| 27 September 2004 | Monday | 11 Shaban 1425 |
A greater role for Japan
Authoritarianism & the third force
A test for Afghan democracy
Price of occupation
While I have talked earlier about the doubts and misgivings that the UN may have about the ambitions of the interim government, one has also to examine why the Americans tamely acquiesced in when the proposal for a government of technocrats was turned down by their own chosen interim government.
Surely, supervision of the elections by neutral technocrats would have been the best guarantee that these were fair and free. Why did they suggest an election timetable that would go into 2005 rather than have them earlier as Ayatollah Sistani had proposed? It was entirely feasible given the fact that more than 60 per cent of the voters had already been registered for ration cards, and that constituencies already existed for Saddam's puppet parliament, and that the insurgency was not then at a very high pitch.
The only answer to this question would appear to be that this was not a faulty judgment with regard to the security situation but a considered decision to delay elections till such time as America's "friends in Iraq" could be ensured victory.
From the start the Pentagon - and even today the Pentagon's influence on America's Iraq policy is significant - was intent on installing its own protege as the kingpin in Iraq.
Today Ahmad Chalabi is in disgrace and stands accused of having passed secret information to Iran. Few will have forgotten, however that Chalabi and his American trained militia were airlifted into Iraq as a prelude to the meeting of Iraqis summoned in Nasseriya.
Had the plans of the Pentagon and Zalmay Khalilzad as the pointman for the Pentagon worked out, Chalabi would then have been anointed as the new ruler of Iraq. It was the massive demonstrations against Chalabi in Nasseriyah and the doubts and misgivings expressed by other US agencies, particularly the State Department, that prevented this outcome.
Currently there is no talk of restructuring the Iraqi oil industry or of its privatization. Merely maintaining production at pre-war levels is a problem. But before the invasion Chalabi had already discussed with the big international oil companies - as reported in the press at that time - the concessions that he as Iraq's ruler would be prepared to offer them. Shortly after Saddam's overthrow there were reports of elaborate plans for the dismantling of the state-owned INOC into three privatized companies to look after production, transmission and retail sale of Iraqi oil.
Clearly for such privatization the only bidders would be the large western companies since there is no indigenous capital available in the country. If this plan is resurrected after the elections and the large western oil companies bid for ownership of Iraq's principal asset, no truly democratic government would ever be able to agree.
This is one facet of the criticism Kerry's team has made of Bush policy. Kerry's foreign policy adviser, Susan Rice, has said, "You know, the United States taxpayer is paying virtually 90 per cent of the costs of the operation in Iraq.
Our troops are bearing 90 per cent of the burden and the casualties. Contrast that with when President Bush's father went to war in the Gulf and 95 per cent of the costs were paid for by our allies and partners".
This was of course said only to emphasize that Bush had failed to bring America's allies into the coalition and not that the cost of the war should be recovered from Iraq's assets but one can be sure that for many of the neoconservatives with interests and connections with the oil industry, this thought certainly formed part of the calculus for going to war and continues to be in their mind despite the problems that have arisen.
It is also known that the US armed forces have already earmarked 14 sites in Iraq for military bases. Surely it entertains no illusion that any freely elected government not beholden to the United States for its election will acquiesce in any such proposal.
Perhaps this proposal has been shelved for the time being. Perhaps the Americans are prepared to negotiate base agreements with a truly democratic government in Iraq but that is a risky proposition and would jeopardize the principal raison d'etre for the war against Iraq: control of the world's second or third largest reserves and removing any possible rival to the Israeli domination of the region.
Bush claimed in his speech to the UN General Assembly, "the future of Afghanistan and Iraq is a future of liberty". Earlier he and his aides have claimed that they want to convert Iraq into a "model of democracy".
Perhaps when they started down the path of war the neoconservatives had convinced themselves that apart from a welcome from cheering crowds, the Americans would also be regarded as benefactors of such a magnitude that the Iraqi people would gladly hand over to them the control of their energy resources and their security policy.
This, it has now been clear for a long time, is what the Iraqi people are not prepared to offer. On the contrary, they believe that this control rather than the well-being of the Iraqi people was the motive for the invasion. They will not willingly or freely elect those who are seen as "collaborators". Iraqi oil is for Iraqis and must remain under Iraqi control.
It is possible that had the UN nominated a neutral interim government, the insurgents would not have been able to gain the ground that they did and perhaps some measure of peace would have been restored. Certainly the insurgents would have been deprived of a considerable part of the public support that they seem to enjoy currently.
The rigidity with which Bush has defended his position on Iraq may flow partly from the consideration that he cannot afford, by acknowledging mistaken goals, to erode his image as a strong and resolute leader who does not falter in the face of difficulties.
It may, on the other hand, indicate that the ground situation notwithstanding, Bush and his colleagues remain determined to pursue the goals that drove them to war, in the first place.
Of course some of these misgivings can be set at rest. The Bush administration could state categorically long before the elections that it would discourage any moves by the post-election Iraqi government to denationalize the Iraqi oil industry.
It could go further and propose that the Iraqi constitution like the Iranian constitution should include a provision to prohibit the transfer of existing assets even while, unlike the Iranian constitution, allowing the granting of new concessions to foreign companies. One does not, however, see this happening.
My point is that it is far from certain even today that after all the unexpected problems that have cropped up in Iraq the goal of the neoconservatives in Washington has undergone any change or that the results they will try to seek from the elections will be anything other than the legitimization of the Pentagon and CIA proteges. It is apparent that whatever the form of the elections and whenever they are held, the 'favourites' of the neo-conservatives will be ensured victory.
Iraq's neighbours also will have a part to play. Its ethnic and religious mix makes it seem weak, the target of manipulations and machinations by its neighbours (recall the use by the Shah of Iran of the Kurdish card to win concessions on the Shatt-ul Arab from Saddam Hussain possibly providing the rationale for the Iran-Iraq was of 1979-89).
Turkey, Iran and, to a lesser extent, Syria have concerns about Kurdish aspirations for an independent Kurdistan and would like a strong central government in Baghdad that can suppress these demands or at least allow the Kurdish area only a limited degree of autonomy and a limited amount of access to the oil wealth of Kirkuk.
Saudi Arabia, Jordan, the Gulf States, and, to a lesser extent, Syria share conflicting perceptions of the dispensation they would prefer in Iraq. A powerful, and united Iraq would be, by virtue of its population and resources, the strongest Arab state in the region.
It would demand quite legitimately membership of the Gulf Cooperation Council and may thereafter come to exercise a strong influence on the other members, possibly outstripping Saudi Arabia in this respect.
On the other hand, these states would remain anxious that the hitherto dominant Iraqi Sunnis are not reduced to impotence since a Shia controlled government may well make, despite the many differences that exist between the Iraqi and Iranian Shia, common cause with the Iranians "to protect" the interests of the Shia minorities in eastern Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Bahrain and the other Gulf states. The current sectarian divide in the Islamic world then would be exacerbated.
Iran would be anxious that not only should the Shia majority be able to exercise power but the composition of the Shia-led government be such as would resist granting America bases and keep foreign oil companies out of any dominant position in the Iraqi energy sector. In one way or another all these concerns, and the actions prompted by them, will be reflected in the timing of the elections and their outcome.
Hard times thus lie ahead for the Iraqi people. Many already feel that their liberation has been a jump from the frying pan into the fire. Others think that if the insurgents were defeated, of which there seems to be no early prospect, the elections to be held would not usher in a model democracy but may set the stage for disintegration of the country or for protracted civil war into which their neighbours will be, willy-nilly, drawn.
It is their misfortune that even if Bush is defeated in the American election, his rival has no coherent plan for bringing peace, security and democracy to Iraq. One can hope however that Kerry, who has talked of the invasion of Iraq as exacerbating the threat of terrorism, will realize that renouncing ambitions in Iraq may be the best way of not only restoring security there but also of reducing the appeal of "radical Islam" in that country and the rest of the Middle East.
The writer is a former ambassador.
A greater role for Japan
Japan Airliners flying to cities in western Japan from Tokyo's Haneda Airport must first head far to the south, then negotiate a crowded, narrow air corridor where near collisions are frequent.
Japanese planes cannot fly directly to western Japan because 59 years after the end of World War II, they are still banned from a huge airspace around the US Yokota military base in western Tokyo.
Japan is still governed by the same constitution promulgated by General. Douglas MacArthur in the 1940's. It denies itself offensive military forces, and plays reluctant host to over 40,000 US military personnel in numerous air and naval bases.
The US-Japan defence treaty calls on the US to defend Japan against any attackers, but does not require Japan to defend the US. Japan is often called "the biggest US aircraft carrier."
Japan, a key democracy with the world's second largest economy, remains a US protectorate under America's nuclear security blanket. This mighty nation of uniquely energetic, courageous, and intelligent people still behaves in foreign affairs like a recently defeated nation.
Most Japanese and neighbouring Asians accept this curious arrangement. It deters Japan from building powerful offensive military forces that would greatly upset China and the Koreas, and it satisfies bedrock anti-military feelings among Japanese, all of whose major cities were razed during World War II.
More Japanese civilians were killed in one night's firebombing raids on Tokyo, for example, than in the atomic bombing of the once beautiful port of Hiroshima. But this comfortable yet unnatural status as economic giant but politic-military midget must come to an end.
Japan's Prime Minister, Junichiro Koizumi went to the UN recently to request a permanent seat on the Security Council. He has been trying to tiptoe Japan into world affairs.
It's high time the UN seat the world's number two power and its second largest contributor. Japan needs to be politically integrated with the world and thus exercise a stabilizing influence. Japan's exclusion from the Security Council is illogical, unfair, and increasingly counter-productive.
The Iraq War showed the UN Security Council to be useless. It failed to prevent the illegal US invasion of Iraq, then blessed this act of aggression. Critics claim the Security Council is an arm of the US State Department.
Two major changes are needed. Japan must be seated, followed, soon after, by Germany. Second, the veto power wielded by the Council's permanent members must be amended. In the event a veto is cast, the vote should then be decided by the General Assembly. But the US is not interested in this badly needed reform that would dilute its paramount influence in the UN.
Proposing a Security Council seat for Japan will immediately raise howls of indignation from the Koreas, China and the Philippines, all of whom felt the ferocity of the Imperial Japanese Army. But that was six decades ago. North Asia's nations have to forget the past, stop acting like cry babies, and stop extorting guilt money from Japan.
If they and the US keep Japan politically isolated, one day a fierce nationalist explosion may erupt as a new generation of proud Japanese casts abjures the role of apologizing penitent.
Equally important, Japan's long recession appears to be ending. The economy is showing signs of growth, as the spirit of national depression recedes. Ironically, much of Japan's previous political and economic problems stem from the US-designed system of post war government, which created feuding clans of feeble, corrupt politicians while real decision-making power was wielded by the nation's near invisible permanent bureaucracy.
The Japanese badly need a modernist democratic revolution that sweeps away the rotten, dysfunctional old order. Alas, none is yet apparent. Every attempt to reform the old system gets buried in bribes, sabotage, and inertia.
Japan's international role, economy and politics need urgently to be kick-started. North Asia is becoming a key geopolitical pressure point. There is no time to be lost in restoring Japan to its rightful role in world affairs before the clashing interests of China, Japan, the Koreas, Russia and the US send this most strategic region into crisis configuration. - Copyright Eric S. Margolis 2004
Authoritarianism & the third force
Today, we live in a world where it is not unusual to see power arbitrarily assumed even in countries traditionally regarded as standard-bearers of democracy.
Four years ago the presidential crown was not given voluntarily by the US electorate to George W. Bush. As we know, on the strength of a split verdict of the US Supreme Court and a tacit consensus on the part of much of corporate America, he simply took it.
Similarly, in our own country, just before the dawn of the new millennium with its promise of a new day, Gen. Musharraf staged a take over, taking his cue from military strongmen of the past. Despite a democratic facade since and with the somewhat contentious issue of his uniform still pending, that take over still remains with us.
What does this mean? Clearly, that government by force or a kind of delegated coercion rather than popular consent prevails in Pakistan. However, the facts - the matter of the good general's uniform, for example, with its four per cent margin of doubt - also point to something else.
This one means an implicit apprehension in him as to the essential flimsiness of his position or the probability of the collapse of his carefully crafted governmental construct in the event of even a single move towards genuine democratization.
What we are talking about is consequently a sort of contradiction in terms at the very heart of Pakistan's authoritarian order: the will to rule with a clear knowledge at the same time of the utter fallacy of any claim to do so.
This, though, is an authoritarian order with a difference. It does not quite fit the military-authoritarian stereotype afforded by the political dispensations of Ayub and even, for that matter, Zia.
The reason is that Gen. Musharraf has proven, politically, a little more astute than either of his two interventionist predecessors. For a start, he deftly side stepped the somewhat questionable option of martial law when first seizing executive authority in the country.
Accordingly, whereas Ayub and Zia would initially seem to have been conventional military usurpers who subsequently became more or less integrated in the democratic power structures they themselves had created, a military man first and last, Gen. Musharraf has preferred, on the whole, to hedge his bets in this regard.
This, together with the absolutist powers conferred on him by his 'necessitarian' constitution and its infinitely flexible 17th Amendment, has strategic advantages that seem obvious enough.
While allowing him something akin to his earlier fallback position as CE and, with this, a tactical distance from the day-to-day functioning of government, it has invested the general-cum-president with a legal and constitutional immunity and transcendence.
From these slightly surreal and unassailable heights, he is enabled, with the support of an obliging bureaucracy and judiciary, to direct both the varying configurations of government and the nation's political destiny.
While such obfuscations may suit the general and the army's top brass, they are singularly unhealthy for the country. Above all, they are damaging for civil society. Assured by Pakistan's Supreme Court of the country's return to genuine parliamentary democracy, it has been made hostage instead to an outlandish system of governance comprising a ubiquitous military presence, on the one hand, and a series of sterile, remote-controlled democratic rites, on the other. As a result, sensing itself the victim of a considerable abuse, civil society has become demoralized and restive.
Also, it seems to have begun, in part, to unlearn the concept of democracy as traditionally understood. And it appears simultaneously to be looking for ways to condone the customary excesses attendant on authoritarian rule. And that is dangerous.
A key feature of this set-up is of course the bogey of terrorism and, as its corollary, the country's counter-terrorism drive. Necessitated though the latter originally was by a sort of force majeure post-9/11, it is now tending to be overplayed and, in the process, actually threatening the very integrity of the federation itself.
The logic underlying the war on terror in Pakistan has, in the aftermath of the entirely counterproductive invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq, begun to wear thin. Moreover, if going after Al Qaeda means generating mass counter-terrorist hysteria to wage someone else's war on our own soil on an indefinite basis, then, regardless of possible material dividends, the risks involved simply seem far too high. In any case, how many wanted Al Qaeda men altogether are there in Pakistan and the rest of the world? Are all suspects of this variety a priori terrorists?
Granted the reality of the menace of religious militancy, are we not combating a generic mindset rather than a specific network as such? If so, as a noted Canadian journalist has sagely pointed out, perhaps we ought to be letting it keep a low profile rather than rounding it up with great panache and helping it get its act together.
But, then, are these not, at least in the context of Pakistan, the wages of authoritarianism? After all, we do not really need to look too far back in our history to perceive a direct link between authoritarianism and radicalism.If today we observe this cycle somehow being reversed under the banner of "enlightened moderation", it is up to us not to get taken in.
Let us see the phenomenon of the current rollback of jihad in Pakistan for what it is: evidence not so much of a sincere pledge to sanitize society and promote the values of a decent modernity as a desire to retain power at all costs.
At any rate, the image of Pakistanis as primarily seekers of head-money is not a particularly edifying one. There are surely other, better ways of proving our national identity and also possibly of addressing the problem of security in the country.
The socio-economic option - of using social and economic rehabilitation to contain Islamic militancy - is certainly not one that should be ruled out in relation to security merely on account of its being feasible only in the long term.
This is not to say that the despair of the deprived in this and other parts of the Muslim world should be replaced with the mirage of the American dream. It is, however, to suggest that the humanity of the masses in these parts should be respected and that, socially and economically, they should be given their due. Clearly, in the case of Pakistan, this has not happened.
Our poor exist merely on sufferance with a vast gulf between them and the powerful and the affluent. This is because they are, in line with John Kerry's paradigm for the US, part of a Pakistan which is at best a sort of societal wasteland to which nothing trickles down other than more and more apathy.
Needless to say, this cannot be remedied unless we have a truly representative and socially committed order. To decide unilaterally in the corridors of power who should or should not represent the people of Pakistan will merely undermine this goal.
To persist in obstructing the return to power of leaders of our national parties will serve no positive purpose either. That is the prerogative of civil society. If it has been civil society's experience that politicians have seriously failed for whatever reasons in the past, that does not represent a failure of democracy.
What it does represent is a failure of judgment on the part of civil society itself: an inability to see the larger socio-political picture and its own role in relation to this and, above all, a readiness to compromise on institutional ideals for the sake of short-term self-interest.
This would certainly account for the fact that it seems to have allowed itself, historically, to be a mere tool in the hands of opportunistic politicians or a manipulative military.
Granted that civil society occupies political space, it has nevertheless, in Pakistan, not succeeded in defining its own particular parameters within this space. And this is something it must now do for the sake of its survival.
It cannot continue to identify with an establishment that thrives on an inflated rhetoric and is more or less indifferent to its wellbeing. Equally, it cannot merely fall in with the interests of any similarly inward-looking and self-serving establishment-in-waiting.
First and foremost, provided that it has the will and foresight to rise above invidious class and ethnic differences for the common good, it must realize itself as a force distinct from other more explicitly articulated political forces.
Following this, it must forge a strategic consensus to bring about peaceful social change. Shunning cynicism, the recourse of the intellectually and morally spent, it must dare to dream of a new, genuinely cleaner and more just order that will purge us of our various mafias and is about more than just provincial autonomy. It must dare to believe in its power to achieve this.
Therein lies its only hope - not simply as a convenient and slightly inert buffer between the state and the political parties pandering to a highly retrograde status quo but a dynamic third force in the country. The alternative is dependence in perpetuity on the whims of chance.
A test for Afghan democracy
The October presidential elections in Afghanistan are a watershed moment, equal in importance to the post-September 11 ousting of the Taliban. Now President Hamid Karzai has the chance to embrace - or to squander - this moment.
Until a few weeks ago the Bush administration expected the elections to anoint Karzai as the first directly elected Afghan leader, giving him a strong mandate to disarm the warlords, crush a reemerging Taliban and invigorate a long-suffering economy. Karzai's victory also would shine a ray of hope on an otherwise gloomy series of U.S. foreign policy misadventures.
But as the campaign began in earnest, a deadly bombing in Kabul signalled the launching of a Taliban effort to disrupt the election. Karzai, meanwhile, finds himself in what could prove to be a competitive race. Even more troubling, in an environment ripe for fraud, his opponents are well placed to manipulate votes and intimidate voters.
How has this happened? The rewriting of the script began with the breakdown of alliances that have buttressed Karzai's fragile rule since 2002. Historically, Afghan politics has degenerated into ethnic blocs; unfortunately, these first democratic elections are proving no exception.
In recent opinion polls, many Uzbek, Tajik and Hazara voters support Karzai, a Pashtun from Kandahar. But on Election Day a number of factors may compel Afghans to revert to ethnic labels.
Under strong international pressure, Karzai dropped the most powerful militia commander, Defence Minister Mohammed Fahim, from his ticket. Karzai's flimsy ethnic ties to the Northern Alliance quickly unravelled. Fahim, a Tajik from the Panjshir Valley, aligned with Foreign Minister Abdullah to support the candidacy of a fellow Tajik, Yonus Qanooni, in the presidential race.
Recently Ismail Khan, the powerful "emir of the west," was sacked as governor of Herat, chiefly to give Karzai a chance in the province that could have the most voters on Election Day. But as the initial chaos demonstrated, loyalty to Khan is far from being displaced by the central state.
These challenges, along with contenders elsewhere on the ballot - Gen. Abdurrashid Dostum, an infamous Uzbek warlord; Mohammed Mohaqeq, the Hazara mujahideen commander, and 14 other candidates - render Karzai's coronation less than certain.
In addition, Taliban attacks in Karzai's core constituency, the Pashtun south, have kept voter registration lower there, and fears of Election Day violence may keep voters from the polls.
In the Uzbek and Tajik north and the Hazara centre of the country, there will be little to prevent local militias from stealing votes for their candidates. Local police will guard local polling places, and locally recruited election workers will staff them. Local law enforcement often consists of little more than private militias in public uniforms.
The embryonic Afghan National Army, along with international peacekeepers, can do more to guarantee free and fair elections, but these soldiers will be spread thin and in some cases will be held in reserve.
In the face of these fears, the word from Kabul is that the United States is pressuring Karzai to make deals with his most threatening opponents: Bring them, their allies and their armies back into the government in return for their votes. But this would be a short-term fix at the expense of a long-term progress; it would retard any hope for a democratic and peaceful Afghanistan.
The Afghan presidential election of Oct. 9 will present a choice between the old and the new, between a state corrupted by private militias and self-enriching warlords and a new type of government that bases its legitimacy on national rather than ethnic identity. By buying off one or two of the main contenders, Karzai could well guarantee himself a comfortable victory.
But he would hamstring his administration and relegate demilitarization, anti-corruption measures and social reforms to the back burner. So far Karzai has resisted the pressure to make deals, but his recent history gives pause.
He has never controlled the state through a monopoly of force - rather, he survived with American backing and by cutting deals with the biggest guns. Where to go from here? Real progress will come only through taking on the old-style power brokers in an election and beating them back.
Other nations can help not only by encouraging Karzai to hold firm but also by paying attention to the election process itself. In a reasonably fair election, Karzai is likely to win; he has the broadest multi-ethnic appeal and represents a significant break with the past.
He may not win a first-round victory against 17 other candidates, but in a subsequent runoff, the opposition will fragment and the choice between old and new will come into sharper focus.
And yet, at present, there are hardly any international election monitors scheduled to watch the vote, and domestic election observers lack resources. Security undoubtedly hinders election observation, but if the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe, the European Union and U.S. organizations are unwilling to send significant teams, how can Afghans be assured of a fair vote?
A legitimately elected administration in Kabul would not just be good for the Afghans; it would be much more likely to carry out the reforms the United States so keenly wants. -Dawn/ Washington Post Service
The writer, a political science professor at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, recently returned from an election assessment mission in Afghanistan for the Afghanistan Research and Evaluation Unit, an independent research organization.
Price of occupation
An innocent man going about his business is seized by raiders, and his life is put at risk. Members of his family issue desperate pleas for his safety and release. Special church services and prayer meetings are held on his behalf. Petitions are dispatched to London urging the powerful to "do something" to free him. In sections of the media there are dark mutterings about the clash of civilizations.
No: this is not to do with poor Kenneth Bigley and his terrifying and terrible ordeal. I am writing about those Britons who were held captive in North Africa in the 17th and 18th centuries; but I could equally well have been referring to British captives in other continents and at other times.
As far as these small islands are concerned, recurrent crises over hostages and captives is part of the price we have paid over the centuries for intruding so busily and often very violently into other people's lands.
In the early modern era, commercial interests in the Mediterranean and colonial incursions into Tangier, Gibraltar and Minorca made the British more vulnerable to the so-called Barbary corsairs.
These were privateers, operating out of Morocco and other North African polities, who attacked Christian merchant and fishing vessels at sea, and took those on board captive.
At least 20,000 Britons suffered this fate between 1600 and 1730. Some of these victims were enslaved in North Africa for years, or forever. Others (just like Muslims captured by Christian corsairs) were forced to row in galleys - effectively a death sentence.
Those men and women who left Britain to settle in North America were also vulnerable to capture, sometimes by rival European colonizers, but mainly by Native Americans.
The latter seized at least 3,000 British settlers in Pennsylvania, Maryland and Virginia in the late 1750s alone. Many of these captives were ordinary folk, farmers, labourers, women, and children.
The luckier ones were often absorbed into the tribes of their captors; but male captives were sometimes tortured to death. Naturally, in the years before the Raj was securely established, there were also many British captives in India. In 1780, perhaps one in five British-born soldiers in India were being held in captivity, most of them in the powerful southern Indian state of Mysore.
Some of these men were killed by their captors. Others died of malnutrition, or wounds, or despair. But, again, it was not only those in uniform who suffered. One of E.M. Forster's little-known works is an edition of the autobiography of Elizabeth Fay, a very ordinary Englishwoman who was reduced to utter terror when she was briefly held captive in Mysore.
These kinds of imperial captivities, whether of soldiers or civilians, also occurred in the 19th century. Some of the most famous happened when the British invaded Afghanistan in 1838.
They did so not to colonize the region, but to enforce regime-change in Kabul. Initially, things went smoothly. Then, as tends to happen in Afghanistan, it got rough. Over 12,000 British and Indian troops perished in this Afghan war. Others were sold into slavery. And well over 100 British men, women and children were held captive for several months.
As with other captivity crises, the fate of the individuals caught up in these overseas traumas aroused deep emotion and anger back in Britain. The captives in Afghanistan, wrote one London journalist in 1843, had: "excited more interest in the mother country than all the other events of the war"; "The history of the world," claimed another, "barely contains scenes of more terrific interest." Songs, circus-acts, speeches and plays were devoted to them. Best sellers were published about them.
The letters the captives sent home were read out in parliament and pored over by Queen Victoria herself. And this kind of excitement was generated by subsequent captivity crises too.
For, as the extent of the empire widened, so did the locations of British captivities: men, women and children from these islands were held in Australia at the hands of Aborigines, in parts of Latin America, in Egypt, in South Africa, and in India again during the so-called "Mutiny".
So why are these dramatic and pitiful episodes so often forgotten now? Why isn't Mr Bigley's ordeal viewed in a much longer, broader context? The answer lies in the way that Britain's past global experiences are generally represented and written about.
When the British empire was still in existence, the more embarrassing and painful aspects of these captivity episodes were often airbrushed out of the official story. Members of the master race were not to be seen as suffering in such a disadvantaged fashion.
Professional historians of the British empire now tend to focus on its elites not the sort of people who always formed the bulk of captives: common soldiers, sailors, small traders, mere womenfolk and the like. -Dawn/ The Guardian News Service