Ideology and public policy

THOSE who seek a deeper meaning in the West’s conflict with radical Islam are now divided into two camps. Leaders such as America’s George W. Bush and Britain’s Tony Blair have been arguing that they are battling an ideology that has evolved in the Muslim world. As discussed in the article that appeared in this space on Aug 29, this ideology has basically three authors: an Egyptian writer (Sayyid Qutb), an Egyptian physician turned radical Islamist (Ayman al Zawahiri) and a Saudi Arabian millionaire (Osama bin Laden).

The main point of this ideology is that it wishes to expunge the influence of the West from the Muslim world since it is convinced that unless that gets done it will not be possible to usher in pure Islam in the countries inhabited by the followers of the Islamic faith.

The proponents of this ideology are attempting to gain political traction in their countries by linking it with the major conflicts fought by the Anglo-Saxon world, particularly in the 20th century. President Bush made this explicit in an important speech delivered on July 31 before an audience of American veterans of wars. “The war we fight today is more than a military conflict, it is a decisive ideological struggle of the 21st century,” he said. “On one side are those who believe in the values of freedom and moderation — the right of the people to speak and worship, and live in liberty. And on the other side are those driven by value of tyranny and extremism — the right of self-appointed few to impose their fanatical view on all the rest. As veterans you have seen this kind of enemy before. They are the successors to fascists, to Nazis, to communists, and other totalitarians of the 20th century. And history shows what the outcome will be. This war will be difficult, this war will be long, and the war will end in the defeat of terrorists and totalitarians, and a victory for the cause of freedom and liberty.”

By casting the struggle against Islamic extremists in such ideological terms, President Bush was attempting to deflect attention from the policies pursued by Washington — also by London — in the Middle East for decades. He was trying in particular to cast the conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq in a different light. If this approach was sustained beyond the term of President Bush, it would prolong the Muslim world’s agony and have significant consequences for Pakistan, the second largest country in the Muslim world.

The other camp has developed an entirely different view of the problem between Islam and the West. It is inhabited by the people who have come to believe that the roots of the problem lie not in a radical Islamic ideology but in the way the West has treated the Muslim world. For decades — some would say centuries — the West’s predatory behaviour has resulted in attempts to overpower and subjugate the Muslim world. Those who take the very long view start with the Crusades which were a series of military campaigns from the 11th to the 13th century to capture Jerusalem and the holy land from the Muslims. Those with shorter memories begin their stories either with the 1900 discovery of oil by the British in Iran or with the acceptance, once again by the British in 1917, of the claim made by Jews of Europe to Palestine.

It is important to differentiate between these two camps since each story leads to very different public policy options. The explanation based on a conflict with an ideology leads to attempts to change not just regimes in the Middle East. The main purpose becomes changing values and behaviour of the Muslim people. This is what President George W. Bush tried to do by developing an ideology of his own.

He abandoned the realist school of foreign policy that had dominated for long foreign policy-making in Washington. Instead of accepting the points of view developed through deep thinking and practice of foreign policy by people such as George Kennan, Henry Kissinger and Brent Scowcroft who sought not to change the world but pursue American strategic interests, President Bush chose an interventionist course. With the ardour of a born-again Christian and use of roaring rhetoric, he launched a campaign to bring American social values and democracy to the Middle East.

President Bush’s deep conviction about American exceptionalism and manifest destiny was reinforced by a number of political philosophers. Usually referred to as neo-conservatives or simply neo-cons, people such as Richard Perle, Paul Wolfowitz, William Kristol and Douglas Feith had argued against realism in foreign policy and advocated idealism instead. America had a role to play in selling its political and social values to the world, in particular the backward Muslim societies.

This point of view was powerfully articulated by Francis Fukuyama in his highly influential book, The End of History. He saw history as a conflict between ideologies and it ended with the collapse of communism in Europe. That left the field open to the United States for political proselytisation. Fukuyama left the neo-conservative camp once the conflict in Iraq became exceptionally bloody.

This strategy and President Bush’s language was also adopted by Mr Blair. While initially, the Republic an Party of President Bush was fully supportive of the president’s approach, Blair’s Labour Party had grave doubts right from the beginning. It is said that it was deep religiosity that also motivated the British leader.

Once the direction the prime minister was taking became clear, some of his important cabinet colleagues left his company, most notably Clare Short, the minister in charge of overseeing Britain’s development efforts in poor nations. Minister Short’s constituency included a significant number of South Asians, particularly people of Pakistani origin. She was aware, more than the prime minister, that the use of force to bring about political change in the Muslim world could produce a backlash at home. This, as I will explore in some detail, is indeed what happened.

There was considerable simplicity in the world view of the neo-conservatives. It neatly divided the world into two parts: enlightened and unenlightened. Wisdom could be instilled into the minds of the second group by using the example of the United States. The neo-conservatives saw America as a beacon of light, which could illuminate the areas darkened by primitive thought or the pursuit of unreformed religion.

If the trajectory of this light was blocked by dictators whose interest was to keep their people in the dark, then America would do well to remove them. If military force was needed to achieve that objective, the Americans should not be reluctant to use it. The arrival of American troops in these dark lands would be received by grateful people and thunderous applause. That is what Dick Cheney, the US vice-president and Donald Rumsfeld, secretary of defence, firmly believed as they lined up behind their president and sent in the United States troops to conquer Iraq.

As already indicated, the other camp provided a more complicated view of the Muslim world. Since this view was complicated and considerably more nuanced, it did not result in clear policy prescriptions. Besides, the realists did not possess political power in the United States, the only superpower left after the fall of the Soviet Union. According to this view, changing the Muslim world’s perception of the West — in particular the United States — required a significant reorientation of foreign policy.

It is interesting to note that this interpretation of the growing resentment against the United States was noted in some detail in the report issued by the 9/11 commission appointed by the US Congress. The leaders of the commission — the Republican Thomas H. Kean and Democrat Lee H. Hamilton — have now published a book providing details on its working. Looking into the background of the 19 hijackers, the commission’s staff found that religious orthodoxy was not a common denominator, since some of the terrorists “reportedly even consumed alcohol and abused drugs.” At one point in the investigation, Hamilton asked the FBI agents who had investigated the terrorist attacks “why these men did what they did,” and what motivated them to do it?” The response came from agent James Fitzgerald. “They identify with the Palestinian problems, they identify with people who oppose repressive regimes and I believe they tend to focus their anger on the United States.”

There was, therefore, a disconnect between the views held by the American leadership as it contemplated action against those who had carried out unprecedented attacks on the country and senior members of the law enforcement agencies charged with understanding the motives of those who had turned so violently against the United States. It should have been clear even before Washington began its campaign in Iraq that the support of unpopular regimes in the Middle East had increased resentment against Washington and many of its allies. These regimes were suppressing their people and denying them the right to politically express themselves. They were also monopolising the enormous energy resources that had become available since oil was discovered in the areas in the early twentieth century.

What was particularly appalling was the fact that even when an opportunity arrived for people to use political participation to bring about regime change, the West intervened on behalf of those in power. This happened in Algeria in the early 1990s, repeatedly in Egypt, and also in Palestine and Lebanon in 2006. It was clear that the West’s interest in bringing democracy to the Muslim world was subject to the preservation of its own strategic interests.

Accepting this interpretation of the anger against the West would mean adoption of public policies that would not initially support the strategic and economic interests of the western countries. In the 1990s, the West’s dependence on oil increased as new centres of growing demand developed. The sharp increase in the rates of growth of several Asian economies, in particular those of China and India, resulted in significant increases in the price of oil. Those touched $78 a barrel in the summer of 2006. Letting nationalist forces gain power in the Middle East held the danger that oil may not flow as easily to the West as it did under authoritarian control.

Ultimately, however, the conflict between militant Islam and the West, in particular the United States and Britain, will be resolved once America and the former colonial powers of Europe recognise that the roots of the problem lie in the way the Muslim populations have been treated for centuries and are being treated once gain. Public policy based on subjugation will only bring greater trouble.

The sorrows of Balochistan

THE death of Nawab Akbar Bugti has placed the woes of Balochistan in the limelight. The province has been experiencing a political storm since the dark day of his demise: some MNAs are resigning while others are vociferously condemning the military government; there are strikes all over the province; and there is a wave of anger among the Baloch leaders.

It is not only in Balochistan that the repercussions have been felt, the whole opposition is up in arms. Even members of the treasury benches have condoled his death. All political activities have been hovering around this unfortunate incident. The public figures are, as usual, divided. On the one hand, there are people like Nasim Zehra who have refused to accept an award from the government, while on the other, there are several who issue one statement after the other to justify the events.

But Nasim Zehra is a noted columnist and one who initially supported General Musharraf, so she can hardly be suspected of not being principled on this issue. This is one indicator that the Balochistan policy of the present regime is not working. If other indicators are needed, one should read newspaper columns and letters to the editor. Even the Urdu press, which is generally opposed to issues of ethnic identity, condemns this particular action. As for the letters, while a few call Akbar Bugti a rebel, most openly condemn his death and call him a hero.

The point, however, is that we must differentiate between Akbar Bugti and Balochistan. While Bugti has become an icon of the Baloch at present, he has not always been so. At the same time, while the charge that he did several things in his personal interest may be true, this does not mean that he never did things for the Baloch people.

In any case, no matter what one may say about Akbar Bugti, one cannot argue that there is no problem in Balochistan and that it has not been created by government policies. The argument that foreign powers, such as India, may have a hand in the fanning of anti-Punjab hatred may be true.

However, it is only when there is a problem, when people are dissatisfied and when there is a perception of injustice, that foreign propaganda works. If everybody is satisfied, it does not work.

In that case, other countries cannot create issues though they can aggravate existing issues. The first thing then is to admit that there is a problem. It has a history which is summed up here.

The Balochistan problem has persisted since 1947. The Khan of Kalat, who controlled the greater part of the present-day province, issued a statement on April 11, 1947, saying that Kalat would be a sovereign state. This document was sent to the Quaid-i-Azam requesting him to support it. Apparently, there was no immediate reaction to it. Kalat remained an independent state for 227 days but on March 27, 1948, the Pakistan army moved against it. On April 1, 1948, the Khan acceded to Pakistan. His younger brother, Abdul Karim, rebelled and crossed over to Afghanistan. He found no help and had to come back only to be imprisoned.

These events made many of the Baloch resentful of the central government. They resorted to nationalist politics but, being very few in number, did not have as strong a voice as East Bengal or even as the nationalists of the North West Frontier Province.

The Baloch resorted to military resistance much more than any other ethnic group in Pakistan. In the 1960s, the Pararis, led by Sher Muhammad Marri, revolted but were suppressed. This era also created a Baloch icon: Nauroz Khan, chief of the Zehri tribe. The Baloch have written about him and there are songs devoted to his legend. During research for a book, I found several legends circulating among the Baloch nationalists. One was that his sons were hanged and that military officers had broken an oath taken on the Holy Quran to the Baloch chief. There was no way of verifying the story but it was part of the Baloch legend and fired the younger generation’s anger against the army and Punjab.

During the 1970s, when the military was used against the Baloch on the orders of Mr Bhutto, such legends again surfaced. One was about the use of gunship helicopters against unarmed Baloch women and children. Once again, independent confirmation was not possible. However, these stories are part of the Baloch nationalist world view. And, since perceptions are of crucial importance, they must be taken into account when anyone tries to explain why the Baloch are so angry with the centre.

My own research was on the way language becomes a symbol of identity and is used to create a united group against perceived hegemony by the centre. As the centre is dominated by Punjab, this translates into ethnic resistance, based on linguistic identity, against the Punjabis and, more specifically, the Punjabi-dominated army.

Ironically enough, in Balochistan both Balochi and Brahvi have been supported by the state, unlike the state of affairs in Iran where Balochi was suppressed. However, Balochi and Brahvi are not used in the domains of power though they are in the media and at the Master’s degree level. Language-based ethnicity is not a powerful force because the educated class is quite small. Instead, ethnic resentment is expressed militarily by icons like Zehri and Bugti.

So, what is the cause of the resentment in Balochistan besides these historical memories or perceptions? Most analysts have pointed to the distribution of resources and power: gas is not available in most parts of the province; even near the Sui fields; the number of the Baloch in powerful positions is low; land in Gwadar is passing into the hands of the non-Baloch.

All these things are true but I would like to point out another factor ignored by most analysts, and that is the factor of Baloch self-respect or ‘izzat’. This is tied up with the way apartheid comes to exist whenever a part of the province becomes modern and advanced.

This is generally a part of a city, mostly a cantonment or the place of residence of the civil bureaucracy. As buildings and cars fill the roads this enclave becomes an oasis in the desert. In this part of the city people speak foreign languages, wear different clothes, observe different customs and, to make matters worse, look down upon the locals. In most such places, because they are cantonments, the ordinary Baloch are denied entry or searched when they try to gain entry.

In short, modernisation means possession of a part of one’s land by ‘others’ and alienation of the Baloch. The cantonments are resented for this reason. The Baloch will not enter them except as low-status labourers or domestic servants. Moreover, they will feel as if they are under occupation. People in Punjab cannot understand this feeling and, therefore, do not really understand the deep psychological reasons for the Baloch resentment of the mega development schemes which involve the alienation of their lands from them.

Balochistan should be modernised but through slow and evolutionary methods of spreading education and employment. Moreover, the Baloch themselves should be doing all this and not outsiders. Their land must not go to outsiders. And, of course, economic and political power must remain with them. This is not an easy thing to do because Gwadar has already been parcelled out, the best part of Quetta is populated by non-Baloch. Moreover, the province has Pashto-speaking areas as well as Seraiki-speaking belts. Thus the danger of internal ethnic conflict remains. However, if India could defuse ethnic and linguistic tensions by creating linguistic states, we too can do something to bring harmony by taking Baloch and Pashtun leaders in confidence and giving them their due share and whatever arrangements of power-sharing they agree to. But this is a process which may take long.

For now, the government must give a truthful account of the death of Akbar Bugti. If anyone of the functionaries of the state is to be blamed, this should be done.

The government should also apologise unconditionally for the human tragedy involved. To call Akbar Bugti a rebel is to reinforce the idea of ethnic conflict and create an East Pakistan-like feeling. It also amounts to the state not admitting its mistakes which creates and increases anger. Along with all this, a process of peace and reconciliation must start afresh — and this time nobody should use military force to wreck it.

A disastrous intervention

‘THE Taliban think they’ve had a pretty good summer,” said an American officer in Afghanistan last week. The western sponsors of President Karzai’s government, by contrast, have had a rotten one. The country is producing a bumper opium harvest, significant Nato casualties and mounting cynicism about the corruption of the Kabul government.

Many people in Europe and the United States share the view so vividly expressed by Simon Jenkins in these pages, that the sooner we shake Afghanistan’s dust from our feet and leave its people to decide their own fate, the better. Some influential strategy gurus on both sides of the Atlantic assert that, five years after 9/11, the western strategy of pursuing Islamist terrorists into their breeding and training grounds has proved disastrous and counter-productive. It is better, they argue, to fight terrorism in our own countries than to try to do so amid alien cultures, where the West is far out of its depth.

It is hardly surprising that such sentiment is widespread, when the American and British governments have bungled and lied so consistently in both Iraq and Afghanistan. Simon Jenkins and I, along with more important people, predicted sorry consequences from dispatching a small British force, ill-equipped with ground and air mobility, to Helmand province. Nothing has happened since May to discredit such forecasts.

Other big Nato members, such as Germany, France and Italy, have behaved far worse than Blair. They have sent troops to Afghanistan not to fight, but to play out a charade of solidarity. It is widely said that the Afghan deployment is a key test of whether Nato can remain a serious organisation. The omens are not auspicious. Almost five years after invading Afghanistan, the West knows pitifully little about the place.

Hardly any Nato soldiers, diplomats or intelligence officers speak its language. Electronic surveillance helicopters hover over the battlefields overloaded with interpreters. An American officer observes that the tribal structure down around the Pakistan border is extraordinarily complex, “and we don’t really understand it at all”. Nato guesses that there are 6,000-8,000 Taliban operating inside Afghanistan, but nobody knows how many more are in waiting.

Nato strategy is founded upon a belief that most Afghans dislike having their villages and fields turned into battlegrounds. Western commanders want local people to recognise that the quickest way to get rid of unwanted foreign troops is to discourage the Taliban from engaging them.

This aspiration may well prove fanciful, because it underrates the strength of the Afghan warrior culture. I remember once interviewing Sir Edgar Williams, the distinguished Oxford academic who spent the war as Montgomery’s head of intelligence. Williams said that he and his civilian comrades, masquerading in uniforms for an unwelcome season, were irked by the contrast between their own attitude to the war and that of their enemies: “We just wanted to get this whole thing over and go back to our proper lives. But the Germans didn’t seem to mind doing it indefinitely.”

This is even more true of the Afghans. Almost every man in the country has fighting experience, and takes pride in his prowess. The British in Helmand hope to separate the so-called hardcore Taliban from their hangers-on, local tribesmen who are paid piece-rates of $10 or $20 a day for joining a given attack on western forces.

Yet the Americans, who have been in eastern Afghanistan much longer than other Nato contingents, believe that the pool of Taliban fighters is almost unlimited. They no longer expect military victory. They are pinning their hopes on lavish civil reconstruction efforts, together with quickly “deepening the Afghan footprint” — an extension of authority by the Kabul government and its embryo army. “If you gave me a choice between having two more battalions of troops here, or another $50m for building roads, I’d take the money,” says a senior US officer.

Unfortunately corruption is booming among the supporters of President Karzai. As everywhere in the Muslim world, this promotes popular anger which threatens to discredit secular democracy. The Taliban are paying their fighters about double the rates on offer to the Afghan national army. The police force scarcely functions at all. Whatever military successes Nato achieves, it will be several years before the Kabul government is capable of exploiting them effectively to widen its political control.

After reciting this litany of woe, it may seem logical to join the chorus of those urging that we should quit forthwith. I find it impossible to do this. The consequences of abandoning Afghanistan to mediaeval anarchy are so ghastly that it seems essential for the West to persevere, however poor the prospects. The British army remains convinced that it can succeed, given adequate resources. Some senior soldiers feel deeply frustrated that it is impossible to get reinforcements to Helmand, where they might make a real difference, because so many men, armoured vehicles and helicopters are committed in southern Iraq, where their presence can no longer alter the country’s fate.

It seems essential for the West to narrow its ambitions in Afghanistan merely to frustrating the return of the Taliban. An American officer declares proudly that there are now six million Afghan children in schools, including 2 million girls. It is appalling to contemplate the prospect that if the fanatics regain power, the absolute subjection of women will be restored.

Yet it seems impossible for westerners to aspire to transform the entire culture of the country, simultaneously with eradicating opium and beating the Taliban. President Karzai will never govern his country successfully on a western democratic model. Whatever form of rule evolves there, in western eyes it is unlikely to be pretty. The best we can hope is that it will prove less ugly than that of the Taliban.

If the West fails, a heavy responsibility will rest with Germany, France and Italy, which pretended to be willing to contribute yet refused to act with conviction. We should surely forget past blunders and address ourselves solely to the future. If the Karzai regime cannot be sustained, unspeakably barbaric Islamist fascists will regain power in Kabul. This would be a triumph for Al Qaeda, a disaster for the global struggle against terrorism, and consign the Afghan people once more to the dark ages.

There are very few optimists in Kabul today. Yet it seems essential for the world to keep trying there. There is still a chance of success, as there is not in Iraq. Western purposes are far more honourable. Our disgust towards Bush and Blair should not blind us to the fact that not all their purposes are dishonourable.

—Dawn/Guardian Service