History tells us that nations fall or rise depending on the efficacy of their intelligence machinery and the quality of their counter-terrorism strategy. The process of evolving such strategy is time-consuming. Its fine-tuning to accommodate changing security perceptions and needs is even more laborious. Both tasks demand clinical objectivity, and not crass politics.
The Indian intelligence apparatus is undeniably caught between the rival pulls and pressures of the so-called secular and fundamentalist forces. If it has still given a reasonable account of itself, it is because of the strong foundations laid in the formative years. Like any other intelligence set-up across the globe, its principal agencies, the IB and the R&AW, have had their ups and downs, moments of glory and ignominy.
To trace all these in an objective and convincing manner requires not only scholarship, but an open mind as well. This is what Prem Mahadevan of the Centre for Security Studies, Zurich, displays in his latest tome. I am impressed by his phenomenal labour and the ready access he got to discuss the intricacies of counter-intelligence work with several past professionals. Obviously, he has both passion and enterprise.
No intelligence outfit can remain static in a world that is turbulent as now. As a result, some kind of reform is always in the works, especially after debacles like 9/11 and 26/11. Reform calls for an in-depth knowledge of history and diplomacy, supplemented by a quick uptake of events near and far. By this token, who is better equipped than Henry Kissinger to talk of the complicated spectrum that intelligence has become. Writing for The Washington Post in 2004 — immediately after President Bush announced his decision to create a new post of Director, National Intelligence, who would oversee the myriad agencies including the CIA — Dr. Kissinger said that reform of intelligence should focus on sharpening assessment and not stop with improving collection and coordination.
“Intelligence agencies,” he said, “should be judged by their ability to collect information, to interpret it, to keep assumptions from determining conclusions and to understand underlying trends.” I would employ the same test, more than any other, to judging our own intelligence agencies. Mahadevan does not quote Dr. Kissinger, but there is enough to suggest that he had taken into account his prescription while evaluating the successes and failures of the IB and the R&AW.
As Mahadevan says, ‘intelligence failure' is a cliché that needs to be employed with great circumspection. There is an ocean of difference between a failure to collect intelligence and a failure to act on it. Interestingly, the common impression is that the latter, and not the former, is more often the villain. He also refers to the distinction between ‘strategic' and ‘tactical' intelligence. While the former helps the higher echelons in formulating a counter-terrorism policy, the latter caters to the needs of law enforcement at the cutting edge. ‘Failure' often refers to the non-availability of pinpointed intelligence, which would normally help to avert disasters such as 9/11 and 26/11, and assassinations like that of Rajiv Gandhi. There is often a blame game here between the police in the field and intelligence agencies. Generally, intelligence agencies are unable to cater information that could help nab potential mischief-mongers. This is a fact of life, and to lambast the IB or the R&AW seems unfair, especially when a motivated terrorist group is the principal player.
Political perspectives
Mahadevan deftly handles the delicate subject of political perspectives in intelligence. On Ayodhya, the Centre warned the Uttar Pradesh government several times about high-voltage activities of Hindu groups, but the State administration chose to ignore it. The rest is history. Here, possibly, is an example of how political perceptions affected the appreciation of intelligence inputs.
Sikh terrorism in Punjab, the Kashmiri separatist movement, and the rise of jihadism accompanied by targeted killings receive detailed attention from the author. Common to these were the ISI factor and the communal virus spreading fast in the country. After some initial dithering that was traceable to an anxiety to evolve a political solution, New Delhi settled for consistency in meeting the challenge to national unity with an iron hand. In the case of Kashmir, the counter-terrorism policy was decisive because the ISI's role in it was crystal clear.
It was not so in responding to jihadism. Mahadevan believes that the pan-Islamist threat has been handled with a kid glove. The government's policy of avoiding any major confrontation with Pakistan has been sending confusing signals to the armed forces, and perhaps even to intelligence agencies. It is this ambivalence at the top level that accounts for some instability in Kashmir. Those in the establishment, of course, will argue that the region enjoys greater peace now than ever before. But the fact remains that South Block has not shown any great consistency here.
This is a difficult book to write, as issues of counter-terrorism are complex and dynamic. The lengthy notes at the end of the book help to clarify many points, which could not possibly be discussed in the body of the text without distorting the narrative flow and sequence. Mahadevan writes clear prose and reveals no biases. Students of internal security will greatly benefit from reading the book. A commendable maiden attempt that paves the way for the treatises to follow.
THE POLITICS OF COUNTER-TERRORISM IN INDIA — Strategic Intelligence and National Security in South Asia: Prem Mahadevan; Pub. by I.B. Tauris & Co. Ltd., 6 Salem Road, London, W2 4 BU, U.K. £ 47.
