Milquetoast Doctrine

In its essence, the craft of politics is about winning space for manoeuvre. Sometimes the space for manoeuvre arises organically. For instance, a war-time leader who leads his country to a military victory has the political capital to then negotiate a lasting peace. Sometimes the space for manoeuvre is manufactured by artifice. If the finance minister wants to raise taxes by 10 per cent, he announces a hike of 15 per cent and then — following public protests — agrees to a concession.

These are crude examples but realistic ones, seen in everyday life across political cultures and democracies. Given this, it is worth analysing the response of the Indian government and, particularly, Salman Khurshid, the minister of external affairs, to the Chinese incursions in Ladakh. India was taken by surprise by the movement of Chinese troops 19 km into Indian territory — or territory in the control of India as per the Line of Actual Control (LoAC). As it assessed the situation, the UPA government had (or should have had) two motivations.

The first was to prevent an undue escalation and rush headlong into an armed conflict. The second was to assuage public opinion. It would stand to reason — any textbook political practitioner would recommend this — that Indian ministers would begin with making loud, angry noises. They would assure the people that the interests of India and its territory would be safeguarded and the Chinese would not be allowed to get away. There would be consequences, including cancellation of visits and the odd bilateral trade commission talks or perhaps even a cultural show, if China did not move back 19 km.

What would this achieve? It would calm public opinion to some degree and, much more important, win the government space and time to embark on a wellthought-out rather than impulsive course. Do recall that as foreign minister in 2008, Pranab Mukherjee was making harsh and cutting remarks against Pakistan, and practically threatening it, every day after the 26/11 attacks. This is not to compare the Chinese incursions to the Mumbai terror assault — the two are very different transgressions. It is merely to point out that Mr Mukherjee recognised the public wanted its government to “do something”. Since war was not feasible, he did the next best thing and articulated Indian impatience and anger. How did Mr Khurshid react to the China crisis? At the commencement, both he and his Prime Minister sought to describe it as a “localised” problem and were at pains to sequester it from the larger India-China equation. Mr Khurshid stressed India would not jeopardise other aspects of the Beijing-New Delhi relationship by focusing on the Ladakh incur- sion, which he rather bizarrely described as “acne”. Next he insisted he was “not here to satisfy people’s jingoism”. Finally, of course, he came up with the astounding formulation that India was like Mohammed Ali and its foreign policy borrowed from the great boxer’s “rope-a-dope” tactics, which involved tiring an opponent before knocking him out.

At various points in the past week, it has been unclear whether Mr Khurshid was addressing the United Nations, the St. Stephen’s College Debating Society, or reaching out to the people of India. It would appear he has learnt nothing from experience. In January 2013, when the bodies of two Indian soldiers, beheaded by Pakistani troops, came home, Mr Khurshid’s first statement was to insist he wouldn’t be “pressurised by wild calls for revenge”. In the next few days, his government swung to a ridiculous extreme and threw out the Pakistani women’s hockey team.

What is the broader lesson that follows? In dealing with such egregious acts by an external actor — or at least acts that most Indians consider egregious, whether correctly or incorrectly — Mr Khurshid and his colleagues would have done well to start with clear-cut and hard-hitting remarks. The nuance could have come later.

The government’s advocates have emphasised it didn’t want to be rushed into a bigger mess, and point to the war-mongering among sections of the press that preceded the War of 1962. India moved into some forward positions — taking a maximalist view of a disputed border — and provoked a Chinese response, goes this line of thinking. Such concerns are legitimate. However, a dexterous, mature government embraces as well as moderates public emotions — it cannot afford to entirely snub them. If 1962 was a disas- ter it was not because of bellicose Indian newspapers. It was because the political leadership pushed — or allowed itself to be pressured into pushing — unprepared and underequipped Indian soldiers into a conflict they couldn’t possibly win.

Neither are India’s military choices limited to the binary of the allout war of 1962 and the do-nothing-at-all of 2013. It is not as if Indian and Chinese troops have not seen eyeball to eyeball in the intervening period or even fired at each other. Two precedents bear recalling.

In September-October 1967, Indian and Chinese soldiers fought each other in skirmishes in Nathu La and Cho La on the Sikkim-Tibet frontier. The Indians got the better of their opponents and continue to hold Cho La to this day. The strategising was left to the Army and not to busybody politicians. Sam Manekshaw was at that time head of the Eastern Command and this episode established him as a special military commander. Twenty years later, in 1986-87, Chinese soldiers placed themselves in the Sumdorong Chu Valley, near Tawang. The Indian Army used recently-acquired helicopters to move troops behind the Chinese advance party and thereby isolate it.

Variations of such an approach — of course taking into account the topography and geographical specificities of Ladakh — could have been tried. The Army could have been given political cover to respond to the Chinese foray with a similar move and eventually restore both sides to positions they were at till a few weeks ago. It was not to be. New Delhi’s grand strategists often argue for an Indian Monroe Doctrine. Today, they are left with a Motormouth Doctrine and its logical corollary, a Milquetoast Doctrine. The writer can be

contacted at malikashok@gmail.com