterrent’, ‘preventive’ and ‘curative’ functions of the State are carried out along a ‘degrade path’ upon which the principal mechanism is the police. When the police fails, the State proceeds down its ‘degrade path’ and calls upon its ‘armed police’, then its ‘Paramilitary forces’. It is only once all these mechanisms have failed that the State calls upon its military. Since the laws of the Republic of India apply in full measure to uphold the majesty of the State throughout the 12-mile limit of the territorial waters of India, the principal mechanism by which the State must carry out its ‘dissuasive’, ‘deterrent’, ‘preventive’ and ‘curative’ functions, remains the police. The degrade path here will be the same, and the paramilitary option, if required, would be exercised through the deployment of the Indian Coast Guard. Thus, for the government to proceed right to the end of its ‘degrade path’ to the navy, within its territory, can only be an interim solution and certainly not a permanent or even a long-lasting one. The mere fact of variations in the physical character of the territory (‘land’ versus ‘water’) can hardly be taken to be a valid determinant. If, for instance, a violation of the country’s laws were to have occurred in Nainital lake, should the government call in the navy, simply because the medium of the territory is water? Why then should it be any different within the sovereign-territory of India that happens to abut its coastline?”
Given this, if indeed there was intelligence about a vessel in the Indian territory, it had to be shared with the police and perhaps after that the ICG. But such was the confusion, when the attack took place that everyone jumped in the fray, including the marine commandos, who given their location in Mumbai were the first to respond. Given the situation, they could have hardly sat on procedures, but the point is, there were no procedures for anyone to follow, despite the supposed revamp of border security after the surprise in Kargil. Mention of this endemic confusion found its way in the report FBI submitted to the US Senate committee. According to the report: The Indian response to the Mumbai terror attack was hamstrung by lack of coordination between ‘different levels of the government’ and the local police’s inadequate training and lack of ‘powerful’ weapons. It further says that, ‘Unified command system is of paramount importance if governments are to respond to terrorist attacks quickly and effectively.’
In a few months, we would be ready to commemorate the first anniversary of the November 26 attacks in Mumbai. Long enough time for lessons to be learned, inter-agency differences to be papered off, security gaps to be plugged in and the consciousness about the exact nature of threats India faces to sink in. And once again it seems that there is a post-Kargil like holistic review, this time, because the attackers came from the sea and not the mountains, with the coast in mind. And yet again, there is a fear that once the immediacy ceases, things will relapse into the happy state of complacency.
However, before that happens, here is what the government has done. Among the very first things that the new minister of home affairs, P. Chidambaram did (he succeeded Shivraj Patil, who paid the price for the 26/11 attack) was announce the creation of something called National Intelligence Agency (NIA), which many view as a rival to the IB. Till now, the NIA continues to look for basic facilities to house the organisation. The comatose MAC was revived and various organisations were asked to depute a representative to it. Looking seaward, it has now come up with a maritime security plan, under which the navy is the ‘designated authority’ responsible for complete maritime security, with both coastal and offshore security under its control. The ICG will no longer patrol the EEZ, but instead focus on the territorial waters under the navy’s supervision. As the DG ICG says (see interview), “Post 26/11, the Coast Guard has now been given additional responsibility of coastal security in India’s territorial waters i.e., up to 12 miles from our coastline.” In addition to this, yet another effort is being made to overhaul the moribund marine police, who will now stay close to the shore and if need be patrol the seas up to three to four kilometers. In an effort to fix responsibility, under the overall command of the navy, the ICG will be designated as the authority for coastal security in territorial waters, including areas patrolled by state coastal police. The DG, ICG will be designated as commander of coastal command that would be responsible for overall coordination between state and central agencies.
Making these announcements in February 2009, the Union defence minister, A.K. Antony also said that, “The navy will control all navy and coast guard joint operations. This will ensure that the assets are optimally deployed and there is synergy between the two organisations.” To facilitate this, a national command, control, communication and intelligence network will be set up to ensure smooth coordination between the navy and the coast guard. That apart, joint operation centres will come up in Mumbai, Kochi, Vishakhapatnam and Port Blair. Also on the anvil are nine additional coast guard stations to integrate with coastal police stations located at Karwar, Ratnagiri, Vadinar, Gopalpur, Minicoy, Androth, Karaikal, Hut Bay and Nizampatnam. New posts of additional director general and three deputy DGs have also been sanctioned in addition to 20 per cent increase in ships and 30 per cent increase for shore support.
Despite these tactical-level initiatives, the government has come in for criticism for not creating formalised structures that would oversee and evolve the concepts in maritime security which goes beyond coastal security. Like the creation of the Chief of Defence Staff, the government is dragging its feet on Maritime Security Advisory Board and maritime security advisor. Says a naval officer, “Our efforts to constitute a single agency to oversee, coordinate, and regulate all activities at sea, had been characterised by a desire to arrive at a compromise-solution, which would avoid generating turf-sensitivities, and, one that would, therefore, be acceptable to the majority of stake-holders. While noble in intent and pragmatic in approach, such a solution is inevitably long-drawn in its formulation and acceptance, and, more importantly, sub-optimally efficient in its execution. In view of the imperative of avoiding any repetition of the Mumbai tragedy, this ‘compromise-formula’-based approach is clearly no longer a viable one. Yet, the government has been unable (or unwilling) to create a suitably empowered maritime security advisor who would be able to meaningfully assist the National Security Advisor, within the maritime domain.”
To make up for this, what is going to be created is a high-level committee headed by Cabinet secretary K.M. Chandrasekhar to regularly review coastal security. This committee will include the navy chief, secretaries of such ministries as defence, home and petroleum as well as chief secretaries of all coastal states. Clearly, the government wants the bureaucrats to remain at the top. And equally clear in these series of measures is the inherent confusion that will prevail eventually. Maybe, because in India, turfs are difficult to come by, and nobody wants to let go of what it has, and the government is simply delicately tottering around these sensitivities.
Assuaging the navy, the defence minister in an interaction with the media in February 2009 said that, “In the future, we have to give more support to the Navy. We have to be more careful in the seas, as 90 per cent of India’s international trade is carried out through the sea route.” As a mark of government’s commitment towards coastal security, several interceptor boats, off-shore patrol vessels, radars and surveillance aircraft and helicopters have been sanctioned. In all, 194 high-speed interceptor boats are supposed to be procured on a fast track basis. But this is easier said than done, because boats cannot be bought off the shelf. Moreover, all procurements have to follow the laid down procurement procedure, which of course is time-consuming, lest some irregularities are discovered (like kickbacks, for instance) a few years later. Which is why, a senior naval officer scoffs at the idea of ‘fast-track’. According to him, “The need for the speedy procurement of adequate numbers of suitable patrol-craft is well recognised. Yet, the monies allocated for this purpose are public funds and need to be expended with due fiscal prudence. This brings in ‘procedures’, with their attendant, and often significant, delays, especially at the bureaucratic overseeing levels.”
It is not just the MoD that is looking for the boats. The ministry of home affairs is also keen to procure them at the earliest for the state police. In early July, home minister P Chidambaram held a meeting to review the indigenous manufacturing of high-speed interceptor boats. As of now, 13 boats have been supplied to Gujarat, Maharashtra, Karnataka, Tamil Nadu, Orissa, Goa, Lakshadweep and Pondicherry. These dual jet engine boats are equipped with GPS, a radar, a powerful search light and binoculars. Duplication of assets seems imminent, but obviously this is not the time to talk about it. That will be the job of Comptroller and Auditor General a few years later.
What is exercising the navy is that the government is focussing only on coastal or border security and not maritime security which has a different connotation altogether. Just as it is trying to fence all the land borders, it is trying to achieve the marine equivalent of fencing on the coast as well with the focus on 24/7 patrolling and seamless radar coverage, which incidentally still has a long way to go. The navy looks at coastal security, not in terms of ‘fencing ourselves in’, but in terms of enhancing the maritime surveillance capability: Continuous, omnipresent, gapless surveillance. As one officer says, “At the regional and extra-regional level, this translates into a continuous scanning of the primary and secondary areas of maritime interest..., the determining of ‘who’ is doing ‘what’, ‘when’, ‘where’, ‘how’ and ‘why’... the identification of potential threats while they are still distant from our shores and in an embryonic stage of development, rather than when they are full-blown and at our doorstep. This involves Maritime Domain Awareness (MDA) of a high order and over a very large maritime expanse.”
Further expanding on the theme, he says, “On the coast itself, this translates into a fully networked chain of coastal-radars, integrated with AIS (Automatic Identification System) and LRIT (Long Range Identification and Tracking) receivers, as also receivers for the ISRO-designed transmitting beacons which are expected to shortly be fitted aboard fishing and other small craft, the entire chain being controlled through a hierarchy of shore-based nodes (Joint Operations Rooms) in which the ‘picture’ from each of these and other sensors can be collected, collated (synthesised), cross-referenced, displayed and disseminated. These sensors would be augmented by space-based, airborne and ship-borne surveillance-means. Integrating all these inputs is the challenge that needs to be overcome and it is here that we can benefit most from the experiences of foreign navies, such as those of Australia, France, Israel, etc.” The greater challenge is not equipment, but trained man-power, because even when equipment is procured, developing human skills will take time, particularly when it comes to the police forces, which not only need to learn to use different kinds of weaponry but also acquire a different mental make-up.
While the government supports navy’s expansive concept of MDA being intrinsic to maritime security in fits and starts, it does not fully appreciates the virtues of such an idea to give it sustained attention, especially after 26/11 when there is a fear that the navy may be required to do more policing in tune with the government’s defensive policy on the land borders. Naval officers are at pains to emphasise that its visions of MDA does not imply lack of concern for border security. “Indeed,” says one, “the navy’s prime responsibility, like that of the Indian Army and the Indian Air Force, is to protect the country from such external threat as might undermine the territorial integrity of the country.”
“However,” he says, “The manner in which this needs to be done is quite different from that of the army’s protection of the country’s land borders. In maritime terms, ‘neighbours’ can be acquired with an ease and speed that tend to overwhelm a purely continental mindset.” He uses the model devised by Rear Admiral K. Raja Menon to illustrate his point. According to Admiral Menon: “Current technology allows a modern, Carrier Strike Group (CSG) to exert its power to a range of 400 nautical miles (740 km) around it. This circle may be considered to define the area of superiority within which the air and sea space may be said to almost ‘belong’ to the nation owning that Carrier Strike Group. To all practical (although not legal) intents and purposes, therefore, this is a moving area of ‘sovereignty’. When such a CSG’s circle of superiority impinges upon – say, the Indian coast – we have suddenly acquired a new and powerful ‘neighbour’ who (as long as he remains where he is) may even be superior to us. Now we could choose to counter this superiority by building, say, an air-base at this point. However, what needs to be appreciated is that such Carrier Strike Groups can move up to a 1,000 km in a single day, and have a disconcerting habit of disappearing and appearing in odd places with little or no warning. It is, therefore, impossible to site relatively static defensive formations, such as airfields, cantonments, etc, all along our coast. This would, in any case, be poor strategy. Instead, the capability of another country to appear, threaten, coerce, and/or influence us, can only be countered by our own mobile force.”
This thinking encompasses what the navy calls strategic reach, or the ability to influence things way beyond its maritime boundaries. This calls for not just a different capability (certainly not defensive) but thinking as well. Unless coastal security forms part of the overall maritime security, the enemy will continue to find the gaps or weak links. After all, soldiers can hardly stand arm in arm all along the coastline.

Weep India Weep

Never before have issues of internal security and terrorism been as undermined as they have been done in the last few weeks. The entire debate on security, the multifarious nature of terrorism and strengthening of the response mechanism has been reduced to two words by the political class: Hang Afzal. What does it say about India as a country that for the biggest Opposition party and the man who would be prime minister, one fringe person has become symbolic of the nation’s commitment, or lack of it, to ensure security of its people. How much more will issues of national security and national integrity be trivialised at the altar of electoral politics before it is understood that certain subjects should be beyond party politics. Now that we are faced with a new threat, in the form of extremist-Hindutva forces, in addition to the already existing extremist-Islamic forces, it is absolutely critical that Indian political class rise above petty, short-terms objectives. Today, terrorism is not a threat to life and property alone but to the very fabric of Indian nationhood.
There has always been a school of thought that believed that the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh is the most dangerously divisive force in the country. From time to time, the divisiveness has been cleverly couched in educational, social and cultural activities. By assiduously keeping out of politics, the RSS has remained an almost invisible umbrella under which groups like the Vishwa Hindu Parishad, Bharatiya Janata Party, Bajrang Dal and so on were born and nurtured. And all these years it insidiously penetrated the educational stream in the country (which shapes not only the mind but prejudices too), starting with nursery schools and gradually even colleges. Such has been the reach and success of the RSS-run educational institutions that one constantly bumps into professional people who have, at some stage or the other, been to one or the other of these schools, colleges or post-graduate institutes. They hold their prejudices (especially against the Muslims who remain outsiders for them) very deeply despite their station in life. It is no secret what version of history is taught in these institutes or what lessons in patriotism are imparted to the young impressionable cadets. There have been several reports from time to time about how the government should exercise better control over the education imparted at these institutions. Given how secretive and shadowy RSS has been and that it has been banned by the government in the past, it is a wonder that during its non-banned phases, government has not insisted upon greater transparency and accountability.
The RSS need not be a terrorist organisation, because what it has been doing and envisages to do is even more destructive then what a mere terrorist attack can do. It has succeeded in converting a large number of people (fortunately, they are still a minority) to its line of exclusivist and divisive thinking, so much so, that the BJP today is convinced that raising the Hindutva banner once again will get it the winning votes. Despite former Prime Minister Atal Behari Vajpayee admitting that not sacking the Narendra Modi government was a mistake, Modi has consistently been the BJP star campaigner, even in Delhi. The purported prime minister to be, Lal Krishen Advani, has hitched his political fortunes onto the suspects in the terror strike in Malegaon, even when the investigations are on. He has obviously been advised that this move will propel him to the top job. So unlike the last campaign where the BJP was sticking to economic issues by way of India Shining, today the biggest totem is terrorism, with ‘hang Azfal’ being Advani’s clarion call in his public meetings.
Instead of getting worried and doing some soul-searching about the long term impact of RSS making inroads in the Indian armed forces to such an extent that the officer who takes an oath to protect his motherland indulges in acts of war and sedition against the state for the sake of religion, the BJP has reduced the discussion to Hindu terrorist versus Muslim terrorist. That RSS holds sway over certain officers of the armed forces has been well-known for a while now, given the numbers who flock to the BJP after retirement. But at least, they abided by the honour of the office they held and the uniform they wore as long as they were in service. But the recent Malegaon incident has robbed us of this comfort as well. So far we had to contend with the prejudiced sections among the police, now the spectre of this prejudice creeping in the last bastion of nobility looms.
At the time of writing this piece on November 27, the gun-battle was still going on in Mumbai following the terrorist attack the previous night. Will this attack still be called terrorism or an act of war will have to be seen, but whatever it may be, one thing is clear, terrorism cannot be fought by reaping electoral harvest over the dead. Is it at all possible that in this season of electioneering, we do not trivialise these anti-national activities?

What Terrorism?

After dithering on the idea for a long time and grappling with semantics even longer, the Dar-ul-Uloom seminary in Deoband finally found the words to denounce terrorism in February this year. In the presence of a large number of Muslim scholars from all over India, the head of Dar-ul-Uloom, Maulana Marghoobur Rahman, said, “There is no place for terrorism in Islam”. Calling Islam a religion of love and peace, he described terrorism as a thoughtless act of violence against innocent people, whether committed by an individual, an institution or a government and is against the teachings of Islam.
Given the mildness of the statement, it was surprising how a big deal was made of this pronouncement. Analysts argued that though it was long overdue, the fact that Dar-ul-Uloom had finally condemned terrorism would be a big blow to the likes of al Qaeda, Lashkar-e-Taiyyaba, Jaish-e-Mohammed and other such groups which claim theological affiliation with the biggest Islamic seminary in South Asia (some insist it is the second most important in the world after al Azhar University of Egypt, as it has influenced in some way or the other maximum schools of Islamic thought). Many also said that this fatwa would discourage those who were being brain-washed in various madarassas, especially in Pakistan, from joining these terrorist groups. Apparently, when these groups go out on recruitment drives to these madarassas, they carry the name of Dar-ul-Uloom as a reference letter. So now that it has officially been said that terrorism has no place in Islam, the fence-sitters will not fall prey to the exhortations of the recruiters and see through the ‘fake-ness’ of their reference letters.
Ironically, the religious leaders of various Muslims bodies who had attended the ‘historic’ meeting in February and threw their weight behind the fatwa felt differently as far as its reasons and import were concerned. According to them, they felt compelled to issue the fatwa because many non-Muslims were associating terrorism with Islam. So it was meant to clear these misconceptions. Moreover, in the last few years because of the convenience of arresting bearded and skull-capped Muslims in the aftermath of any terrorist attack, those who had even a passing connection with Deoband or its ancillary units had become particularly vulnerable to police actions. The pronouncement was also meant as a means to protect innocent Muslims from harassment and torture at the hands of the police.
Even if these artless Maulanas hadn’t said as much, it is clear that the significance of such a fatwa is extremely limited. Just as no Muslim in the world believes that Islam supports or condones terrorism, no terrorist thinks that he is committing an act of terror, which is why the famous line that ‘one man’s freedom fighter is another man’s terrorist’. A person who picks up the gun or ties an explosive-laden belt around his body does so believing that his is a righteous path and his sacrifice will improve the lot of his people.
Though today, as the US flounders on its war on terrorism, it is being urged that no distinction should be made on the grounds of good or bad terrorists, the fact remains that barring very few groups, most of the so-called terrorists are waging political battles, even if they resort to what may be called acts of terror. Since they do not consider themselves terrorists, and neither do their supporters, how can the fatwa on terrorism deter them.
Now, if there was a fatwa on Jihad, it would have had a different impact altogether, because for Osama bin Laden and his ilk, the operative word is Jihad and not terrorism. And Jihad has a religious sanction. Instead of denouncing terrorism, had Dar-ul-Uloom held a high level discussion and debate on the concept of Jihad, both Akbar and Asghar, perhaps it would have been more useful. From time to time, sundry Muslim scholars have said that Jihad-e-Akbar (the struggle within, to ensure that one is a better human being) is a greater and nobler cause in comparison to Jihad-e-Asghar which is a violent one meant to be waged against the oppressors. Though very important, this is a benign distinction, which can easily be distorted by vested and clever people. Moreover, the concept of an oppressor is very vague, hence waging a violent Jihad does not require much convincing. This is the reason why if Dar-ul-Uloom seriously wants to set the record straight, it needs to initiate a discussion on Jihad and the importance of distinguishing between the two kinds. Dar-ul-Uloom needs to clearly spell out what Jihad-e-Asghar means, under what circumstances, under whose command and against whom can it be waged. And most importantly, can killing on the sly or non-combatants be accepted as a form of Jihad? Not that most people do not know this, but if a stand against terrorism has to be taken, we might as well start from the root. And while they are at it, they might as well clarify that a fatwa is a mere opinion, not an order that can be enforced, so that a few analysts who are now mulling as to how the Deoband fatwa against terrorism can be enforced are saved the trouble.