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Professor, strategic thinker, author and commentator

The human-rights challenge posed by Sri Lanka

Sri Lankan peace process in pieces

Brahma
Chellaney

India Abroad, October 2, 2009

If war-scarred Sri Lanka is to re-emerge as a
tropical paradise, it has to build enduring peace through genuine inter-ethnic
equality and by making the transition from being a unitary state to being a
federation that grants local autonomy. Yet even in victory, the Sri Lankan
government seems unable to define peace or outline a political solution to the
long-standing grievances of the Tamil minority.

A process of national reconciliation anchored in
federalism and multiculturalism indeed can succeed only if possible war crimes
and other human-rights abuses by all parties are independently and credibly
investigated. United Nations Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon has acknowledged
civilian casualties were “unacceptably high,” especially as the war built to a
bloody crescendo earlier this year. The continuing air of martial triumph in Sri Lanka,
though, is making it difficult to heal the wounds of war through three
essential “Rs”: Relief, recovery and reconciliation.

In fact, the military victory bears a distinct family
imprint: President Mahinda Rajapaksa was guided by two of his brothers,
Gotabaya, the powerful defense secretary who fashioned the war plan, and Basil,
the presidential special adviser who formulated the political strategy.

Yet another brother, Chamal, is the ports and civil
aviation minister who awarded China
a contract to build the billion-dollar Hambantotta port on Sri Lanka’s
southeast. In return, Beijing provided Colombo not only the weapon systems that
decisively titled the military balance in its favor, but also the diplomatic
cover to prosecute the war in defiance of international calls to cease
offensive operations to help stanch rising civilian casualties.

Through such support, China
has succeeded in extending its strategic reach to a critically located country
in India’s backyard that
sits astride vital sea-lanes of communication in the Indian
Ocean region.

India
also is culpable for the Sri Lankan bloodbath. Having been outwitted by China, India
was compelled to lend critical assistance to Colombo,
lest it lose further ground in Sri
Lanka. From opening an unlimited line of
credit for Sri Lanka to extending naval and intelligence cooperation, India
provided war-relevant support in the face of a deteriorating humanitarian
situation in that island-nation.

Sinhalese nationalists now portray President Rajapaksa as
a modern-day incarnation of Dutugemunu, a Sinhalese ruler who, according to
legend, vanquished an invading Tamil army led by Kind Elara more than 2,000
years ago. But months after the Tamil Tigers were crushed, it is clear the
demands of peace extend far beyond the battlefield.

What is needed is a fundamental shift in government’s
policies to help create greater inter-ethnic equality, regional autonomy and a
reversal of the state-driven militarization of society. But Rajapaksa, despite
promising to address the root causes of conflict, has declared: “Federalism is
out of the question.”

How elusive the peace dividend remains can be seen from Sri Lanka’s
decision to press ahead with a further expansion of its military. Not content
with increasing the military’s size fivefold since the late 1980s to more than
200,000 troops today, Colombo
is raising the strength further to 300,000, in the name of “eternal vigilance.”
Soon after the May 2008 victory, the government, for example, announced a drive
to recruit 50,000 new troops to help control the northern areas captured from
the rebels.

The Sri Lankan military already is bigger than that of Britain and Israel. The planned further
expansion would make the military in tiny Sri
Lanka larger than the militaries of major powers like France, Japan
and Germany.
By citing a continuing danger of guerrilla remnants reviving the insurgency,
Rajapaksa is determined to keep a hyper-militarized Sri Lanka on something of a war
footing.

Yet another issue of concern is the manner the government
still holds nearly 300,000 civilians in camps where, in the recent words of UN
High Commissioner for Human Rights Navi Pillay, the “internally displaced
persons are effectively detained under conditions of internment.”

Such detention risks causing more resentment among the
Tamils and sowing the seeds of future unrest. The internment was intended to
help weed out rebels, many of whom already have been identified and transferred
to military sites. Those in the evacuee camps are the victims and survivors of
the deadly war. To confine them in the camps against their will is to further
victimize and traumatize them.

Sri
Lanka’s interests would be better served
through greater transparency. It should grant the UN, International Red Cross
and nongovernmental organizations at home and abroad unfettered access to care
for and protect the civilians in these camps, allowing those who wish to leave
the camps to stay with relatives and friends.

Then there is the issue of thousands of missing people,
mostly Tamils. Given that many families are still searching for missing
members, the government ought to publish a list of all those it is holding — in
evacuee camps, prisons, military sites and other security centers. Even
suspected rebels in state custody ought to be identified and not denied access
to legal representation.

Bearing in mind that thousands of civilians were killed
just in the final months of the war, authorities should disclose the names of
those they know to be dead — civilians and insurgents — and the possible
circumstances of their death.

The way to fill the power vacuum in the Tamil-dominated
north is not by dispatching additional army troops in tens of thousands, but by
setting up a credible local administration to keep the peace and initiate
rehabilitation and reconstruction after more than a quarter of a century of
war. Yet there is a lurking danger that the government may seek to change
demography by returning to its old policy of settling Sinhalese in Tamil areas.

More fundamentally, such have been the costs of victory
that Sri Lankan civil society stands badly weakened. The wartime suppression of
a free press and curtailment of fundamental rights continues in peacetime,
undermining democratic freedoms and creating a fear psychosis. Sweeping
emergency regulations remain in place, arming the security forces with
expansive powers of search, arrest and seizure of property. Public meetings
cannot be held without government permission. Individuals can still be held in
unacknowledged detention for up to 18 months.

For the process of reconciliation and healing to begin in
earnest, it is essential the government give up wartime powers and accept, as
the UN human-rights commissioner has sought, “an independent and credible
international investigation … to ascertain the occurrence, nature and scale of
violations of international human-rights and international humanitarian law” by
all parties during the conflict. According to Ms. Pillay, “A new future for the
country, the prospect of meaningful reconciliation and lasting peace, where
respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms can become a reality for all,
hinges upon such an in-depth and comprehensive approach.”

Rather than begin a political dialogue on regional
autonomy and a more level-playing field for the Tamils in education and
government jobs, the government has seen its space get constricted by the
post-victory upsurge of Sinhalese chauvinism opposed to the devolution of
powers to the minorities. The hard-line constituency argues that the Tamils in
defeat shouldn’t get what they couldn’t secure through three decades of unrest
and violence.

Indeed, such chauvinism seeks to tar federalism as a
potential forerunner to secession, although the Tamil insurgency sprang from
the state’s rejection of decentralization and power-sharing. The looming
parliamentary and presidential elections also make devolution difficult, even
though the opposition is splintered and Rajapaksa seems set to win a second
term.

Add to the picture the absence of international pressure,
despite the leverage provided by a cash-strapped Sri Lankan economy. The United States enjoys a one-country veto in the
International Monetary Fund, yet it chose to abstain from the recent IMF vote
approving a desperately needed $2.8-billion loan to Sri Lanka.

In the face of China’s
stonewalling in the UN, Ban Ki-moon has been unable to appoint a UN special
envoy on Sri Lanka,
let alone order a probe into possible war crimes there. By contrast, the UN
carried out a recently concluded investigation into Israel’s
three-week military offensive in Gaza
earlier this year.

Today, reversing the militarization of society, ending
the control of information as an instrument of state policy and promoting
political and ethnic reconciliation are crucial to post-conflict peace-building
and to furthering the interests of all Sri Lankans — Sinhalese, Tamils and
Muslims. So also is the need to discard the almost mono-ethnic character of the
security forces.

Colombo
has to stop dragging its feet, as it has done for long, on implementing the
Constitution’s 13th amendment, which requires the ceding of some powers at the
provincial level. But these tasks are unlikely to be addressed without
sustained international diplomatic intervention.

As world history attests, peace sought to be achieved
through the suppression and humiliation of an ethnic community has proven
elusive. It will be a double tragedy for Sri Lanka if making peace proves
more difficult than making war.

Brahma Chellaney, a professor of
strategic studies at the independent, privately funded Center for Policy
Research in New Delhi, is on the international advisory council of the
Campaign for Peace and
Justice in
Sri Lanka. 

(c) India Abroad, 2009.

Communist China’s real test begins: How to avoid a political hard landing

Challenges at 60 year

The problem is politics, not economics

By Brahma Chellaney The Washington Times October 2, 2009

Six decades after it
was founded, the People’s Republic of China can truly be proud of its
remarkable achievements. An impoverished, backward state in 1949, it has risen
dramatically and now commands respect and awe in the world. But such success
has come at great cost to its own people.

In fact, China’s future
remains more uncertain than ever. It faces a worrisome paradox: Because of an
opaque, repressive political system, the more it globalizes, the more
vulnerable it becomes internally. At the core of its challenges is how to make
a political soft landing.

In terms of
post-World War II growth, unlike its Asian peers Japan
and India, China first
concentrated on acquiring military muscle. By the time Deng Xiaoping launched
his economic-modernization program, China already had tested its first
intercontinental ballistic missile, the 7,460-mile DF-5, and developed
thermonuclear weaponry. The military muscle gave Beijing the much-needed security to focus on
civilian modernization, helping it to fuel its remarkable economic rise, which,
in turn, has armed it with even greater resources to sharpen its claws.

China‘s economy has
expanded thirteenfold in the last 30 years. Consequently, China has
arrived as a global economic player, with its state-owned corporate behemoths
frenetically buying foreign firms, technologies and resources. Add to the
picture its rapidly swelling foreign-exchange coffers. Beijing, thus, is well-positioned
geopolitically to further expand its influence.

Its defense strategy
since the Mao Zedong era has been founded on a simple premise – that the
capacity to defend oneself with one’s own resources is the first test a nation
has to pass on the way to becoming a great power. So, even when China was poor,
it consciously put the accent on building comprehensive national power.

Today, its rapidly
accumulating power raises concerns because even when it was backward and
internally troubled, it employed brute force to annex Xinjiang (1949) and Tibet
(1950), to raid South Korea (1950), to invade India (1962), to initiate a
border conflict with the Soviet Union through a military ambush (1969), and to
attack Vietnam (1979). A prosperous, militarily strong China cannot
but be a threat to its neighbors, especially if there are no constraints on the
exercise of Chinese power.

Communist China
actually began as an international pariah state. Today, it is courted by the
world. Its rise in one generation as a world power under authoritarian rule has
come to epitomize the qualitative reordering of international power. As the
latest U.S. intelligence
assessment predicts, China
is "poised to have more impact on the world over the next 20 years than
any other country."

A long-term vision
and unflinching pursuit of goals have been key drivers. But China’s rise
also has been aided by good fortune on multiple strategic fronts. First, Beijing’s reform process
benefited from good timing, coming as it did at the start of globalization
three decades ago. Second, the Soviet Union’s sudden collapse delivered an
immense strategic boon, eliminating a menacing empire and opening the way for Beijing to rapidly
increase strategic space globally. Russia’s
decline in the 1990s became China’s
gain. And third, there has been a succession of China-friendly U.S. presidents in the past two decades – a
significant period that has coincided with China’s ascension.

China‘s rise, indeed,
owes a lot to the West’s decision not to sustain trade sanctions after the 1989 Tiananmen Square
massacre, but instead to integrate Beijing
with global institutions through the liberalizing influence of foreign
investment and trade. That the choice made was wise can be seen from the
baneful impact of the opposite decision that was taken on Burma from the
late 1980s – to pursue a penal approach centered on sanctions. Had the
Burma-type approach been applied against China
internationally, the result would have been a less prosperous, less open and
potentially destabilizing China.

Although China has
come a long way since Tiananmen Square, with its citizens now enjoying property
rights, the freedom to travel overseas and other rights that were unthinkable a
generation ago, the political power still rests with the same party and system
responsible for the death of tens of millions of Chinese during the so-called
Great Leap Forward, Cultural Revolution and other state-induced disasters.

The greatest
genocide in modern world history was not the Holocaust but the Great Leap
Forward, a misguided charge toward industrialization that left 36 million
people dead, according to "Tombstone," a recent book by longtime
Chinese communist Yang Jisheng.

That the Communist Party
continues to monopolize power despite its past gory excesses is remarkable.
This is now the oldest autocracy in the world. The longest any autocratic
system survived in modern history was 74 years in the Soviet
Union.

Although China has moved
from being a totalitarian state to being an authoritarian state, some things
haven’t changed since the Mao years. Some other things have changed for the
worse, such as the whipping up of ultranationalism and turning that into the
legitimating credo of communist rule. Attempts to bend reality to the illusions
the state propagates through information control and online censors actually
risk turning China
into a modern-day Potemkin state.

While India celebrates diversity, China honors
artificially enforced monoculturalism, although it officially comprises 56
nationalities. China
seeks not only to play down its ethnic diversity, but also to conceal the
cultural and linguistic cleavages among the Han majority, lest the historical
north-south fault lines resurface with a vengeance. The Han – split in at least
seven linguistically and culturally distinct groups – are anything but
homogenous.

China‘s internal problems
– best symbolized by the 2008 Tibetan uprising and this year’s Uighur revolt –
won’t go away unless Beijing
stops imposing cultural homogeneity and abandons ethnic drowning as state
strategy in minority lands. But given the regime’s entrenched cultural
chauvinism and tight centralized control, that is unlikely to happen. After
all, President Hu Jintao’s slogan of a "harmonious society" is
designed to undergird the theme of conformity with the state.

More fundamentally,
if China manages to resolve
the stark contradictions between its two systems – market capitalism and
political monocracy – just the way Asian "tigers" like South Korea and Taiwan
were able to make the transition to democracy without crippling turbulence at
home, China could emerge as
a peer competitor to the United
States. Political modernization, not
economic modernization, thus is the central challenge staring at China. If it is
to build and sustain a great-power capacity, it has to avoid a political hard
landing.

Internationally, China’s trajectory will depend on how its
neighbors and other players like the United States manage its growing
power. Such management – independently and in partnership – will determine if China stays on
the positive side of the ledger, without its power sliding into arrogance.

Brahma Chellaney, professor of
strategic studies at the independent, privately funded Center for Policy
Research in New Delhi, is the author, most recently, of "Asian Juggernaut:
The Rise of China, India and Japan."

Copyright 2009 The Washington
Times, LLC 

Sri Lankan bloodbath yet to yield peace dividend

Colombo risks squandering Sri Lanka’s hard-won peace

By BRAHMA CHELLANEY

The Japan
Times

If Sri
Lanka is to become a tropical paradise
again, it must build enduring peace. This will only occur through genuine
interethnic equality, and a transition from being a unitary state to being a
federation that grants provincial and local autonomy.

Yet even in victory the Sri Lankan government seems
unable to define peace or outline a political solution to the long-standing
cultural and political grievances of the Tamil minority, which makes up 12
percent of the 21.3-million population. A process of national reconciliation
anchored in federalism and multiculturalism can succeed only if human-rights
abuses by all parties are independently investigated. United Nations Secretary
General Ban Ki Moon has acknowledged that civilian casualties were
"unacceptably high," especially as the war built to a bloody
crescendo.

The continuing air of martial triumph in Sri Lanka,
though, is making it difficult to heal the wounds of war through three
essential "Rs": relief, recovery and reconciliation. In fact, the
military victory bears a distinct family imprint: President Mahinda Rajapaksa
was guided by two of his brothers, Gotabaya, the defense secretary who authored
the war plan, and Basil, the presidential special adviser who formulated the
political strategy. Yet another brother, Chamal, is the ports minister who
awarded China a contract to build the billion-dollar Hambantotta port, on Sri
Lanka’s southeast.

In return, Beijing provided Colombo not only the weapon
systems that decisively tilted the military balance in its favor, but also the
diplomatic cover to prosecute the war in defiance of international calls to
cease offensive operations to help stanch rising civilian casualties. Through
such support, China has
succeeded in extending its strategic reach to a critically located country in India’s backyard that sits astride vital
sea-lanes of communication in the Indian Ocean
region.

Sinhalese nationalists now portray Rajapaksa as a
modern-day Dutugemunu, a Sinhalese ruler who, according to legend, vanquished
an invading Tamil army led by Kind Elara more than 2,000 years ago. But four
months after the Tamil Tigers were crushed, it is clear the demands of peace
extend far beyond the battlefield. What is needed is a fundamental shift in
the government’s policies to help create greater interethnic equality, regional
autonomy and a reversal of the state-driven militarization of society.

But Rajapaksa, despite promising to address the root
causes of conflict, has declared: "Federalism is out of the
question." 

How elusive the peace dividend remains can be seen from Colombo’s decision to
press ahead with a further expansion of the military. Not content with
increasing the military’s size five-fold since the late 1980s to more than 200,000
troops today, Colombo
is raising the strength further to 300,000, in the name of "eternal
vigilance." Soon after the May victory, the government, for example,
announced a drive to recruit 50,000 new troops to help manage the northern
areas captured from the rebels.

The Sri Lankan military already has more troops than that
of Britain or Israel. The
planned further expansion would make the military in tiny Sri Lanka larger than the militaries of major
powers like France, Japan and Germany. By citing a continuing
danger of guerrilla remnants reviving the insurgency, Rajapaksa, in fact, seems
determined to keep a hyper-militarized Sri Lanka on something of a war
footing. 

Yet another issue of concern is the manner the nearly 300,000 Tamil
civilians still held by the government in camps where, in the recent words of
U.N. High Commissioner for Human Rights Navi Pillay, the "internally
displaced persons are effectively detained under conditions of
internment."

Such detention risks causing more resentment among the
Tamils and sowing the seeds of future unrest. The internment was intended to
help weed out rebels, many of whom already have been identified and transferred
to military sites. 

Those in the evacuee camps are the victims and survivors of
the deadly war. To confine them in the camps against their will is to further
victimize and traumatize them.

Sri
Lanka’s interests would be better served
through greater transparency. It should grant the U.N., International Red Cross
and nongovernmental organizations at home and abroad full and unhindered access
to care for and protect the civilians in these camps, allowing those who wish
to leave the camps to do so and live with relatives and friends. Otherwise, it
seriously risks breeding further resentment.

Then there is the issue of thousands of missing people,
mostly Tamils. Given that many families are still searching for missing
members, the government ought to publish a list of all those it is holding — in
evacuee camps, prisons, military sites and other security centers. Even suspected
rebels in state custody ought to be publicly identified and not denied access to legal
representation. Authorities should disclose the names of those they know
to be dead — civilians and insurgents — and the possible circumstances of their
death. 

Also, the way to fill the power vacuum in the Tamil-dominated north is
not by dispatching additional army troops in tens of thousands, but by setting
up a credible local administration to keep the peace and initiate
rehabilitation and reconstruction after more than 25 years of war. Any government move to return to the old policy of
settling Sinhalese in Tamil areas is certain to stir up fresh problems. 

More
fundamentally, such have been the costs of victory that Sri Lankan civil
society stands badly weakened and civil liberties curtailed. The wartime
suppression of a free press and curtailment of fundamental rights continues in
peacetime, undermining democratic freedoms and creating a fear psychosis.

Public meetings cannot be held without government
permission. Sweeping emergency regulations also remain in place, arming the
security forces with expansive powers of search, arrest, detention and seizure
of property. Individuals can still be held in unacknowledged detention for up
to 18 months. For the process of reconciliation to begin in earnest, it is
essential the government shed its war-gained powers and accept, as Ms. Pillay says,
"an independent and credible international investigation . . . to
ascertain the occurrence, nature and scale of violations of international
human-rights and international humanitarian law" by all parties during the
conflict.

Pillay has gone on to say: "A new future for the
country, the prospect of meaningful reconciliation and lasting peace, where
respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms can become a reality for all,
hinges upon such an in-depth and comprehensive approach."

Unfortunately, Colombo
still seeks to hold back the truth. Those who speak up are labeled
"traitors" (if they are Sinhalese) or accused of being on the payroll
of the Tamil diaspora. Last year, a Sri Lankan minister accused the U.N.
undersecretary general for humanitarian affairs, John Holmes, of being on the
rebels’ payroll after Holmes called Sri Lanka one of the world’s most dangerous
places for aid workers.

The media remains muzzled, and a host of journalists have
been murdered or imprisoned. Lawyers who dare to take up sensitive cases face
threats. Recently, a well-known astrologer who predicted the president’s ouster
from power was arrested. And this month, the U.N. Children’s Fund
communications chief was ordered to leave Sri Lanka after he discussed the
plight of children caught up in the government’s military campaign.

Rather than begin a political dialogue on regional
autonomy and a more level-playing field for the Tamils in education and
government jobs, the government has seen its space get constricted by the
post-victory upsurge of Sinhalese chauvinism opposed to the devolution of
powers to the minorities.

The hardline constituency argues that the Tamils
shouldn’t get in defeat what they couldn’t secure through three decades of
unrest and violence. Indeed, such chauvinism seeks to tar federalism as a
potential forerunner to secession, although the Tamil insurgency sprang from
the state’s rejection of decentralization and power-sharing. The looming
parliamentary and presidential elections also make devolution difficult, even
though the opposition is splintered and Rajapaksa seems set to win a second
term.

Reversing the militarization of society, ending the
control of information as an instrument of state policy and promoting political
and ethnic reconciliation are crucial to postconflict peace-building and to
furthering the interests of all Sri Lankans — Sinhalese, Tamils and Muslims. So
also is the need to discard the almost mono-ethnic character of the security
forces. Colombo
has to stop dragging its feet on implementing the Constitution’s 13th
amendment, which requires the ceding of some powers at the provincial or local
level.

Sadly, there is little international pressure on Colombo, despite the
leverage offered by the Sri Lankan economy’s need for external credit. The U.S. can veto any decision of the International
Monetary Fund, but it chose to abstain from the recent IMF vote to give Colombo a $2.8 billion
loan. In the face of China’s
stonewalling at the U.N., Ban has been unable to appoint a special envoy on Sri Lanka. A
U.N. special envoy can shine an international spotlight to help build pressure
on a recalcitrant government. But on Sri Lanka,
the best the U.N. has been able to do is to send a political official to Colombo this month for
talks.

It is thus important for the democratic players,
including the United States, the European Union, Japan and Norway — co-chairs
of the so-called Friends of Sri Lanka — and India, to coordinate their policies
on Sri Lanka. If Rajapaksa continues to shun true reconciliation, these
countries should ratchet up pressure on Colombo
by lending support to calls for an international investigation into the
thousands of civilian deaths in the final weeks of the war.

The International Criminal Court has opened an initial
inquiry into Sri Lankan rights-abuse cases that could turn into a full-blown
investigation. Sri Lanka, however, is not an ICC signatory and thus would have
to consent — or be referred by the U.N. Security Council — for the ICC to have
jurisdiction over it. 

As world history attests, peace sought through the
suppression and humiliation of an ethnic community proves to be elusive.

If Rajapaksa wants to earn a place in history as another
Dutugemunu, he has to emulate that ancient king’s post-victory action and make
honorable peace with the Tamils before there is a recrudescence of violence. It
will be a double tragedy for Sri
Lanka if making peace proves more difficult
than making war. 

Brahma Chellaney, a professor of strategic studies at the
independent, privately funded Center for Policy Research in
New
Delhi
, is on the international advisory council of the Campaign for
Peace and Justice in
Sri
Lanka
.

The Japan Times: Saturday, Sept. 19, 2009
(C) All rights reserved

Global spread of democracy comes under challenge

The Rise of Authoritarian Capitalism
 

A fusion of autocratic politics and state-guided capitalism has emerged as the leading challenge to international spread of democratic values.

Brahma Chellaney
The Economic Times
 
Has the global spread of democracy run out of steam? For long, democracy and free markets were touted as the twin answer to most ills. But while free-market tenets have come under strain in the present international financial crisis, with the very countries that espoused the self-regulating power of markets taking the lead to embrace principles of financial socialism to bail out their troubled corporate colossuses, the spread of democracy is encountering increasingly strong headwinds.

Between 1988 and 1990, as the Cold War was winding down, pro-democracy protests broke out in several parts of the world — from China and Burma to Eastern Europe. The protests helped spread political freedoms in Eastern Europe and inspired popular movements elsewhere that overturned dictatorships in countries as disparate as Indonesia, South Korea, Taiwan and Chile. After the Soviet disintegration, even Russia emerged as a credible candidate for democratic reform.

The overthrow of a number of totalitarian or autocratic regimes did shift the global balance of power in favour of the forces of democracy. But not all the pro-democracy movements were successful. And the subsequent “colour revolutions” only instilled greater caution among the surviving authoritarian regimes, prompting them to set up countermeasures to foreign-inspired democratisation initiatives.

Two decades after the fall of the Berlin Wall, the spread of democracy unmistakably has stalled. Democracy may have become the norm in much of Europe, but in the world’s largest and most densely populated continent, Asia, only a small minority of states are true democracies, despite the eastward movement of global power and influence. The strategy to use market forces to open up tightly centralised political systems hasn’t worked in multiple cases in Asia — the pivot of global strategic change.

Political homogeneity may be as inharmonious with economic advance as the parallel pursuit of market capitalism and political autocracy. But where authoritarianism is deeply entrenched, a marketplace of goods and services simply does not allow a marketplace of political ideas.

In fact, one such model distinctly has emerged stronger. China is now the world’s largest and oldest autocracy, with leadership there now preparing to celebrate the 60th anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic. To help glorify the communist revolution, the leadership has planned a mammoth military parade — the largest ever — along with a repeat of some of the Beijing Olympics glitz at the October 1 anniversary. Those Olympic-style celebrations will serve as a double reminder: China has not only weathered the international democratisation push, but also has emerged as a potential peer rival to America. Today there is talk of even a US-China diarchy — a G-2 — ruling the world.

China’s spectacular rise as a global power in just one generation under authoritarian rule represents the first direct challenge to liberal democracy since the rise of Nazi Germany in the 1930s. Through its remarkable success story, China advertises that authoritarianism is a more rapid and smoother way to prosperity and stability than the tumult of electoral politics. Freedom advocates in existing autocracies may be inspired and energised by the international success stories of democratic transition. But the regimes that employ brute power and censorship to subdue dissidence clearly draw encouragement from the China model.

Then there is the spectre of democracy in retreat, highlighted by the developments in Russia and the regressive path of some of the “colour revolutions,” not to mention Central America’s first military coup since the end of the Cold War in Honduras. The “tulip revolution” in Kyrgyzstan has turned sour in the face of rigged elections, assassination of rivals and growing influence of organised crime. Georgia’s “rose revolution” also has wilted under President Mikheil Saakashvili’s increasing despotism.

In Russia, government control has been extended to large swaths of the economy and the political opposition systematically undermined without reopening Stalin’s Gulag Archipelago. Such centralisation, though, is no different than in, say, Singapore and Malaysia, including the domination of one political party, the absence of diversified media, limits on public demonstrations and the writ of security services. But in contrast to Russia, Singapore and Malaysia have largely insulated themselves from official US criticism by serving western interests.

China, for its part, has stayed abreast with technological innovations to help deny dissidents the latest means to denounce injustice. The widespread use of Twitter, Facebook, instant messaging and cellular phones by Iranian protesters cannot be emulated by Chinese dissidents because Beijing employs cyberpolice to regulate websites, patrol cybercafés, monitor cellphone text messaging and track down internet activists. And unlike Iran’s clerically controlled democracy, China holds no elections to elect its leaders, not even sham elections.

More broadly, the US occupation of Iraq under the garb of spreading democracy as well as excesses like Guantanamo Bay and secret CIA detention camps overseas had the effect of undermining the credibility of democratic values by presenting them as a geopolitical tool. Today, liberal democratic norms, far from becoming universal, have come under attack at a time when a qualitative reordering of global power is empowering non-western economies. That raises the possibility that, in the coming decades, economies driven by a fusion of autocratic politics and crony, state-guided capitalism could gain the upper hand.

A divide centred on political values will carry major geopolitical implications because, as modern history attests, regime character can impede observance of global norms and rules. Even if democratic governments are not more wedded to peace than autocracies, it is well established that democracies rarely go to war with each other. Today, the main challenge to the global spread of democracy comes from the model blending political authoritarianism and state-steered capitalism together. What if such authoritarian capitalism becomes the face of the future in large parts of the world?

 
The author is professor of strategic studies at the Centre for Policy Research.

 
(c) The Economic Times: September 17, 2009

A Way Out of Afghanistan

An advantageous U.S. exit

By BRAHMA CHELLANEY

The Japan Times

America’s war in Afghanistan is approaching a tipping point, with doubts about President Barack Obama’s strategy rising. Yet, after dispatching 21,000 additional U.S. forces to Afghanistan, Obama is considering sending another 14,000 combat troops there. Let’s be clear: America’s Afghan war is just not winnable.

First, Obama has redefined U.S. goals too narrowly. America’s primary goal now is not to defeat the Taliban but to prevent al-Qaida from using Afghanistan as a base to launch an attack on the United States.

Obama told the Associated Press in a July 2 interview, "I have a very narrow definition of success when it comes to our national security interests, and that is that al-Qaida and its affiliates cannot set up safe havens from which to attack America."

But al-Qaida is not really a factor in the Afghan war, where the principal combatants are the U.S. military and the Taliban plus associated militias. Rather than seek to defeat the Taliban, Washington has encouraged Pakistani, Afghan and Saudi intelligence to hold proxy talks with the Taliban’s top leadership holed up in the Pakistani city of Quetta.

Second, the U.S. is fighting the wrong war. After the American invasion drove al-Qaida leaders from Afghanistan, Pakistan has emerged as the main base and sanctuary for transnational terrorists. Support and sustenance for the Taliban and many other Afghan militants also comes from inside Pakistan. Yet Obama pursues a military surge in Afghanistan but an aid surge to Pakistan, to the extent that Islamabad is being made the single largest recipient of U.S. assistance in the world.

In that light, Obama’s war strategy is questionable. To defeat al-Qaida, the U.S. doesn’t need a troop buildup — certainly not in Afghanistan. Without a large ground force in Afghanistan or even major ground operations, the U.S. can hold al-Qaida remnants at bay in their havens in the mountainous tribal regions of Pakistan through covert operations, Predator drones and cruise-missile attacks. Isn’t that precisely what the CIA already is doing?

U.S. intelligence believes that al-Qaida already is badly fragmented and weakened and thus is in no position to openly challenge American interests. According to the 2009 Annual Threat Assessment of the Intelligence Community: "Because of the pressure we and our allies have put on al-Qaida’s core leadership in Pakistan . . . al-Qaida today is less capable and effective than it was a year ago."

Had the Obama goal been to rout the Taliban, a further military surge may have made sense because a resurgent Taliban can be defeated only through major ground operations, not by airstrikes and covert actions alone. Yet, the Obama administration presses ahead with a "clear, hold, build" strategy.

When the administration’s principal war target is not the Taliban but rather al-Qaida remnants on the run, why chase a troop-intensive strategy pivoted on protecting population centers to win grassroots support? In reality, what it calls a "clear, hold, build" strategy is actually a "surge, bribe, run" strategy, except that the muddled nature of the mission and the deepening U.S. involvement crimp the "run" option.

America’s quandary is a reminder that it is easier to get into a war than to get out. In fact, Obama undermined his unfolding war strategy last March by publicly declaring, "There’s got to be an exit strategy." The message that sent to the Taliban and its sponsor, the Pakistani military, was that they ought to simply out-wait the Americans to reclaim Afghanistan.

Before Afghanistan becomes a Vietnam-style quagmire, Obama must rethink his plan for another troop surge. Gradually drawing down U.S. troop levels indeed makes more sense because what holds the disparate constituents of the Taliban syndicate together is a common opposition to foreign military presence.

An American military exit from Afghanistan will not come as a shot in the arm for the forces of global jihad, as many in Washington seem to fear. To the contrary, it will remove the common unifying element and unleash developments whose significance would be largely internal or regional. In Afghanistan, a vicious power struggle would break out along sectarian and ethnic lines. The Taliban, with the active support of the Pakistani military, would certainly make a run for Kabul to replay the 1996 power grab.

But it won’t be easy to repeat 1996. For one, the Taliban is splintered today, with the tail (private armies and militias) wagging the dog. For another, the non-Taliban and non-Pashtun forces now are stronger, more organized and better prepared than in 1996 to resist the Taliban’s advance to Kabul, having been empowered by the autonomy they have enjoyed in provinces or by the offices they still hold in the Afghan federal government.

Also, by retaining Afghan bases to carry out covert operations and Predator missions and other airstrikes, the U.S. military would be able to unleash punitive air power to prevent a 1996 repeat. After all, it was the combination of American air power and the Northern Alliance’s ground operations that ousted the Taliban from power in 2001.

Against this background, the most likely outcome of the Afghan power struggle triggered by an American decision to pull out would be the formalization of the present de facto partition of Afghanistan along ethnic lines. Iraq, too, is headed in the same direction.

The Tajiks, Uzbeks, Hazaras and other ethnic minorities would be able to ensure self-governance in the Afghan areas they dominate, leaving the Pashtun lands on both sides of the British-drawn Durand Line in ferment. Thanks to ethnic polarization, the Durand Line, or the Afpak border, exists today only on maps. On the ground, it has little political, ethnic and economic relevance.

As in Iraq, an American withdrawal would potentially let loose forces of Balkanization in the Afpak belt. That may sound disturbing, but this would be an unintended and perhaps unstoppable consequence of the U.S. invasion.

An American pullout actually would aid the fight against international terrorism. Instead of staying bogged down in Afghanistan and seeking to cajole and bribe the Pakistani military from continuing to provide succor to Islamic militants, Washington would become free to pursue a broader and more-balanced counterterrorism strategy.

Also, minus the Afghan-war burden, the U.S. would better appreciate the dangers to international security posed by Pakistani terror groups like the Lashkar-e-Taiba and Jaish-e- Mohammed. The threat of an Islamist takeover of Pakistan comes not from the Taliban but from these groups that have long drawn support from the Pakistani army as part of the deep-rooted military-mullah alliance.

Brahma Chellaney, a professor of strategic studies at the privately funded Center for Policy Research in New Delhi, is a regular contributor to The Japan Times.
 
The Japan Times: Monday, Sept. 14, 2009
(C) All rights reserved

Deadlocked Sino-Indian border talks

Clueless on China

Brahma Chellaney

India Abroad, September 18, 2009

The latest round of the unending and fruitless India-China talks on
territorial disputes was a fresh reminder of the eroding utility of this
process. It is approaching nearly three decades since
China and India began these negotiations. In
this period, the world has changed fundamentally. Indeed, with its rapidly
accumulating military and economic power,
China
itself has emerged as a great power in the making, with
Washington’s
Asia policy now manifestly Sino-centric. Not
only has
India allowed its
military and nuclear asymmetry with
China
to grow, but also
New Delhi’s
room for diplomatic maneuver is shrinking. As the Indian navy chief, Admiral
Suresh Mehta, has put it plainly,
the
power “gap between the two is just too wide to bridge and getting wider by the
day.”

Of course, power asymmetry in interstate relations does not mean
the weaker side must bend to the dictates of the stronger or seek to propitiate
it. Wise strategy, coupled with good diplomacy, is the art of offsetting or
neutralizing military or economic power imbalance with another state. But as Admiral
Mehta warned, “
China
is in the process of consolidating its comprehensive national power and
creating formidable military capabilities. One it is done,
China is likely
to be more assertive on its claims, especially in the immediate neighborhood.”

It is thus obvious that the longer the process of border-related talks continues
without yielding tangible results, the greater the space
Beijing
will have to mount strategic pressure on
India and the greater its leverage
in the negotiations. After all,
China
already holds the military advantage on the ground. Its forces control the
heights along the long 4.057-kilometer Himalayan frontier, with the Indian
troops perched largely on the lower levels. Furthermore, by building new railroads,
airports and highways in
Tibet,
China is now in a position
to rapidly move additional forces to the border to potentially strike at
India at a time
of its choosing.

Diplomatically, China
is a contented party, having occupied what it wanted — the Aksai Chin plateau,
which is
almost the size of Switzerland
and provides the only accessible Tibet-Xinjiang route through the
Karakoram passes of the Kunlun Mountains.
Yet it chooses
to press claims on additional Indian territories as part of a grand strategy to
gain leverage in bilateral relations and, more importantly, to keep
India under military
and diplomatic pressure.

At the core of its strategy is an apparent resolve to indefinitely hold off
on a border settlement with
India
through an overt refusal to accept the territorial status quo. In not hiding
its intent to further redraw the Himalayan frontiers,
Beijing only helps highlight the futility of
the ongoing process of political negotiations. After all, the territorial
status quo can be changed not through political talks but by further military
conquest. Yet, paradoxically, the political process remains important for
Beijing to provide the façade of engagement behind which
to seek
India’s
containment.

Keeping India
engaged in endless talks is a key Chinese objective so that
Beijing can continue its work on changing the
Himalayan balance decisively in its favor through a greater build-up of military
power and logistical capabilities. That is why
China
has sought to shield the negotiating process from the perceptible hardening of
its stance towards
New Delhi and the
vituperative attacks against
India
in its state-run media. Add to the picture the aggressive patrolling of the
Himalayan frontier by the People’s Liberation Army and the growing Chinese
incursions across the line of control.

Let’s be clear: Chinese negotiating tactics have shifted markedly over
the decades. Beijing originally floated the swap idea — giving up its claims in
India’s northeast in return for Indian acceptance of the Chinese control over a
part of Ladakh — to legalize its occupation of Aksai Chin. It then sang the
mantra of putting the territorial disputes on the backburner so that the two
countries could concentrate on building close, mutually beneficial relations. But
in more recent years, in keeping with its rising strength,
China has escalated border tensions
and military incursions while assertively laying claim to Arunachal Pradesh.
According to a recent report in
Ming Pao, a Hong Kong paper with close ties to the
establishment in
Beijing, China is seeking “just” 28 percent
of Arunachal. That means an area nearly the size of
Taiwan.

In that light, can the Sino-Indian border talks be kept
going indefinitely? Consider two important facts.

First, the present border negotiations have been going on continuously
since 1981, making them already the longest and the most-barren process between
any two countries in modern history. The record includes
eight rounds of senior-level talks between 1981 and
1987, 14 Joint Working Group meetings between 1988 and 2002, and 13 rounds of
talks between the designated Special Representatives since 2003.
 

It seems the only progress
in this process is that
India’s
choice of words in public is now the same as
China’s. “B
oth countries
have agreed to seek a fair, reasonable and mutually acceptable settlement of
this issue,” Indian External Affairs Minister S.M. Krishna told Parliament on
July 31. “The matter, of course, is complex and requires time and lots of
patience.” It was as if the Chinese foreign minister was speaking. Isn’t it odd
for
India
— the country at the receiving end of growing Chinese bellicosity — to plead
for more time and patience after nearly three decades of negotiations?

Second, the authoritative People’s Daily — the
Communist Party mouthpiece that reflects official thinking — made it clear in a
June 11, 2009 editorial: “
China
won’t make any compromises in its border disputes with
India.” That reflects the Chinese
position in the negotiations. But when
Beijing
is advertising its uncompromising stance, doesn’t
New Delhi get the message?  The recent essay posted on a Chinese
quasi-official website that called for
India
to be broken
into 20 to
30 sovereign states cannot obscure an important fact: Dismember India is a
project
China
launched in the Mao years when it trained and armed Naga and Mizo guerrillas. In
initiating its proxy war against
India,
Pakistan
merely took a leaf out of the Chinese book. 

Today, China’s
muscle-flexing along the
Himalayas cannot be
ignored. After all, even when
China
was poor and backward, it employed brute force to annex Xinjiang (1949) and
Tibet (1950), to raid South
Korea
(1950), to invade India
(1962), to initiate a border conflict with the Soviet Union through a military
ambush
(1969)
and to attack
Vietnam
(1979). A prosperous, militarily strong
China cannot but be a threat to its
neighbors, especially if there are no constraints on the exercise of Chinese
power.

So, the key question is: What does India gain by staying put in an interminably
barren negotiating process with
China?
By persisting with this process, isn’t
India
aiding the Chinese engagement-with-containment strategy by providing
Beijing the cover it
needs? While
Beijing’s strategy and tactics are
apparent,
India
has had difficulty to define a game-plan and resolutely pursue clearly laid-out
objectives. Still, staying put in a barren process cannot be an end in itself
for
India.

India indeed has retreated to an
increasingly defensive position territorially, with the spotlight now on
China’s Tibet-linked claim to Arunachal Pradesh than
on
Tibet’s
status itself.
Now you know why Beijing invested so much
political capital over the years in getting
India
to gradually accept
Tibet
as part of the territory of the People’s Republic. Its success on that score
has helped narrow the dispute to what it claims. That neatly meshes with
China’s
long-standing negotiating stance: What it occupies is Chinese territory, and
what it claims must be on the table to be settled on the basis of give-and-take
— or as it puts it in reasonably sounding terms, on the basis of “mutual
accommodation and mutual understanding.”

As a result, India
has been left in the unenviable position of having to fend off Chinese territorial
demands. In fact, history is in danger of repeating itself as
India gets
sucked into a 1950s-style trap.
The issue then was Aksai Chin;
the issue now is Arunachal. But rather than put the focus on the source of
China’s claim — Tibet — and Beijing’s attempt to territorially enlarge its
Tibet annexation to what it calls “southern Tibet,” India is willing to be
taken ad infinitum around the mulberry bush. Just because
New
Delhi
has accepted Tibet
to be part of
China should
not prevent it from gently shining a spotlight on
Tibet as the lingering core issue.

Yet India’s
long record of political diffidence only emboldens
Beijing. India
accepted the Chinese annexation of
Tibet
and surrendered its own British-inherited extraterritorial rights over
Tibet on a
silver platter without asking for anything in return. Now,
China wants India to display the same “amicable
spirit” and hand over to it at least the Tawang valley.

Take the period since the border talks were “elevated” to
the level of special representatives in 2003.
India
first got into an extended exercise with
Beijing
to define general principles to govern a border settlement, despite
China’s
egregious record of flouting the Panchsheel principles and committing naked
aggression in 1962. But no sooner had the border-related principles been
unveiled in 2005 with fanfare than
Beijing
jettisoned the do-not-disturb-the-settled-populations principle to buttress its
claim to Arunachal.

Yet, as the most-recent round of talks highlighted this
month,
India has agreed to
let the negotiations go off at a tangent by broadening them into a diffused strategic
dialogue — to the delight of
Beijing.
The process now has become a means for the two sides to discuss “
the entire gamut of bilateral relations and regional and
international issues of mutual interest.”

This not only opens yet another chapter in an increasingly
directionless process, but also lets
China condition a border settlement
to the achievement of greater Sino-Indian strategic congruence. Worse still,
New Delhi is to observe 2010 — the 60th anniversary of China becoming India’s
neighbor by gobbling up
Tibet
— as the “Year of Friendship with
China
in
India.

(c) India Abroad,
2009.

Beware: Dragon Trap

Dragon’s war dance

India is in serious danger of sliding into a 1962-type dragon trap. It needs high-quality statecraft to ensure that it does not get caught in China’s elaborate efforts to ratchet up border tensions, says Brahma Chellaney

DNA newspaper, September 11, 2009

The 32-day surprise Chinese invasion in 1962 lasted longer than the 1965 and 1971 wars with Pakistan and claimed the lives of more Indian soldiers than any other aggression faced by India since independence, with the exception of 1971. Yet the myth still being peddled internationally is that 1962 was a brief war. Today, as Chinese cross-frontier incursions grow and border tensions rise, the situation is becoming similar to the one that prevailed in the run-up to 1962. The several parallels raise the spectre of another Chinese attack.

First, like in the pre-1962 period, it has become commonplace internationally to speak of India and China in the same breadth. The aim of “Mao’s India war”, as Harvard scholar Roderick MacFarquhar has called it, was large political: To cut India to size by demolishing what it represented — a democratic alternative to the Chinese autocracy. The brute force with which Mao Zedong humiliated India helped discredit the Indian model, boost China’s international image and consolidate Mao’s internal power. The return of the China-India pairing decades later is something Beijing viscerally loathes.

Second, the Dalai Lama’s flight to India in 1959 — and the ready sanctuary he got there — paved the way for the Chinese military attack. Today, 50 years after his escape, the exiled Tibetan leader stands as a bigger challenge than ever for China, as underscored by Beijing’s stepped-up vilification campaign against him. With Beijing now treating the Dalai Lama as its Enemy No. 1, India has come under greater Chinese pressure to curb his activities and those of his government-in-exile. The continuing security clampdown in Tibet since the March 2008 Tibetan uprising parallels the harsh Chinese crackdown in Tibet during 1959-62.

Three, the present pattern of cross-frontier incursions and other border incidents, as well as new force deployments and mutual recriminations, is redolent of the situation that prevailed before the 1962 war. According to the Indian army chief, “This year, there were 21 incursions in June, 20 in July and 24 in August.” Such is the rising graph of Chinese cross-border forays that such intrusions nearly doubled in two years, from 140 in 2006 to 270 in 2008. Little surprise the defence minister warned as early as April 2008 that there is “no room for complacency” along the Himalayan frontier.

Four, the 1962 invasion occurred against the backdrop of China instigating and arming insurgents in India’s northeast. Although such activities ceased after Mao’s 1976 death, China seems to be coming full circle today, with Chinese-made arms increasingly flowing into guerrilla ranks in northeastern India, including via Burma. India has taken up this matter with Beijing at the foreign minister-level. Indeed, Pakistan-based terrorists targeting India now rely on Chinese arms — from the AK-56 assault rifles to the Type 86 grenades made by China’s state-owned Norinco firm. To add to India’s woes, Beijing has blocked efforts to get the United Nations to designate as a terrorist the Pakistan-based Jaish-e-Muhammad group chief, Masood Azhar.

Five, then-Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru’s slogan, “Hindi-Chini bhai bhai” (Indians and Chinese are brothers), is today matched by the “Chindia” concept, which — disregarding the rivalry and antagonisms — blends the two Asian giants together.

Sixth, just as India had retreated to a defensive position in the border negotiations with Beijing in the early 1960s after having undermined its leverage by accepting the “Tibet region of China” through the 1954 Panchsheel Agreement, New Delhi similarly has been left in the unenviable position today of having to fend off Chinese territorial demands. Whatever leverage India still had on the Tibet issue was surrendered in 2003 when it shifted its position from Tibet being an “autonomous” region within China to it being “part of the territory of the People’s Republic of China.” Little surprise the spotlight now is on China’s Tibet-linked claim to Arunachal Pradesh than on Tibet’s status itself.

That explains why Beijing invested so much political capital over the years in getting India to gradually accept Tibet as part of China. Its success on that score narrows the dispute to what it claims today. The issue in 1962 was Aksai Chin; the issue now is Arunachal, particularly Tawang. But had Beijing really believed Tawang was part of Tibet and hence belonged to China, the Chinese military would have held on to that critical corridor after its capture in 1962, just as it kept the territorial gains of that war in Ladakh.

With India in serious danger of sliding into a 1962-type dragon trap, the country needs high-quality statecraft to handle the present situation and ensure the nation is not again told what Nehru stated the day China attacked — that Beijing returned “evil for good.”

Brahma Chellaney is professor at the Centre for Policy Research in New Delhi.

Why India must build a credible nuclear deterrent

India: Nuclear diffidence,
not deterrence

More than a decade after Pokhran II, India lacks even minimal nuclear-deterrent capability against China.

Brahma Chellaney  India Abroad  September 11, 2009

By
certifying that the 1998 thermonuclear (hydrogen) bomb test was a success,
Prime Minister Manmohan Singh can hardly defuse the renewed national
controversy over that issue. After all, Dr. Singh, while in the opposition, had
not hidden his anti-nuclear sentiment. 

In
fact, he had
warned that the 1998 nuclear tests would seriously impair the national
economy. But
India’s
foreign-exchange reserves actually multiplied five times within seven years and
its GDP growth accelerated sharply. Who had looked at
India as a
rising power before 1998?

Even
former President A.P.J. Abdul Kalam’s certificate cannot squelch questions over
the thermonuclear test. From the Indo-U.S. civilian nuclear deal to the
hydrogen bomb, Kalam has been ever ready to defend official claims, but the
missile program he headed still staggers. In the long years he spent in the
missile program, Kalam could not give
India the basic missile capability
for self-defense.  

India‘s nuclear strategic program has always been shielded
from parliamentary scrutiny and CAG audit. So, it is hard to reliably determine
whether
India‘s
sole thermonuclear test fizzled out quickly or was a success, as officially
claimed. But some facts speak for themselves.

One telling fact is that more than 11 years later,
India
has still not weaponized the thermonuclear technology, even though the test in
1998 was supposed to have catapulted the country into the big-power league. The
thermonuclear test, obviously, was not intended merely as a technology
demonstrator. Therefore, it is legitimate to ask: What has been the security
benefit for the country from that test?

Even more glaring is another fact: More than 35
years after Pokhran I,
India
stands out as a reluctant and tentative
 nuclear power,
still lacking even a barely minimal deterrent capability against
China. Given
the growing military asymmetry with
China, a proven and weaponized
Indian thermonuclear capability, backed by long-range missiles, is critical to
deter the assertive and ambitious northern neighbor. But today,
India does not
have a single Beijing-reachable missile in deployment.

Had India
developed and deployed a minimal but credible
 nuclear-weapons
capability,
China
would not have dared to mess with it. But the increasing Chinese bellicosity,
reflected in rising border incursions and the hardening of
Beijing‘s
stance on territorial disputes, suggests
China
is only getting emboldened against a weaker
India.

Consider yet another unpalatable fact: No country
has struggled longer to build a minimal deterrent or paid heavier international
costs for its
 nuclear program than India
The history of
India’s
 nuclear-weapons program is
actually a record of how it helped establish multilateral technology controls. Pokhran
I, for example, impelled the secret formation of the
 Nuclear Suppliers
Group (NSG).
India’s
space program
 helped give birth to the Missile Technology Control
Regime.

Yet, before it has built a credible minimal
deterrent,
India came full
circle when it entered into a civilian
 nuclear deal with the US and secured an exemption from
the NSG last year to import high-priced commercial
 nuclear power
reactors and fuel. In doing so, it had to accept nonproliferation conditions
that aim to stunt its
 nuclear-deterrent development.

Through this deal, India is seeking to replicate in
the energy sector the very mistake it has made on armaments. Now the world’s
largest arms importer,
India
spends more than $6 billion every year on importing conventional weapons, some
of dubious value, while it neglects to build its own armament-production base.

Conventional weapons simply cannot deter a nuclear adversary.
Deterrence against a
 nuclear foe can only be built on nuclear capability,
especially a second-strike capability that can survive the enemy’s first strike
to inflict massive retaliation.

The key point to note is that with a credible nuclear deterrent,
India would be
under less pressure to keep on spending more than $6 billion annually on arms
imports. Put simply, a small but effective nuclear deterrent can help the
country save money.

Another important point to remember is that
conventional weapons are very expensive in comparison to nukes.
India’s annual
bill for arms imports is far higher than its total annual budget for the
nuclear, missile and space programmes put together. 

Any cost-benefit analysis would show that a credible
nuclear deterrent would be both a cost saver and a security guarantor. It will
deter any open cross-border aggression as well as provide the savings to be ploughed
into civilian modernization.

World history attests that rapid economic power can be
accumulated only through secure national borders. Take Communist
China: Before strongman Deng Xiaoping launched
the economic-modernization program,
Beijing
already had developed its first
intercontinental-range
ballistic missile (ICBM) with nuclear-warhead capability. With the security
provided by such capability, it began building economic power, generating in
the process lots of additional resources for acquiring military muscle. But
India, in the
21st century, does not have an ICBM even on the design board.

More
broadly, Indian policymakers have yet to recognize that no nation can be a
major power without three attributes: A high level of autonomous and innovative
technological capability; a capacity to meet basic defense needs indigenously;
and a capability to project power far beyond its borders, especially through
intercontinental-range weaponry.
India is deficient in all the three
areas.

It is not an accident that all the countries armed
with intercontinental-range ballistic missiles (ICBMs) are permanent members of
the UN Security Council. But rather than aim for a technological leap through a
crash ICBM
 program, India
remains interminably stuck in the Intermediate-Range Ballistic Missile (IRBM)
stage. It is still trying to master a missile-strike range of 3,000 kilometers.

In
fact, in
an action that ominously harks back to the 1991-95 period when Manmohan
Singh as finance minister starved the nuclear programme of necessary funds for
expansion, the government’s 2008-09 budget slashed the Department of Atomic
Energy’s funding by $529 million. No explanation was offered to the nation.
Under the nuclear deal, the government has agreed to voluntarily shut down by
next year one of the country’s two bomb-grade plutonium-production reactors,
the Cirus, although current international estimates of India’s weapons-grade
fissile material stockpile put its quantity just marginally higher than
Pakistan’s.

More than a decade after Pokhran II, India doesn’t
have much to celebrate. Nuclear diffidence continues to hold it down. It still
doesn’t have minimal, let alone, credible deterrence. Its military asymmetry
with China has grown to the extent that many in its policymaking community seem
to be losing faith in the country’s ability to defend itself with its own
means.

Against this background, the latest claim that the
1998 thermonuclear test performed well under par can only further damage the
credibility of India’s
 nuclear posture. The controversy over the thermonuclear test,
however, is nothing new. No sooner had the test been conducted than a former
head of the Indian
 nuclear program, P.K. Iyengar, questioned official claims of
success.

In such a setting — with critics within and
outside the country questioning the success of the test — India must be ready
to convincingly re-demonstrate its thermonuclear capability, should a
propitious international opportunity arise from a
 nuclear test
conducted by another power.
 Nuclear deterrence, after all, is like beauty: It lies in the
eyes of the beholder. It is not what India’s
 nuclear establishment
claims but what outsiders, especially regional adversaries, believe that
constitutes deterrence (or the lack of it).

Brahma Chellaney is one of India’s leading nuclear and
strategic affairs experts.

(c) India Abroad, 2009.

Eight years after 9/11: America’s Afghan options

U.S. exit from Afghanistan to bring gains

Brahma Chellaney

An Afghan shopkeeper looks through his shop supplies as he waits for customers in the city of Jalalabad, Afghanistan.

An American military exit from Afghanistan, far from boosting the global-jihad syndicate, is likely to trigger developments largely internal or regional in nature while aiding the global fight against terrorism.

The Hindu newspaper, September 11, 2009

America’s war in Afghanistan is approaching a tipping point, with doubts about President Barack Obama’s strategy rising and three-quarters of the Democratic voters polled opposing continued U.S. combat operations there. Even the main war proponent — the Republican camp — seems split, with prominent conservative voices like George F. Will and Chuck Hagel now calling for an American pullout. Yet Mr. Obama, after dispatching 21,000 additional U.S. forces to Afghanistan, is planning to send another 14,000 combat troops while outsourcing military-support jobs there to create an illusion of no new surge.

Mr. Obama, clearly, is in a major predicament over a war he inherited, with no workable options for him to stabilise Afghanistan by next year or even to pull out military forces while saving face. Still, he is deepening American involvement there, thereby spurring serious apprehensions at home. Eight years after 9/11, an American invasion that started with the objective of winning the war on terror is in danger of becoming Mr. Obama’s Vietnam — a quagmire with a confused political mission.

Vice-President Joe Biden has warned that “more loss” of U.S. lives is “inevitable,” while Admiral Mike Mullen, chairman of the U.S. Joint Chiefs of Staff, has admitted, “The enemy’s getting better and tougher. And we need to turn that around in the next 12 to 18 months.” That was exactly the timeframe Mr. Obama had in mind when he launched the military surge. But with every month now proving more deadly, a war-weary U.S. public and Congress may be reluctant to patiently wait that long for the promised turnaround. The Obama narrative — that this is the war of necessity, unlike Iraq — is coming under growing attack.

Put simply, Mr. Obama’s ambitious new war strategy, including doubling the number of American troops on the ground and replacing the top U.S. general in Afghanistan, isn’t working. Not only are more American soldiers dying in Afghanistan than in Iraq, but there has been a 1,000 per cent increase in IED attacks by Afghan militants since mid-2005. It is the alarming rise in the sophistication and frequency of roadside bomb attacks that has made the Afghan war increasingly bloody. Mr. Obama also has been locked in a losing battle in the other part of his Afpak strategy — to win hearts and minds in Pakistan through an unprecedented aid flow to that country.

Let’s be clear: America’s Afghan war is just not winnable for two main reasons. Firstly, Mr. Obama has redefined U.S. goals too narrowly. America’s primary goal now is not to defeat the Taliban but to prevent the al-Qaeda from using Afghanistan as a base to launch an attack on the United States. Mr. Obama candidly told the Associated Press in a July 2 interview: “I have a very narrow definition of success when it comes to our national security interests, and that is that al-Qaeda and its affiliates cannot set up safe havens from which to attack America.” But the al-Qaeda is not really a factor in the Afghan war, where the principal combatants are the American military and the Taliban, with its associated militias and private armies. Rather than seek to defeat the Taliban, Washington indeed has encouraged the Pakistani, Afghan and Saudi intelligence to hold proxy negotiations with the Taliban’s top leadership, holed up in Quetta.

Secondly, the U.S. is fighting the wrong war. Eight years after the American invasion drove the al-Qaeda leaders from Afghanistan, Pakistan has emerged as the main base and sanctuary for transnational terrorists. Support and sustenance for the Taliban and many other Afghan militants also come from inside Pakistan. Yet Mr. Obama pursues a military surge in Afghanistan but an aid surge to Pakistan, to the extent that Islamabad is being made the single largest recipient of U.S. assistance in the world.

In that light, Mr. Obama’s war strategy is questionable. Given that he has abandoned his predecessor’s goal to defeat the Taliban and capture dead or alive its one-eyed leader, Mullah Mohammad Omar, his move to induct even more American troops stirs widespread concern.

To defeat the al-Qaeda, the U.S. doesn’t need a troop build-up — certainly not in Afghanistan. Without a large ground force in Afghanistan or even major ground operations, the U.S. can hold the al-Qaeda remnants at bay in their havens in the mountainous tribal regions of Pakistan through covert operations, Predator drones and cruise-missile attacks. Isn’t that precisely what the CIA already is doing, having killed more than a dozen suspected Qaeda figures in Pakistan in recent drone and missile attacks?

Actually, the U.S. intelligence believes that the al-Qaeda already is badly fragmented and weakened and thus is in no position to openly challenge American interests. According to the latest Annual Threat Assessment of the Intelligence Community, “Because of the pressure we and our allies have put on Al Qaeda’s core leadership in Pakistan … Al Qaeda today is less capable and effective than it was a year ago.”

Had the Obama goal been to rout the Taliban, a further military surge may have made sense because a resurgent Taliban can be defeated only through major ground operations, not by air-strikes and covert actions alone. Yet, having abandoned the international goal of institution-building in Afghanistan by equating it with nation-building, the Obama administration presses ahead with a “clear, hold, build” strategy. When the administration’s principal war target is not the Taliban but the al-Qaeda remnants on the run, why chase a troop-intensive strategy pivoted on protecting population centres to win grassroots support? In reality, what it calls a “clear, hold, build” strategy is actually a “surge, bribe, run” strategy, except that the muddled nature of the mission and the deepening U.S. involvement crimp the “run” option.

America’s quandary is a reminder that it is easier to get into a war than to get out. In fact, Mr. Obama undermined his own unfolding war strategy last March by publicly declaring, “There’s got to be an exit strategy.” The message it sent to the Taliban and its sponsor, the Pakistani military, was that they ought to simply outwait the Americans to reclaim Afghanistan.

Before Afghanistan becomes a Vietnam-style quagmire for the U.S., Mr. Obama must rethink his plan for another troop surge. Gradually drawing down U.S. troop levels indeed makes more sense because what holds the disparate constituents of the Taliban syndicate together is a common opposition to foreign military presence.

An American military exit from Afghanistan will not come as a shot in the arm for the forces of global jihad, as many in Washington seem to fear. To the contrary, it will remove the common unifying element and unleash developments whose significance would be largely internal or regional. In Afghanistan, a vicious power struggle would break out along sectarian and ethnic lines.

The Taliban, with the active support of the Pakistani military, would certainly make a run for Kabul to replay the 1996 power grab. But it won’t be easy to repeat 1996. For one, the Taliban is too splintered today, with the tail (private armies and militias) wagging the dog. For another, the non-Taliban and non-Pashtun forces now are stronger, more organised and better prepared than in 1996 to resist the Taliban’s advance to Kabul, having been empowered by the autonomy they have enjoyed in provinces or by the offices they still hold in the Afghan federal government. By retaining Afghan bases to carry out covert operations and Predator missions and other air-strikes, the U.S. military would be able to unleash punitive air power to prevent a 1996 repeat. After all, it was the combination of American air power and Northern Alliance’s ground operations that ousted the Taliban from power in 2001.

In fact, the most likely outcome of the Afghan power struggle triggered by an American decision to pull out would be the formalisation of the present de facto partition of Afghanistan along ethnic lines. Iraq, too, is headed in the same direction. The Tajiks, Uzbeks, Hazaras and other ethnic minorities would be able to ensure self-governance in the Afghan areas they dominate, leaving the Pashtun lands on both sides of the Durand Line in ferment. Thanks to ethnic polarisation, the Durand Line today exists only in maps. On the ground, it has little political, ethnic and economic relevance, and it will be militarily impracticable to re-impose the line.

As in Iraq, an American withdrawal would potentially let loose forces of Balkanisation in the Afpak belt. That may sound disturbing. But this would be an unintended and perhaps unstoppable consequence of the U.S. invasion.

An American pullout would also aid the fight against international terrorism. Instead of staying bogged down in Afghanistan and seeking to cajole and bribe the Pakistani military from continuing to provide succour to Islamic militants, Washington would become free to pursue a broader and more balanced counterterrorism strategy. Also, minus the Afghan-war burden, the U.S. would better appreciate the dangers to international security posed by Pakistani terror groups like the Lashkar-e-Taiba and the Jaish-e-Mohammed. The threat of an Islamist takeover of Pakistan comes not from the Taliban but from these groups that have long drawn support from the Pakistani army as part of a deep-rooted military-mullah alliance.

(Brahma Chellaney is Professor of Strategic Studies at the Centre for Policy Research in New Delhi.)

Is China itching to wage war on India?

India’s Growing China Angst
Largely unknown to the rest of the world, China-India border tensions have escalated in recent months, raising the specter of armed conflict along the Himalayas
 
By Brahma Chellaney

Far Eastern Economic Review (September 2009)

At a time when the global power structure is qualitatively being transformed, the economic rise of China and India draws ever more attention. But the world has taken little notice of the rising border tensions and sharpening geopolitical rivalry between the two giants that represent competing political and social models of development.

China and India have had little political experience historically in dealing with each other. After all, China became India’s neighbor not owing to geography but guns — by forcibly occupying buffer Tibet in 1950. As new neighbors, India and China have been on a learning curve. Their 32-day war in 1962 did not settle matters because China’s dramatic triumph only sowed the seeds of greater rivalry.

In recent months, hopes of a politically negotiated settlement of the lingering territorial disputes have dissipated amid muscle-flexing along the long, 4,057-kilometer Himalayan frontier. A clear indication that the 28-year-old border talks now are deadlocked came when the most-recent round in August turned into a sweeping strategic dialogue on regional and international issues. The escalation in border tensions, though, has prompted an agreement to set up a direct hotline between the two prime ministers. A hotline, however welcome, may not be enough to defuse a situation marked by rising military incursions and other border-related incidents as well as by new force deployments.

A perceptible hardening of China’s stance toward India is at the hub of the bilateral tensions. This hardening became apparent almost three years ago when the Chinese ambassador to India publicly raked up the issue of Arunachal Pradesh, the northeastern Indian state that Beijing calls “Southern Tibet” and claims as its own. For his undiplomatic act on the eve of President Hu Jintao’s New Delhi visit, the ambassador actually received Beijing’s public support. Since then, the Indian army has seen Chinese military incursions increase in frequency across the post-1962 line of control. According to Indian defense officials, there were 270 line-of-control violations by the People’s Liberation Army and 2,285 instances of “aggressive border patrolling” by it last year alone. Other border incidents also are being reported, such as the PLA demolition of some unmanned Indian forward posts at the Tibet-Bhutan-Sikkim trijunction and Chinese attempts to encroach on Indian-held land in Ladakh.

As a result, the India-China frontier has become more “hot” than the India-Pakistan border, but without rival troops trading fire. Indeed, Sino-Indian border tensions now are at their worst since 1986-87, when local military skirmishes broke out after PLA troops moved south of a rivulet marking the line of control in the Sumdorong Chu sector in Arunachal Pradesh. Those skirmishes brought war clouds over the horizon before the two countries moved quickly to defuse the crisis. Today, PLA forays into Indian-held territory are occurring even in the only area where Beijing does not dispute the frontier — Sikkim’s 206-kilometer border with Tibet. Chinese troops repeatedly have attempted to gain control of Sikkim’s evocatively named Finger Area, a tiny but key strategic location.

In response, India has been beefing up its defensive deployments in Arunachal Pradesh, Sikkim and Ladakh to prevent any Chinese land-grab. Besides bringing in tanks to reinforce its defenses in mountainous Sikkim, it is deploying two additional army mountain divisions and two squadrons of the advanced Sukhoi-30 MKI bomber-aircraft in its northeastern state of Assam, backed by three airborne warning and control systems. To improve its logistical capabilities, it has launched a crash program involving new roads, airstrips and advanced landing stations along the Himalayas. None of these steps, however, can materially alter the fact that China holds the military advantage on the ground. Its forces control the heights along the frontier, with the Indian troops perched largely on the lower levels. Furthermore, by building modern railroads, airports and highways in Tibet, China is now in a position to rapidly move large additional forces to the border to potentially strike at India at a time of Beijing’s choosing.

Diplomatically, China is content, long having occupied land at will — principally the Aksai Chin plateau, which is almost the size of Switzerland. Aksai Chin, an integral part of Kashmir long before Xinjiang became a province of China under Manchu rule, provides the only accessible Tibet-Xinjiang route through the Karakoram passes of the Kunlun Mountains. Yet Beijing chooses to press claims on additional Indian territories as part of a grand strategy to keep India under military and diplomatic pressure.

Since ancient times, the Himalayas have universally been regarded as the northern frontiers of India. But having annexed Tibet, China has laid claim to areas far to the south of this Himalayan watershed, as underscored by its claim to Arunachal Pradesh — a state nearly three times the size of Taiwan. That Tibet remains at the core of the India-China divide is being underlined by Beijing itself as its claim to additional Indian territories is based on alleged Tibetan ecclesial or tutelary links to them, not any professed Han connection. Such attempts at incremental annexation actually draw encouragement from India’s self-injurious acceptance of Tibet as part of the People’s Republic of China.

At the center of the Chinese strategy is an overt refusal to accept the territorial status quo. In not hiding its intent to further redraw the frontiers, Beijing only highlights the futility of political negotiations. After all, the status quo can be changed not through political talks but by further military conquest. Yet, paradoxically, the political process remains important for Beijing to provide the façade of engagement while trying to change the realities on the ground. Keeping India engaged in endless, fruitless border talks while stepping up direct and surrogate pressure also chimes with China’s projection of its “peaceful rise.”

But as border tensions have escalated, vituperative attacks on India in the Chinese media have mounted. The Communist Party’s mouthpiece, the People’s Daily, taunted India in a June editorial for lagging behind China in all indices of power and asked it to consider “the consequences of a potential confrontation with China.” Criticizing the Indian moves to strengthen defenses, it peremptorily declared: “China won’t make any compromises in its border disputes with India.” A subsequent commentary in the paper warned India to stop playing into the hands of “some Western powers” by raising the bogey of a “China threat.”

The most-provocative Chinese essay, however, appeared on China International Strategy Net, a quasi-official Web site that enjoys the Communist Party’s backing and is run by an individual who made his name by hacking into United States” government Web sites in retaliation to the 1999 American bombing of the Chinese Embassy in Belgrade. Posted on August 8, the essay called for a Chinese strategy to dismember multiethnic India into 20 to 30 fragments. This is an old, failed project China launched in the Mao years when it trained and armed Naga, Mizo and other tribal guerrillas in India’s restive northeast.

The strains in Sino-Indian relations also have resulted from sharpening geopolitical rivalry. This was evident from China’s botched 2008 effort to stymie the U.S.-India nuclear deal by blocking the Nuclear Suppliers Group from opening civilian nuclear trade with New Delhi. In the NSG, China landed itself in a position it avoids in any international body — as the last holdout. Recently, there has been an outcry in India over attempts to undermine the Indian brand through exports from China of fake pharmaceutical products labeled “Made in India.”

The unsettled border, however, remains at the core of the bilateral tensions. Indeed, 47 years later, the wounds of the 1962 war have been kept open by China’s aggressive claims to additional Indian territories. Even as China has emerged as India’s largest trading partner, the Sino-Indian strategic dissonance and border disputes have become more pronounced. New Delhi has sought to retaliate against Beijing’s growing antagonism by banning Chinese toys and cell phones that do not meet international standards. But such modest trade actions can do little to persuade Beijing to abandon its moves to strategically encircle and squeeze India by employing China’s rising clout in Pakistan, Burma, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka and Nepal.

In fact, the question that needs to be asked is whether New Delhi helped create the context to embolden Beijing to be assertive and bellicose. For long, New Delhi has indulged in ritualized happy talk about the state of its relationship with Beijing, brushing under the rug both long-standing and new problems and hyping the outcome of any bilateral summit meeting. New Delhi now is staring at the harvest of a mismanagement of relations with China over the past two decades by successive governments that chose propitiation to leverage building. New Delhi is so slow to correct its course that mistakes only get compounded. For example: India is to observe 2010 — the 60th anniversary of China becoming India’s neighbor by gobbling up Tibet — as the “Year of Friendship with China.”

Yet another question relates to China’s intention. In muscling up to India, is China seeking to intimidate India or actually fashion an option to wage war on India? In other words, are China’s present-day autocrats itching to see a repeat of 1962? The present situation, in several key aspects, is no different from the one that prevailed in the run-up to the 1962 invasion of India, which then Chinese Premier Zhou Enlai declared was designed “to teach India a lesson.” Consider the numerous parallels:

First, like ike in the pre-1962 war period, it has become commonplace internationally to speak of India and China in the same breadth. The aim of “Mao’s India war,” as Harvard scholar Roderick MacFarquhar has called it, was large political: To cut India to size by demolishing what it represented — a democratic alternative to the Chinese autocracy. The swiftness and force with which Mao Zedong defeated India helped discredit the Indian model, boost China’s international image and consolidate Mao’s internal power. The return of the China-India pairing decades later is something Beijing viscerally detests.

The Dalai Lama’s flight to India in 1959 — and the ready sanctuary he got there — paved the way for the Chinese military attack. Today, 50 years after his escape, the exiled Tibetan leader stands as a bigger challenge than ever for China, as underscored by Beijing’s stepped-up vilification campaign against him and its admission that it is now locked in a “life and death struggle” over Tibet. With Beijing now treating the Dalai Lama as its Enemy No. 1, India has come under greater Chinese pressure to curb his activities and those of his government-in-exile. The continuing security clampdown in Tibet since the March 2008 Tibetan uprising parallels the harsh Chinese crackdown in Tibet during 1959-62.

In addition, the present pattern of crossfrontier incursions and other border incidents, as well as new force deployments and mutual recriminations, is redolent of the situation that prevailed before the 1962 war. When the PLA marched hundreds of miles south to occupy the then-independent Tibet and later nibble at Indian territories, this supposedly was neither an expansionist strategy nor a forward policy. But when the ill-equipped and short-staffed Indian army belatedly sought to set up posts along India’s unmanned Himalayan frontier to try and stop further Chinese encroachments, Beijing and its friends dubbed it a provocative “forward policy.” In the same vein, the present Indian efforts to beef up defenses in the face of growing PLA crossborder forays are being labeled “new forward policy” by Beijing.

Moreover, the 1962 war occurred against the backdrop of China instigating and arming insurgents in India’s northeast. Though such activities ceased after Mao’s 1976 death, China seems to be coming full circle today, with Chinese-made arms increasingly flowing into guerrilla ranks in northeastern India, including via Burmese front organizations. India says it has taken up this matter with Beijing at the foreign minister-level. While a continuing 12-year-old ceasefire has brought peace to Nagaland, some other Indian states like Assam and Manipur are racked by multiple insurgencies, allowing Beijing to fish in troubled waters.

Finally, just as India had retreated to a defensive position in the border negotiations with Beijing in the early 1960s after having undermined its leverage through a formal acceptance of the “Tibet region of China,” New Delhi similarly has been left in the unenviable position today of having to fend off Chinese territorial demands. Whatever leverage India still had on the Tibet issue was surrendered in 2003 when it shifted its position from Tibet being an “autonomous” region within China to it being “part of the territory of the People’s Republic of China.” Little surprise the spotlight now is on China’s Tibet-linked claim to Arunachal Pradesh than on Tibet’s status itself.

This is why Beijing invested so much political capital over the years in getting India to gradually accept Tibet as part of China. Its success on that score has helped narrow the dispute to what it claims. That neatly meshes with China’s long-standing negotiating stance: What it occupies is Chinese territory, and what it claims must be shared — or as it puts it in reasonably sounding terms, though a settlement based on “mutual accommodation and mutual understanding.” So, while publicly laying claim to the whole of Arunachal Pradesh, China in private is asking India to cede at least that state’s strategic Tawang Valley — a critical corridor between Lhasa and Assam of immense military import because it overlooks the chicken-neck that connects India’s northeast with the rest of the country.

In fact, with the Dalai Lama having publicly repudiated Chinese claims that Arunachal Pradesh, or even just Tawang, was part of Tibet, a discomfited Beijing sought to impress upon his representatives in the now-suspended dialogue process that for any larger political deal to emerge, the Tibetan government-in-exile must support China’s position that Arunachal has been part of traditional Tibet. The plain fact is that with China’s own claim to Tibet being historically dubious, its claims to Indian territories are doubly suspect.

Today, as India gets sucked into a pre-1962-style trap, history is in danger of repeating itself. The issue then was Aksai Chin; the issue now is Arunachal. But India is still reluctant to shine a spotlight on Tibet as the lingering core issue. Even though Tibet has ceased to be the political buffer between India and China, it needs to become the political bridge between the world’s two most-populous countries. For that to happen, Beijing has to begin a process of reconciliation and healing in Tibet.

Internationally, there are several factors contributing to China’s greater assertiveness toward India as part of an apparent strategy to prevent the rise of a peer rival in Asia. First, India’s growing strategic ties with the United States are more than offset by America’s own rising interdependence with China, to the extent that U.S. policy now gives Beijing a pass on its human-rights abuses, frenetic military buildup at home and reckless strategic opportunism abroad. America’s Asia policy is no longer guided by an overarching geopolitical framework as it had been under President George W. Bush, a fact reflected by the Obama administration’s silence on the China-India border tensions.

In addition, the significant improvement in China’s own relations with Taiwan and Japan since last year has given Beijing more space against India. A third factor is the weakening of China’s Pakistan card against India. Pakistan’s descent into chaos has robbed China of its premier surrogate instrument against India, necessitating the exercise of direct pressure.

Against this background, India can expect no respite from Chinese pressure. Whether Beijing actually sets out to teach India “the final lesson” by launching a 1962-style surprise war will depend on several calculations, including India’s defense preparedness to repel such an attack, domestic factors within China and the availability of a propitious international timing of the type the Cuban missile crisis provided 47 years ago. But if India is not to be caught napping again, it has to inject greater realism into its China policy by shedding self-deluding shibboleths, shoring up its deterrent capabilities and putting premium on leveraged diplomacy.

Brahma Chellaney is professor of strategic studies at the privately funded Center for Policy Research in New Delhi.