Keeping cool in times of terror…

Harish Khare

Last Monday, terrorists struck again. This time in Gurdaspur district of Punjab. All three of them were killed, but not before they had managed to kill five Indian citizens. The Punjab Police has come in for considerable appreciation for its clinical elimination of the terrorists. The accolade is well deserved. Security experts and strategy analysts are debating the nature of the whole business. The debate will go on for some time.

However, what stands out about Monday’s strike is the remarkable response of the people of Punjab. There was no sense of panic, no sense of fear. Instead, there was a detached calmness. A reassuring sense of collectedness, as if Punjab had taken the whole bloody encounter in its stride. 

This was the first major terror strike since we have had the new government in New Delhi. The people in Delhi — at least those who matter — kept their wits about them. The country has come a long way since Mumbai, circa 2008. A few lessons have been learnt, especially about the role of television cameras in complicating the security officials’ task. The government did well to issue an “advisory” to the channels to behave. Equally satisfyingly, the channels did behave. 

The political context too is favourable in Punjab. Since the BJP is a coalition partner, it had no reason to ratchet things up. Another day and another government, it would have merrily dipped into its bag of familiar accusations — “a breach of the security”, “intelligence failure”, etc. And, the fact that an attack had taken place was as much a reflection on the efficacy of the Modi government, as on the Punjab Police. The Akalis too were prudent enough to keep their voice low.

The primary purpose of those who use terror as an instrument of state policy is psychological: to undermine the citizens’ morale and confidence in their own lawful government. The strategy of terror depends on the propensity of the mass media to dramatise the use of violence, to create an impact way beyond the scene of their strike. The long-term objective is to create animosities and prejudices. Violence creates its own narrative of victims and heroes. Terror violence spawns a heady, almost obsessive desire for retribution and revenge. The terrorist banks on that response.

In his fascinating book, Ghost Wars, Steve Coll, one of the finest chroniclers of the secret world of terrorists, gives a glimpse of the debate among counter-terror experts and policy-makers. Should terror be treated as just another law and order problem or as a qualitatively different kind of assault on the sovereignty and integrity of the State? Coll quotes a highly-respected American analyst, Brian Jenkins: “Terrorists want a lot of people watching and a lot of people listening and not a lot of people dead.” Jenkins became famous for the much-quoted phrase: “Terrorism is theater.” 

The people of Punjab demonstrated a remarkable maturity over the Gurdaspur breach. After all, they are no stranger to the whole genre of “militants”. The entire region has suffered in the past due to some people’s fascination with the AK-47. They also set an example to the politicians and policemen who are otherwise prone to taking advantage of our neighbour’s malevolent designs. 

Abdul Kalam was an accidental President. He became the Head of our Republic because Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee changed his mind about having PC Alexander as the President in 2002. And, Vajpayee had good reason to change his mind.

Alexander has put down his side of the story in that painful memoir, Through the Corridors of Power — An Insider’s Story. It is a bitter lament as to how he was done out of the highest office in the land. 

On the second page of his biography, Alexander cites my report (published in The Hindu, June 11, 2002) to express surprise that the Congress party was opposed to his candidature.

The inspired thinking — in and out of the NDA — was that if Alexander (a Christian) was to get elevated to Rashtrapati Bhavan, it would have knocked out Sonia Gandhi’s prime ministerial pretensions. Alexander himself mentions that some sections did subscribe to this view. Those were the days of petty men making petty calculations.

Vajpayee and his principal counsellor Brajesh Mishra had begun to develop second thoughts about Alexander as President because the candidature was being plugged in by the Advani-Pramod Mahajan faction of the BJP. This was also the time when the Prime Minister was already getting hot under the collar because the party bosses were not letting him undertake the requisite course correction in Gujarat.

As a senior political journalist at that time, I was part of a public argument and private conversation against Alexander’s candidature. There was a bit of a parallel with the 1969 episode when the party bosses had pitched for a presidential candidate (Neelam Sanjiva Reddy) against the preference of the Prime Minister (Indira Gandhi). In both cases, the design perhaps was to convert Rashtrapati Bhavan into a parallel centre of power — to the disadvantage of the Prime Minister of the day. Once the Vajpayee crowd became convinced that Alexander would not do, an alternative had to be found. 

It was at this stage that the Samajwadi Party proposed Abdul Kalam’s name. He suited everyone’s calculations. Even the Congress party found itself constrained to go along with his candidature. Strangely enough, there are very many people who claim the authorship of the Kalam-as-President idea. That is India, for you. 

This week, a friend, AS Dulat, was in town. He was here to showcase his book, Kashmir: The Vajpayee Years. There was a book launch function at the UT Guest House. I was happy to be asked to preside over the event. Pleasantly, over two hundred people had turned up. It was an impressive turnout for a city of Chandigarh’s size. Chandigarh’s reputation of being a city of intelligent, educated and cultured people was certainly re-confirmed. 

I was touched by Dulat’s recollection of growing up in Chandigarh as a young man, falling in love and remaining engaged with the city even after moving on to important job assignments in New Delhi and other places. It was indeed nice to hear Dulat acknowledge his wife’s role in his professional journey.

In my brief remarks at the function, I saluted Dulat as being one of the finest public servants India has produced in the last four decades. It is officials like Dulat who have provided a continuity and coherence in our national affairs, despite the cantankerous politicians and their highly divisive politics. As a nation, we remain ungrateful to such officials who show tenacity, determination, dedication and imagination in having the political class sort out complex problems. 

In response to “Two old foxes show the paces…” last week, a reader, Paras Kalotra from Mohali, has written about a poem from Aesop’s fable titled A Fox at the Point of Death. 

He says that the story of the fox goes like this: “An old, sick male fox is dying. His young generation eagerly surrounds him to hear his last piece of advice. Addressing his scions, he says: ‘Look here! I have committed so many sins by killing fowls in my young age. Now, the spirits of those fowls are scratching me badly. It is a very painful experience. To escape this torture, you should stop killing and eating the fowls.’ As the old fox was half-way into his sermon, a fowl flew over their head, making a crackling sound. The dying fox at once rose up and said: ‘What a tasty fowl is flying over us. Can you catch it for me? I have been feeling very hungry for a couple of days.’ The young foxes at once understood his double standard. They left the old fox alone to die.” 

So, our old leaders must understand that they are dealing with the new generation of the 21st century who are more capable than the old guys.

A sobering fable. Cynical? Or, just a dose of reality?

Coffee’s brewing. Any takers?

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