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    Tokyo Olympics: A Game-changer in Japan’s Looming Election Season? July 01, 2021 Titli Basu

    Political winds are blowing in Japan as two key elections are approaching—the Liberal Democratic Party's (LDP) presidential election in September and the Lower House election as its term ends in October. It would be interesting to see how Prime Minister Suga Yoshihide's political future shapes up as he navigates the domestic politics—balancing public health during a pandemic and the Olympics dream on the one hand, and the inoculation drive and economic recovery on the other. What will be the most immediate decisive issues as Japan heads for a snap election, most likely in September? How are the factional alignments taking shape within the ruling LDP? And, how the kingmakers within the party are positioning themselves?

    Prime Minister Suga stepped into office in September 2020 following his predecessor Abe Shinzo’s sudden decision to depart from Kantei owing to health issues. Assuming the responsibility of life and livelihood of people in the middle of a raging global pandemic, especially with an impending election the following year, was certainly not an enviable position. In his maiden policy speech at the Diet in October 2020, Prime Minister Suga categorically stated that one of his top priorities is to host a successful Olympics to demonstrate victory over the COVID-19 pandemic.1 While he started on a high note with an over 70 per cent approval rating last year, public confidence in his administration has gone down with three states of emergency since then. As several prefectures in Japan come out of the third state of emergency and some remain in quasi-emergency on the heels of the Olympics, Suga’s political future hangs in balance with two key elections approaching. In the run-up to the Games and subsequently the elections, his public approval rating stands at 37 per cent in both the NHK2 and The Yomiuri Shimbun3 polls in June, 33 per cent in The Asahi Shimbun poll4 and 31 per cent in the Mainichi Shimbun-Social Survey Research Centre poll in May.5

    As Japan hosts the mega-sports event—Olympics (23 July–8 August) and Paralympics Games (24 August –5 September)—one of the crucial responsibilities of Prime Minister Suga would be to ensure that the nation’s much-touted “Recovery and Reconstruction Games” do not turn into a super spreader event. To this end, the inoculation drive has taken a new urgency. Suga has set out clear goals and aims to vaccinate all people above 65 years by the end of July. Japan has reached the goal of one million shots a day and has set up mass vaccination centres in Tokyo and Osaka managed by the Self-Defense Forces. With effective inoculation and a successful Olympics, Prime Minister Suga may be successful in winning public confidence in his administration before heading for elections.

    Timing the snap election is also an important decision. The ideal situation for Prime Minister Suga would be to call the snap election in September, after the Paralympics. On the one hand, this will give him a crucial two months to intensify his vaccination drive and secure public health, on the other hand a successful Olympic Games will boost Japan’s pride as the host nation and generate positive public sentiment; both the conditions are absolutely crucial for Suga’s success in securing a public mandate in favour of the LDP in the Lower House election. However, it is worth noting that not all the variables are in his control. How the Delta variant unleashes itself as 15,000 athletes and several thousand officials enter Japan during the Games will have a direct influence on the election outcome.

    The stakes are high as Japan has no way out of the Olympics; the cost and complexity of the Olympics contract outweigh opinion polls expressing public reservations in hosting the Games. A recent poll indicates that almost 86 per cent of those surveyed are worried about a possible surge in COVID-19 cases if the Games are hosted.  Moreover, Shigeru Omi, who leads the government panel on COVID-19 response, has also weighed in by arguing that it is “unusual” to host the games amid a pandemic. The Tokyo Medical Practitioners Association has urged the government to reconsider hosting the Games.  A few corporate leaders have also expressed their concerns, however, the decision on the Olympics is beyond the purview of Prime Minister Suga. The contract between the International Olympic Committee (IOC), the Tokyo Metropolitan Government and the Japanese Olympic Committee indicates that the decision on cancelling the Games solely lies with the IOC. Even though the IOC has the authority to cancel the Games in case there is “reasonable ground” to assess whether participants’ safety would be “seriously threatened or jeopardised”,6the financial stakes are enormous since it dispenses 90 per cent of its revenue to sports federations and national Olympic committees.  Billions of dollars signed in broadcasting rights further complicate the issue.

    The once-postponed Tokyo Games costs around US$ 15.4 billion,7 which is double the original estimation of US$ 7.3 billion when Japan won the bid in 2013. The one-year delay costed US$ 2.8 billion. Meanwhile, some media estimates suggest that the Olympics would cost about US$ 25 billion.8 Olympics was an opportunity for Japan to not only steer foreign tourism but also drive construction investments. However, the economy will have to absorb the dent in the tourism industry as the pandemic has forced Japan to restrict foreign spectators during the Games. An estimation by the Nomura Research Institute argued that while cancelling the Games would cost Japan around US$ 17 billion, the economic loss would be much greater in case a fresh state of emergency is imposed.9 

    Prime Minister Suga is therefore betting on rapid vaccination. However, Japan has been relatively behind the G7 powers with just 9.2 per cent of the population fully vaccinated and 11 per cent partially vaccinated (till 24 June 2021), compared to 48 per cent fully vaccinated in the United Kingdom, 45.50 per cent in the United States, 35 per cent in Germany, 29 per cent in Italy and 26 per cent in Canada.10 This is essentially because of the additional domestic trials and the two-step approval, initially by Japan’s Pharmaceutical and Medical Devices Agency (PMDA) and followed by the panel of experts in the health ministry, delayed the rollout by a couple of months.11 In addition to this, Japanese have displayed low confidence in vaccines, drawing from its previous experiences.12 However, on the heels of the Olympics, the inoculation drive has gained momentum.

    Since a snap election is expected to follow the Olympics, LDP’s factional politics is likely to come into play. Even though Prime Minister Suga has not been affiliated with any faction, in the September 2020 elections, he managed to secure support from five of the seven key LDP factions. So, what has changed since then? Suga’s key contenders last year, both former Foreign Minister Kishida Fumio’s and former Defence Minister Ishiba Shigeru’s position has eroded. Kishida’s standing has been diluted following the outcome of the Upper House by-election in Hiroshima and Ishiba’s position is shaky with a few members leaving his faction. But, going into the party presidential election this time, Suga also has to factor in the reality that, unlike last time, rank-and-file members will be a part of the process.

    In the snap election, the kingmakers in the LDP, including former Prime Minister Abe Shinzo, Deputy Prime Minister Aso Taro and Secretary-General Nikai Toshihiro, will throw their weight behind Prime Minister Suga to avoid any mixed messaging to the public, and consolidate a two-third majority in the Lower House election. But how the factional politics take shape in the party presidential election remains to be seen. An ideal situation for Suga will be to secure a victory for the LDP in the crucial Lower House election, which will further secure his position as the party president. Meanwhile, it is important to keep an eye on how Abe is positioning himself back into the game. While he supports Suga, he has also indicated a preference for Foreign Minister Toshimitsu Motegi, Chief Cabinet Secretary Katsunobu Kato, Policy Research Chief Hakubun Shimomura and former Foreign Minister Kishida as Suga’s successor.13 Furthermore, media polls have floated predictable names including that of Minister for Administrative Affairs Kono Taro, Environment Minister Koizumi Shinjiro, and former Defence Minister Ishiba as topping the charts. But the LDP election is about manoeuvring factional politics rather than popular support.

    As Suga heads for two key elections, he has made a mark with his digitalisation and decarbonisation drive in domestic politics and demonstration of Japan’s leadership in global platforms, be it the G7 summit or the Quad. He has also ensured that he is the first foreign leader to be hosted by President Joseph Biden following the change of guard in Washington. As he seeks public mandate with just one year’s report card amidst a pandemic, Suga’s political future is contingent on rapid inoculation and a successful Olympics.

    Views expressed are of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Manohar Parrikar IDSA or of the Government of India.

    East Asia Japan, Elections, Olympics system/files/thumb_image/2015/tokyo-olympics-t.jpg
    Attack on Mohamed Nasheed and Challenges Ahead for the Maldives July 01, 2021 Gulbin Sultana

    Summary: The attack on Mohamed Nasheed has exposed Maldives’ vulnerability to acts of terrorism. Developments following the attack point to the operational and political challenges for the government in tackling national security threats. The biggest test for President Solih is to overcome these challenges and address the concerns of the liberal Maldivians who doubt the government’s ability to bring the perpetrators to justice.

    The growing radicalism, violent extremism and terrorism in the Maldives is a matter of serious concern. While the Ibrahim Mohamed Solih administration has initiated institutional and legal reforms to tackle these national security threats since it came into power in 2018, the recent attack on the Speaker of Majlis and former President Mohamed Nasheed on 6 May 2021 in Male, has been an eye-opener and indicates that much more is required to be done.

    The first recorded Islamist militant attack in the Maldives took place at Sultan Park in Male in September 2007. Ever since, the Maldives has been vulnerable to terrorism. In 2017, a plot to blow up an airplane was orchestrated by a Maldivian member of the Islamic State (IS) in Syria,1 but the attempt was foiled by the local authorities working with “five biggest countries in the world.”2 In April 2020 as well, the IS claimed responsibility for launching an attack and destroying seven vessels including a sea ambulance in Alifu Dhaalu Atoll on Mahibadhoo Island.3 The boats were destroyed using “incendiary bombs.”4

    The 6 May terrorist attack was a remote-controlled explosion, in which an improvised explosive device (IED) was used, which caused life threatening injuries to Mohamed Nasheed. Several members of his security and some bystanders were also injured. Soon after the attack, it was confirmed by the police that it was a “deliberate act of terror” targeting Nasheed.5 According to the Chief of Defence Force, Maldives National Defence Force (MNDF), powdered razor was used in the attack, which is often used in homemade explosives,6 and is considered to be much more dangerous than the explosive used in the 2007 Sultan Park attack. 

    Attack by Radical Islamists?

    Although no one has claimed responsibility for the 6 May attack, it is suspected that radical Islamists were behind the attack. Radicalisation began in the Maldives in late 1970s, and the political use of Islam over the years has further pushed the Maldivian society towards radicalism and violent extremism.

    As per the reports, foreign-returned jihadis, who fought for the global terrorist groups in other countries, are freely preaching jihadi ideologies in the country. It has been observed that under the influence of social media too, several Maldivians got attracted to the ideology of global Islamist terrorist groups. The police revealed in December 2019 that 423 Maldivians attempted to join the IS in Iraq and Syria, of which 173 managed to enter the war zone.7 

    It is worth mentioning that until 2019, there was no provision under the Prevention of Terrorism Act 1990 (PTA) to arrest those who returned after fighting for terrorist groups in foreign countries. In September 2019, the Solih government designated 17 terrorist organisations under the PTA.8 The amendments made to the Act in 2019 led to an arrest as well, yet many of those showing allegiance to the IS and other global jihadi groups are still roaming freely in the Maldives. The country is, therefore, extremely susceptible to terrorist attacks. Reportedly, on 20 April 2020, the IS in its Voice of Hind magazine called on the Maldivians to join jihad and launch extremist acts in the Maldives (and India).9

    The radicalised elements in the Maldivian society have shown extreme intolerance for those holding secular and liberal ideas and consider them un-Islamic. As a result, several journalists and activists have lost their lives in the hands of violent extremists.10

    Mohamed Nasheed too has been extremely vocal against the jihadi and radical elements in the Maldives, and is therefore considered un-Islamic and is heavily criticised by the radicals for his secular approach. Since no one has claimed responsibility for the 6 May attack, a definitive conclusion cannot be drawn whether it was an attack by the IS supporters or other local radical groups, or an assassination attempt by his political opponents, who perceive Nasheed as a potential threat to their political interests. It should be noted here that just a few hours before the attack, Nasheed revealed in the social media that he had obtained the full lists of people who benefitted from the misappropriation of fund from the state-owned tourism firm, the Maldives Marketing and Public Relations Corporation, during 2014-15. So far, five people have been arrested and around 200 people questioned in connection with this attack.

    Government’s Response

    President Solih and his cabinet members condemned the attack in the strongest terms and expressed commitment to deal with the matter with utmost seriousness.11 The government has responded with immediate action, which includes taking prompt precautionary measures to ensure the safety and security of the people of the Maldives following the attack; bringing out changes in the Special Protection Group responsible for Mohamed Nasheed’s security; and an instruction to the Attorney General to amend necessary laws to strengthen the security and protection provided to the Speaker of Parliament and the Chief Justice of the Maldives, including the designation of their official residences.12

    While the police along with the MNDF has initiated countrywide counter-terrorism operations, the President has also sought help from the Australian Federal Police and the United Kingdom (UK) to assist the Maldivian police in the investigation.13 Abbas Faiz, the British human rights expert, has been appointed as a special envoy to monitor the investigation, prosecution, and trial of the alleged perpetrators, ensuring compliance with international best practices and national laws. The special envoy’s oversight of the ongoing investigation will be conducted within the parameters set by the Prosecutor General.14

    President Solih has also formed a four-member committee consisting of members of the President’s Office and the Attorney General’s Office to conduct an intelligence audit on the Maldives Police Service (MPS) and the MNDF with regard to the failure to detect the terrorist plot, and make necessary changes to prevent such an incident. The efforts of the committee are being supervised by the National Security Advisor’s office.15

    A parliamentary inquiry committee has also been set up to identify any security breach that led to the attack. The committee is summoning the state officials and ministers as well as members of parliament for the investigations.16 Further, the government has introduced a bill in the parliament to amend the Maldives Penal Code to criminalise hate speech and hate crimes.17

    Challenges Ahead

    President Solih and his administration seem to be committed to tackle the triple challenges of radicalism, violent extremism and terrorism. However, it is too early to assess the efficacy of the measures as the investigation is still going on and the process of bringing reforms in the system is in the early stages. At the same time, the issues confronting the government while responding to the terrorist attack make it amply clear that the road ahead will not be a smooth one.

    Operational Challenges

    After coming to power, the Solih administration initiated a “whole-of-government” and “whole-of-society” approach, and planned to formulate a national action plan to share information and intelligence on radical and extremist activities among the relevant stakeholder institutions by the end of 2020. However, no significant progress has been achieved in this regard. While the security forces, police, the concerned ministries, and policymakers are committed to addressing the issues of violent extremism and terrorism, there is an evident lack of coordination among them. The National Counter Terrorism Centre (NCTC), which is meant to facilitate and coordinate with these agencies, does not seem to be working too well as the interactions among these agencies are limited. Moreover, there is no single agency entrusted with the execution of the outcomes emanating from these interactions coordinated by the NCTC.

    As per a media report, the Defence Minister had prior information of a plot to carry out an attack on Nasheed for a price of US$ 3 million.18 The police, on the other hand, said that it did not have any prior information on a possible attack from the police intelligence.19 This clearly indicates a communication gap between the two security agencies.

    Several other issues cropped up when the investigation on the 6 May attack was initiated and the individual security officials of the MNDF were summoned by the parliamentary investigation committee. In a press conference, the Chief of Defence Force, MNDF, Abdulla Shamaal, expressed his disappointment at the investigation team summoning the individual officers and breaking the “chain of command”.20 He stated that individual officials are responsible to the Chief, and the Chief is responsible to the Defence Minister. It is, therefore, the Defence Minister who is answerable to the President and the Parliament.

    Nasheed, who is in Germany for treatment, criticised the MNDF chief for expressing such concerns and in a message sent to his party, the Maldivian Democratic Party (MDP), implied that President Solih was behind MNDF’s stand on parliamentary committee questioning the individual officers. He further criticised the Solih government for concealing information related to the attack and influencing the parliamentary investigation.21

    Political Challenges

    Nasheed raising doubt on President Solih, who is a friend and fellow party member, is a matter of concern, but not totally unexpected. Both the leaders have grown apart in the last few months on several issues of national concern. Nasheed has been disappointed with President Solih for not expediting the cases of assassination of journalists allegedly by the radical Islamist groups. Also, Nasheed is a strong supporter of the parliamentary system and expected President Solih to lead a discussion on changing the current presidential system to a parliamentary one. However, the coalition partners of the Solih government— Jumhooree Party (JP), Adhaalath Party (AP), and Maumoon Abdul Gayoom’s Maldives Reform Movement (MRM)—are opposed to this idea. President Solih’s stance on the matter is that the current system of governance had been chosen by Maldivian citizens and that it could only be changed by the will of the citizens.

    As per a media report, President Solih said that he would like to concentrate on fulfilling the election vows rather than contemplating changing the governance system.22 Nasheed too had made a statement in the parliament in October 2020, that though he wanted to see the change in the governance system, the time is not apt to debate on the issue considering the COVID-19 challenges being faced by the country.23 Nonetheless, on April 18, 2021, Nasheed sent a text message to President Solih and asked him to dissolve the government and cancel the presidential election due in 2023, and change the system into a parliamentary one. He also suggested bringing about the changes in February 2023, and allowing the parliament to run the country until the next parliamentary elections in 2024. In his message, he also communicated that he no longer wishes to be on the sidelines and expressed his desire to become Prime Minister.24 President Solih, however, refused to take any decision on the same, and said that changes can be brought in only by the people’s votes and that he is not contemplating conducting such an exercise at this point.25

    The differences between the two leaders led to a division within the party. Such intra-party differences can certainly emerge as a challenge in bringing reforms to address the issues of terrorism and violent extremism, even though the ruling party enjoys an absolute majority in the parliament.

    Coalition partners can also emerge as a possible challenge; AP, known for its Islamic ideology, is one of the coalition partners of the Solih government, which has opposed the bill to amend the Maldives Penal Code. AP says that the “offences mentioned in the bill do not adhere to the international conditions required in deciding the offences that would lead to hatred.”26 AP expressed its concerns that one of the rightful duties of Muslims, which is to call on to do right things and stop individuals from doing wrong things, would be considered a criminal offence in the Maldives, if the amendments to the Maldives Penal Code come in force.

    Since democracy was introduced in the Maldives in 2008, differences among the coalition partners, as well as the split of Progressive Party of Maldives (PPM) has caused instability in the country. All the political parties who had supported Mohamed Nasheed in the 2008 elections withdrew their support by 2012 and joined hands with the then opposition party to disempower Nasheed. After President Abdulla Yameen came into power, his party witnessed a split when his brother and former President Maumoon Abdul Gayoom and his loyalists within the party withdrew their support. Subsequently, other coalition partners of the Yameen government too withdrew their support and joined hands with the MDP to defeat Yameen in the 2018 presidential election. With the support of three coalition partners (AP, JP and MRM), MDP candidate Ibrahim Mohamed Solih won the presidential election. However, all these parties did not form an electoral alliance for the 2019 parliamentary elections with the MDP. The MDP decided to contest alone and got 65 seats in the 87-member Parliament. MDP’s absolute majority in the parliament raised hope for political stability in the country after a long time.

    However, the differences emerging within the MDP, is not a positive sign. As of now, the coalition partners have not raised any serious issues with President Solih, but there is a concern over ministers from the coalition partners having lost their cabinet seats, in the name of a good governance drive by the MDP in the parliament. The issues within the MDP or among the coalition partners do not point to any immediate threat to political stability in the country. Nonetheless, the political developments do suggest that the government is walking on a tightrope. Any uncalculated action has the potential to engender a serious political challenge that can divert the government’s attention from real issues of national concern.

    Conclusion

    The liberal Maldivians doubt that even after a high profile terrorist attack such as the one on 6 May, the Solih administration will be able to bring perpetrators to justice or implement any serious measure to address the issue of radicalism, violent extremism and terrorism, as there would be constant interference from the religious leaders, preachers, political parties, and people who are embedded with extremist ideologies.27 If Solih fails to take any punitive action against the perpetrators of such a heinous crime, he will have to face the wrath of many within his party. A section within the MDP is already questioning President Solih’s leadership role following the party’s defeat in the Male local council elections in April this year. These are testing times for President Solih and it is to see how he overcomes the challenges.

    Views expressed are of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Manohar Parrikar IDSA or of the Government of India.

    South Asia Maldives, Terrorism, Radicalisation system/files/thumb_image/2015/nasheed-t_0.jpg
    The Concept of Active Defence in China's Military Strategy, by Amrita Jash April-June 2021 Gurpreet S Khurana

    The strategy articulated by Deng Xiaoping in 1990 as a guiding tenet of China's foreign policy was: “Observe calmly, secure our position, cope with affairs calmly, hide our capacities and bide our time, be good at maintaining a low profile, and never claim leadership 1”. Today, Beijing has clearly deviated from this tenet and under the garb of ‘striving for achievement’ (fen fa you wei), it has been increasing its politico-military assertiveness in the conduct of its international relations, particularly against its maritime and continental neighbours. One wonders why, since in its quest to reorder the established international system, China may be doing much harm to its own image as a responsible world power. The book under review aptly answers this conundrum. It says that a ‘low-profile’ approach may portray China as ‘too soft’, thereby seriously impairing its ‘core interests’, and particularly its national security against enemies, both within and without, thus jeopardising ‘regime survival’. Such approach would also be untenable as China's power grows, along with the nationalistic feelings amongst its citizens. 

    To understand the nuances of China's military strategy, and more specifically its concept of 'active defence', the book adopts a net assessment approach. It begins with a detailed examination of China's perception of its security environment, along with its overarching national strategic objectives, notably the fulfilment of the ‘Chinese Dream’ of building a well-off society and great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation, leading to its strategic approaches for national development and national security. It is refreshing to note that the author goes much beyond the more widely known aspects of Sun Tzu's teachings and connects the provisions of China's defence white papers on military strategy with its actions on ground, notably during the India–China military standoff in eastern Ladakh in mid-2020.

    While this assessment seems to be beset with no grave omissions, some questions remain unanswered. For instance, it remains unclear whether in its actions on ground across the India–China border, China has lately tended to avoid war altogether or has merely adopted Sun Tzu's dictum of ‘winning wars without fighting’. This may be seen in context of China's ‘new security concept’ (xin anquan guandian) articulated in the late 1990s, which says that ‘force cannot fundamentally resolve disputes and conflicts…(and) the use of force and the threat to use force can hardly bring about lasting peace’2. This policy shift essentially dictates that China should resolve disputes with other countries through soft power—including diplomacy and charm offensive (meili gongshi)—to find accommodation in their respective positions, thereby arriving at 'win-win' solutions. Therefore, is China's 'salami slicing' tactic meant to avoid war or does it represent a more malicious form of war combined with psychological operations and lawfare? One may even question if China's actions against India across the India–China border were in consonance with its 'new security concept', but then it always takes two to tango! 

    The Chinese conceptualisation of 'active defence' is subject to diversely disputed interpretations and views worldwide. The concept may have been valid in the 1980s when the strategic direction of Mao Zedong called for ‘...luring the enemy deep and the use of mobile warfare (against it)...’ (p. 78), but its applicability in the present times remains ambiguous. The Chinese leaders' endeavour to rename the concept to ‘active defence strategy under new historic conditions’(p. 78) does little to dissipate the fog.

    The book aptly cites the 2020 United States (US) Department of Defense (DoD) report reflecting the predominant view among military professionals. It says that ‘active defence’ draws from China’s military doctrine of offensive action at operational and tactical levels, while retaining a defensive posture at the strategic level. However, strategic defence is not specific to China, which is why the military forces of most countries across the globe are called 'defence forces'. Even the United Nations (UN) Charter permits a nation the right of individual and collective self-defence (Article 51) at the strategic level, whereby international law of armed conflicts confers upon it belligerent rights under the principle of jus ad bellum. So, how is the concept of 'active defence' unique to China? Furthermore, some military powers across the globe, notably the US, even interpret Article 51 of the UN Charter as a right to undertake 'pre-emptive' self-defence. In this context, where does China's 'active defence' stand? Will Beijing adhere to the policy articulated in its 2008 Defence White Paper3, which talks about China ‘...striking the enemy only after the enemy has started an attack’? Both the aforementioned US DoD report and the author of this book do not believe so.

    Not claiming to hold all answers, the book only attempts to advance the debate, which may continue for a while. The applicability of China's 'active defence' doctrine is yet unclear in terms of the quantum of force and the time of its application, but it possibly applies more clearly in spatial terms. It mandates the neutralisation of a military threat well outside China's national periphery; and thereby translates into the need for ‘strategic depth’ beyond—rather than within—Chinese sovereign territory. Beijing has never precisely defined the measure of such ‘depth’, possibly since such distance would be enhanced progressively in tandem with China's military power projection capabilities. The growing Chinese naval footprint in the Indian Ocean is germane in this context. It brings to the fore the essence of the distant maritime warfare for China. The book thus aptly examines China's naval doctrines and capabilities, along with those relating to space and cyberspace, all of which are now increasingly feeding into China's military strategy.

    The analysis in the book is based on a very sound understanding of basic concepts of statecraft, notably national interest and objectives, the constituents of national strategy and the various elements of national power that contribute to the formulation of such strategy. The Chinese perception of strategy (zhanlue) differs much vis-à-vis Western thinking, and the author does well by basing the study on the understanding of this core fact. Since Sun Tzu’s Art of War—the oldest treatise on military operational art—Chinese military strategy has developed in insular environs. This has led to a wide difference between the Chinese military forces and the military forces of other major powers, not only in terms of fundamental doctrinal nomenclature and concepts but also in terms of strategy formulation. The doctrinal variance is best exemplified by the differences in two strategy board games—the Chinese ‘Weichi’ and the Western ‘Chess’—which explains how the Chinese think vis-à-vis their counterparts in the West. In ‘Chess’, the player aims to checkmate the opponent’s king through a single decisive encounter. ‘Weichi’, on the contrary, is essentially an ‘encirclement game’ involving multiple battles over a wide front, where the objective is to fully surround a larger total area of the board than the opponent. Clearly, the Chinese ‘Weichi’ is oriented towards fighting a land campaign, thereby—unlike the Western ‘Chess’—entailing capture of territory. ‘Chess’, on the other hand, is more akin to a naval campaign, which usually does not entail holding of territory.

    Another difference between Chinese and Western operational thought lies in the subtle nuances of ‘operational manoeuvre’. Although ‘manoeuvre’ is the cornerstone of Sun Tzu’s treatise, and also essential in the Chinese game of ‘Weichi’, its relevance is confined only to the initial part of the campaign to avoid the strength of the adversary. In the Chinese operational thought, decisive victory is achieved at a later stage only through ‘attrition’. In contrast, in Western doctrine, as exemplified by the ‘Chess’ game, ‘manoeuvre’ is critical for the entire length of the campaign, particularly since the operational objective would not usually involve capture of territory. This variance possibly emanates from the historical–cultural divergence between China and the West. Whereas the Western military forces, having learnt lessons from their ‘bloody’ histories, seek to avoid ‘attrition’ of own forces at all costs, China perceives its strength to lie in numbers—in terms of both platforms and human resource—and thus its ability to absorb ‘attrition’ of own forces. 

    The book also examines other aspects closely linked to China's military strategy, notably its defence industrial complex, defence management and defence budget. The analysis in the book is based on diverse and credible sources—much of these references being Mandarin Chinese—which make it an authentic and credible assessment. In addition to the evolving Chinese military strategic thinking, the book also attempts to answer some key questions of immense relevance today with regard to China as a neighbour, as well as China as a major global power. How will China behave with its maritime and land neighbours? How will it contribute to international peace and stability as a great power? Or more generally, as the author says, ‘What entails China's rise?’ The findings of the book are, therefore, valuable for statesmen, professionals and analysts alike, not only in the countries neighbouring China but of the entire Indo-Pacific region and beyond.

    Military Affairs Military Strategy, China
    Countering Islamic State Ideology: Voices of Singapore Scholars edited by Muhammad Haniff Hassan and Rohan Gunaratna, with a Foreword by Karen Armstrong April-June 2021 Adil Rasheed

    People often complain that Islamic scholars do little more than condemn the inhuman acts of so-called jihadist groups and fall short of delivering strong, incontrovertible rebuttals against the vicious narratives of terrorist groups, like Al-Qaeda and the Islamic State (IS). It has also been stated that the ever-rearing Hydra-like heads of terrorism will have to be endlessly severed until genuine Islamic scholarship drains the very swamp of irreligious radicalism from which the monstrosity continually raises new and ugly distortions.

    Conversely, there is also the view that even the incipient work done by Islamic scholars across the globe against radical indoctrination has still not received due recognition and coverage in the global media. Even countries running major counter-radicalisation campaigns around the world—who have initiated community outreach programmes, legislative and prison reforms, even disengagement and rehabilitation measures—have largely refrained from launching major counter-narrative campaigns. Thus, the very source of radicalism, namely, the virulent extremist message, has mostly gone unchallenged in what is essentially a major ideological war of the twenty-first century.

    Setting this anomaly right to a great extent is the singularly exceptional ‘Singapore model’. With its path-breaking institutions of Islamic scholarship, mainly the Singapore Islamic Scholars and Religious Teachers Association (Pergas), the Lion City has clearly taken the lead in religiously discrediting the ideological vermin of jihadist indoctrination and propaganda. The most recent of its delectable fruits is the book, Countering Islamic State Ideology: Voices of Singapore Scholars, which delivers religious counterpoints to the main conceptual themes of the IS in order to stop young, impressionable minds from joining the IS and other jihadist groups.

    In this edited volume, teaming up with counter-radicalisation experts, Islamic scholars (asatizah in Arabic) from Singapore deliver withering rebuttals to most of the insidious arguments in the IS’ narrative structure. Edited by acclaimed counter-radicalisation analyst Professor Rohan Gunaratna and noted Islamic scholar Muhammad Haniff Hassan, the book takes an important step towards filling the lacuna in the field of counter-narratives, a sore spot poignantly noted in the introductory chapter: ‘The centre of gravity of the (jihadist) threat is ideological, the Achilles heel of the western-centric counter terrorism model.’

    The strength of these edited essays lies in its careful selection of IS’ narrative themes, written by accredited Islamic scholars and experts in that field, who are adept at dealing with strategic terminologies in the English language as comfortably as they deal with the minutiae of classical Islamic jurisprudence. Every chapter of this scholarly tour de force hones in on a particular catchphrase or distorted concept in the IS’ strategic meta-narrative, which is then meticulously deconstructed and is generally effectively invalidated by citing authentic references from Islamic scriptures and classical canonical literature (including the Quran, Ahadeeth, life of Prophet and other classical sources of Islamic jurisprudence). The 22 chapters of the book deal with almost all of the key IS’ propositions, including the false claim that militant jihad is fard al-ayn (mandatory injunction for all Muslims, whereas orthodox jurisprudence calls it fard al-kifayah—injunction of war declared by ruler only when facing existential threat); its methodology of takfeer (legitimising slaughter of people after declaring them infidels); its call to hijrah (the injunction to migrate to IS-held territories); its distortion of al wala al bara (religious ideal of ‘loyalty and disavowal’); justification of istishhad (suicide attack, which finds no precedent in Islamic history); misrepresentation of inghimas (self-immersion into enemy ranks); its untenable use of naskh (abrogation of Quranic verses related to peace and those forbidding indiscriminate violence); the revival of slavery (although Islam championed their freedom and made many of them kings); and many more.

    Opening the discourse here is Karen Armstrong, the celebrated British author on religion, who in her ‘Foreword’ enunciates the purpose of the book:

    IS is no more authentically Islamic than the Ku Klux Klan is genuinely Christian, but many Western people have come to believe that its policies are decisive proof that Islam is addicted to violence, even though leading Muslim authorities have deplored both its conduct and ideology in the strongest terms. This new book will further explore traditions and writings that will counter this misperception.

    At the outset, the book presents the key concepts of the IS’ ideology—its core beliefs, its creed, its stated goals, even its historical origins. This is an important first step because it can only deliver counter-narratives after first studying the terrorist narrative in depth. The book then launches its clinical analysis by launching its tirade against IS’ diabolic mobilisation campaign that depends heavily on its invocation to the youth to migrate to its territories against the laws of their states, the will of their parents and persuasion of their family members. In this essay, Muhammad Haniff Hassan is quite convincing in the way he discredits IS’ interpretation of the Islamic term hijrah (migration), which refers to the Prophet’s migration from Mecca to Madinah, but has been stolen by the IS’ for its siren-like call to migrate to its lands.

    The essay makes the pertinent argument that unlike IS, the Prophet never declared jihad as fard al-ayn even when he ruled Madinah. He did not exhort Muslims to migrate to his city-state even when two of the holiest sites in Islam—the Kaabah in Mecca and Al-Aqsa in Jerusalem—were not under his rule. The scholar then cites the well-known story of the Yemeni migrant Uwais Al Qarni in Hadeeth literature and asks why did the Prophet accord him the status of a Sahabi (companion), even though Uwais never met the Prophet, for he had to abort his migration to Madinah in order to tend to his blind and ailing mother. The story delivers a strong counter to the IS’ call to youngsters to pay no heed to the plea of parents and families, whom they leave behind to migrate to the terror group’s territories.

    In another chapter, Muhammad Haniff Hassan and Mustazah Bahari de-mythify the ‘black flag’ imagery deviously appropriated by the IS. By exploiting esoteric references found in Hadeeth literature classified as dhaeef (belonging to a weak narrative chain that purportedly culminates to a statement by the Prophet), the IS purposely designed black flags for itself and then claimed that it is the prophesized army of Al Mahdi bearing ‘the black banners’. The Hadeeth literature in this prophecy is very vague in its details and speaks of a group bearing black flags emerging from Khurasan—the region covering north-eastern Iran, southern Turkeministan and northern Afghanistan (and not IS that has emerged out of the Levant)—in order to fight the evil forces of the mythical Dajjal (Anti-Christ) before the end of the world. The chapter also exposes IS’ other devious attempts at gaining credibility through vague eschatological misinterpretations, including its capture of the small and strategically irrelevant hamlet of Dabiq in the early years of its expansion in Syria, just because it is a supposedly prophesised site in an ambiguous Hadeeth reference about a battle that ushers in Armageddon (Al Malhama Al-Kubra).

    The controversial issue of abrogation of Quranic verses, particularly those extolling peace and setting restrictions on violence in times of war, such as prohibition against targeting of non-combatants (women, children, the elderly, the priestly class, cattle, crops, fruit-bearing trees, etc.), has also been effectively defended in this book. The proper understanding of the ‘Sword Verse’ (Quran’s Surah 9, Verse 5) in the context of the Treaty of Hudaybiyyah is recommended reading for both Muslims and non-Muslims, as this issue generally causes a lot of confusion regarding Islam’s defensive approach towards war. Similar erudition is on display in dispelling IS’ misrepresentation of the concept of al wala al bara (loyalty and disavowal) and the perversion behind its carrying out attacks in the blessed month of Ramadan.

    However, the most striking refutation from a strategic perspective comes in the essay that disproves IS’ dubious analogy of suicide bombing with a religious licence for inghimas. The essay clearly demonstrates how the analogy is classified by most Islamic jurists as a case of ‘al-qiyasma`a al-fariq’ (an analogy between two dissimilar things). The counter-argument demolishes the defence for suicide bombing by equating inghimas with modern commando operations, wherein there is always a chance for avoiding deaths and where such operations could be for the purpose of sabotage only. It clearly exposes IS’ deliberate attempt at confusing inghimas with suicide bombing operations (which IS itself terms differently as ‘amliyat al istishhadiyya’), which Islamic scholar deem as forbidden. Thus, the essay states:

    The impermissibility of suicide bombing arises not only from the immorality of the act itself, but also from the wickedness of killing civilians. This is in line with established legal maxims in Islamic jurisprudence that ‘al-wasaillaha ahkam al-maqasid’ (a means takes the same ruling of its objective [if the objective is impermissible, the means used to achieve it becomes impermissible too]) and ‘al-ghayah la tubarrir al-wasilah’ (an end does not justify the means). (p. 92)

    The book is replete with such hidden gems, and even new religious insights, that disprove IS’ justifications for barbarity and provide correct understanding of Islam to both Muslims and non-Muslims, ‘coupled with the promotion of moral and humane values’. The only issue here is that these counter-narratives appear too scholarly and may not appeal to the young and impressionable who are driven more by passionate and emotional intensity than by legal casuistry. The book has credibility because its authors are accredited Islamic scholars, but it lacks in Aristotelian ‘pathos’, which is considered more persuasive than either the ‘logos’ (the logical argument) or the ‘ethos’ (the credibility of the messenger). One wonders whether these counters could be turned into crisp, deliverable strategic messages across a variety of mediums—social media, websites, videos, public forums—and be incorporated in educational syllabi of seminaries. The leaves of this book need to fly in public discourse and should not be bookended by the many ignored volumes on a library shelf. In any case, this is one great academic accomplishment of immense value and merit.

    Counter Terrorism, Military Affairs Islamist, Radicalisation
    Lethal Autonomous Weapon Systems and the Legal Regime April-June 2021 Abhimanyu Singh

    Present-day world order marks a new dawn in the field of international law. The unusual pace and nature of technological advancements has resulted in the creation of a world where problem solving is leading to the creation of more complex problems. Development and deployment of lethal autonomous weapon systems (LAWS), on land, air, sea and space, generally gains momentum as a force multiplier. Military advantages are huge, but there are calls for ban on such systems from international humanitarian law (IHL) activists, which would be wishful thinking and an effort to snub the destined eventuality of future's technologically advanced weapon systems. The wiser option is to regulate this contingency before it snowballs, with disastrous outcome. The experts have just scratched the surface of the grave challenges posed by the operation of LAWS in the field of IHL. The issue is similar for LAWS in the maritime domain from a naval operational viewpoint. The general area of operations for warships is usually beyond territorial waters and within international domain. Complexities in application of maritime laws are further aggravated by operation of LAWS in maritime domain. Thus, seeking accountability in case of commission of unlawful acts alongside or in addition to the conventional weapons with LAWS is a vexed question in maritime or any other domain.

    INTRODUCTION

    The operation of lethal autonomous weapon systems (LAWS) in present-day world order has brought in complexities in the application of existing set of rules concerning international humanitarian laws (IHLs), such that the state of rules is like that which existed in pre- to mid-1800s, namely, non-existent. Robots and unmanned systems have been incredibly valuable on the battlefield during recent wars, including in Afghanistan and Iraq, and are likely to play a larger and more sophisticated role for militaries in the future. From 2000 onwards, the use of unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) has proliferated, with similar astounding increase among land and sea-based unmanned systems. In future, all branches of military are poised to rely more heavily on unmanned systems,1 also known as LAWS. The LAWS are autonomous military robots capable of searching and engaging targets in air, water or land, as per specifically programmed military needs. The potential deployment of LAWS raises significant legal and ethical concerns. These profound concerns in maritime domain, including whether such systems would even conform with the law of armed conflict (LOAC) and United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), have not yet been definitively resolved. The technology continues to race forward regardless; however, a need is felt for operational commanders to examine the command-and-control implications, in consonance with the legal implications, of using such LAWS. This would encourage the future development and doctrine of unmanned systems, as also steer it on to the correct path.2

    Naval application of LAWS in the maritime domain is further complicated. Historically, in the maritime domain, the practice of freedom of navigation was followed by mariners universally as per the applicable maritime laws and traditions. However, there was an absence of a legal doctrine concerning the status of sea, or a legal code about the rights of men. As regards naval operations, for most of the nineteenth century, sailors and diplomats in distant waters had no promising means of consulting with the sovereign and were practising and shaping international law with a handicap. At times, commanders had to combine naval force with diplomacy in dealing with the various issues. Later, with the advent of worldwide communication and technology, a naval officer’s wide latitude to determine foreign policy declined, but not necessarily his ability to affect war and peace in crisis situations at sea. This partnership has continued to this day, evident in the variety of conferences and conventions that followed World War II to regulate the legal regime concerning merchant ships, as also the warships during peacetime. The most prominent of these are: Convention on the Territorial Sea and the Contiguous Zone (1958); Convention on the High Seas (1958); Convention on Fishing and Conservation of the Living Resources of High Seas (1958); Convention on the Continental Shelf (1958); and UNCLOS (1982).3 

    The present-day technological advances, however, again pose a conundrum for a naval commander at sea. The likes of these issues only existed in the days when maritime practices were at a nascent stage and were being developed based on maritime traditions. The legal status of LAWS in the present day can be best described as unsettled. Although it does not pose an insurmountable problem in peacetime, it could prove to be a major impediment during war considering the LOAC.4 The LAWS would qualify as a means of warfare and though they may not be unlawful per se, the use will have to be in compliance with LOAC.

    Further, maritime coastlines are vast and resources are limited, thus posing significant challenges in the protection of marine resources. To monitor and respond to marine peacetime activities, nations need maritime capability. In this regard, unmanned maritime systems (UMSs) are useful. From a naval standpoint, being an autonomous system, the UMSs installed with weapons do form part of the LAWS as they have the capability to operate autonomously. These UMSs enhance the capabilities of defence and coast guard authorities, and their assets, to execute multiple tasks by providing low-cost resources, capable of operating over large areas for extended periods.

    The incident of the seizure of a United States (US) government-operated (USNS Bowditch) unmanned underwater vehicle (UUV), on 15 December 2016, by Chinese forces has highlighted the legal ambiguity surrounding the operations of such UMSs. The incident took place at about 50 nautical miles (nm) from the coast of the Philippines in the South China Sea (SCS) region.5 The legal basis for its actions were not clarified by the Chinese government, although statements referred to the ambiguity of the law surrounding the use and seizure of ‘drones’ as well as to repeated US ‘reconnaissance’ in Chinese waters as a basis for staking claim. Responding to this, the US government demanded the return of the device, which it stated had been ‘conducting routine operations in accordance with international law’ and which, it claimed, was a ‘sovereign immune vessel of the United States’.6 As regards the disputes arising out of the SCS, varied interpretations under international law have been applied by the People’s Republic of China (PRC) and the US. Accordingly, the seizure of a US Navy UUV by the PRC was also no exception. There is simply no plausible international legal basis for China’s actions and according to the US Department of Defense, the USNS Bowditch was conducting routine operations.7 

    Although the positioning of the UUV was within the Philippines exclusive economic zone (EEZ), China could have argued that the UUV operated by USNS Bowditch was within the EEZ limit as claimed by it across Scarborough Shoal. Therefore, China could have invoked the violation of its Surveying and Mapping Law concerning marine scientific research in Chinese EEZ. There are two issues which merit attention with regard to this incident. First, the disputed Chinese jurisdictional claim over the area of recovery of UUV. This should be seen in the light of multinational claims over Scarborough Shoal and the fact that 2016 SCS Arbitral Tribunal award declared Scarborough Shoal as rock, entitling China only to a territorial water and not an EEZ. Second issue is with regard the status of UUV. Till date, UUVs have not been defined under any bilateral, multilateral or international treaty or convention, thus making the status of UUVs ambiguous. However, the US has always accorded it a ‘sovereign immune craft’ status, as mentioned in the US Naval Commanders Handbook (2017 edition). Be that as it may, jurisdictional point concerning the area of recovery aside, the status of vessel (UUV), due to lack of any recognised definition, has to be considered as per the national laws of the state operating it. Thereby, as the US presently claims it, in its own interpretation the UUV is to be considered as ‘sovereign immune craft’. Therefore, the Chinese action is further illegal as under Article 32 of UNCLOS, ‘“warships and other government ships operated for non-commercial purposes” retain their immunities under customary international law. This absolute sovereign immunity from seizure would be applicable even within China’s territorial waters.’8 Although the incident was resolved peacefully, the resolution is still surrounded by the legal issues relating to navigational rights and obligations of UMSs under the umbrella of the International Maritime Law. The possibility of use of UMSs has come of age and drawn widespread attention in the legal community with focus on its combat role.9 Use of UMSs for surveillance, intelligence and reconnaissance purposes is a preferred option of armed forces of many states.

    The growing use of UMSs needs wider attention in the legal spectrum,10 although there is low-pitch use of such systems at present in the maritime operational domain in comparison to the air and ground assets. However, future security operations in the maritime/naval warfare domain are likely to increase the use of UMSs at a fast pace. The likelihood of these systems expanding peacetime monitoring capability of naval forces is an accepted reality. In the peacetime operations context, UMSs could be deployed for counter-piracy, counter-drug and refugee operations, marine biological survey missions, as also for countering proliferation of weapons of mass destruction. During wartime, operational deployments are particularly promising with respect to improving maritime battlespace awareness/transparency and enhancing anti-access/area denial capabilities. Also, UMSs are likely to prove themselves vital in maintaining the security of fragile sea lanes of communication, during both peacetime and periods of armed conflict, upon which global economic prosperity depends.11 What necessitates immediate deliberation is the present-day laws vis-à-vis UMSs activities during international conflicts and their rights and obligations.12  

    UNCLOS AND LAWS

    The LAWS have been named differently in their different areas of operation. They, as perceived in maritime domain, broadly engulf UMSs and take on a larger role. The terminology UMSs includes inter alia ships, warships and weapons systems installed onboard such ships/warships. The issue of the legal status of UMSs has been debated in various academic circles. What needs to be seen is the status of such UMS as a ship and in case the definition could be extended to include it as a warship. Both are complex and, as mentioned earlier, somewhat unsettled issues. The US position in this context is interesting. Although it is a non-party to the UNCLOS, it is of the view that many of the provisions of UNCLOS reflect customary international law.13 The 2017 Commander’s Handbook on the Law of Naval Operations mentions UMSs as:

    Unmanned Surface Vehicles (USVs) are water craft that are either autonomous or remotely navigated and may be launched from the surface, subsurface, air or land. The anticipated stealth, mobility, flexibility of employment and network capabilities of USVs make them extremely valuable as force multipliers, particularly in the littoral environment. Missions envisioned for USVs include laying undersea sensor grids, antisubmarine warfare (ASW) prosecution, barrier operations, sustainment of carrier operating areas, mine countermeasures, intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance, bottom mapping and survey, and special operations support.14

    The UNCLOS, in Article 29, defines warship as:

    For the purposes of this Convention, ‘warship’ means a ship belonging to the armed forces of a State bearing the external marks distinguishing such ships of its nationality, under the command of an officer duly commissioned by the government of the State and whose name appears in the appropriate service list or its equivalent and manned by a crew which is under regular armed forces discipline.15

    This definition replicates the legal requirements set forth by 1907 Hague Convention (VII). Thus, to include UMSs under the ambit of Article 29 would be stretching the definition too far to interpret it as a warship.

    If UMSs are qualified as warships, they could become a part of the defence forces and marked appropriately. However, the notion of command by a commissioned officer would have to be stretched to include operations undertaken remotely. Moreover, as these systems are unmanned (or remotely manned), the requirement of it to be manned by a crew which is under regular military discipline would not let it qualify as a warship. In time, these principles may get diluted. However, in the present-day scenario, even if UMSs qualify as ships, it may not be appropriate to declare them as warship. Warship status under UNCLOS affords certain rights designed to safeguard the maritime domain.16 Ships authorised and on-government service, as clearly marked and identifiable, are also granted few of these rights, thereby placing them on a similar pedestal as a warship.

    No additional conditions are imposed under the UNCLOS, so there is no reason why a UMS cannot be duly authorised to exercise peacetime rights by a government as afforded to warships.17 Sovereign immunity of warships is recognised under UNCLOS regime. Similar rights and obligations are bestowed upon other vessels on government non-commercial service, thereby putting an embargo over the enforcement jurisdiction of other states over such ships.

    As regards the LOAC, the same has evolved throughout history to respond to changes in the means and methods of warfare.18 War has evolved dramatically and the existing laws are ill-equipped to deal with it.19 International laws must evolve once more to cover these new challenges, so as to protect mankind in times of conflict. There, thus, exists a need to highlight the deficiencies in the current law and propose reforms to bring humanitarian law in line with the realities of modern warfare.20

    During wartime, attack upon or by UMSs cannot be ruled out as they, in every sense of the meaning, meet the criteria for being a military target and thereby would be devoid of any sovereign immunity. The status of being a warship during an international armed conflict would entitle UMSs to exercise belligerent rights and, in that sense, they would be authorised to use force against enemy warships and take part in imposing effective naval blockade. Qualification as a warship authorises UMSs to take part in many of the wartime activities, despite the legal issues surrounding their status.

    MODERN WARFARE AND ACCOUNTABILITY

    The LAWS in other domains, like UMSs in maritime domain, are majorly devoid of human element. However, for the purpose of accountability, a human being is required in the chain of responsibility to enable enforcement of IHL. The vexed question is to seek accountability in case of an unlawful act due to replacement of conventional weapons with autonomous weapons. Thus, in this context, the accountability for operation of autonomous weapons may lie with the following.

    Weapons Operators

    In future weapons platforms, the human role envisaged is that of ‘human-in-the-loop’. Under human-in-the-loop mode, the system has the ability to autonomously suggest to the weapons operator the threat level, as also whether a target is to be engaged or not. Based on the suggestion of the artificial intelligence (AI)-based weapons system, the weapons operator has the final authority to engage or not to engage the target. The pace of technological advancements, however, may bring about an era of ‘human-out-of-the-loop’, wherein the AI-based weapons system may autonomously engage a target without human intervention. Therefore, for the purpose of accountability, as human-in-the-loop system envisages ‘veto control’ of a human being in the weapons platform, it is preferred. The fear in case of human-in-the-loop-system still persists due to the phenomenon of ‘automation bais’. Under this phenomenon, an operator, by virtue of his/her training, is inclined to exercise options as suggested by the AI system. Hence, though the system is operating on the basis of human-in-the-loop, there is no meaningful control being exercised by the operator. In such scenarios, the deficit of accountability has been qualified by many as more of a systemic than individual one.21

    Computer Programmers

    In case the weapon operators are not being held responsible for the actions of UMS due to system malfunction or software design flaws, a more sought-after option for fixing of accountability could shift to the engineers, computer programmers and designers responsible for creating the system in the first place.22 Such a liability structure would result in a paradigm shift from the earlier models adopted for accountability. The present system of near-zero liability being attributed to engineers, computer programmers and designers could be ascribed to the fact that all the weapons platforms are tested and inducted subject to clearance by respective national defence authorities. Thus, till date, the engineers, computer programmers and designers have been discharged of their liability upon clearance by competent national defence authorities. However, in the most likely scenario wherein future weapons systems would also have the ability to learn on their own, known as ‘machine learning’, the engineers, computer programmers and designers may be attributed liability for a product malfunction resulting in loss of life or otherwise. In an incident in March 2018 involving an Uber self-driving car, a crash led to the loss of a human life, further highlighting the importance of the issue of accountability.23 Though the incident led to fatality, it was legally settled out of court. However, the same cannot be the scenario in case of a malfunction by weapons system, as strict regulations seem to be the only way to ensure a framework with defined accountabilities, leading to a safer development of such systems.  

    Operational Commander

    Utilisation of LAWS, like any other weapons system in wartime, is expected to be as per the directions/instructions of the operational commander. To achieve victory in war, operational commanders plan to gain military advantage and in doing so, they are expected to be mindful of the collateral damage they might cause in achieving their goal. Accordingly, in future weapon systems like LAWS, it would be expected that the operational commander will set the threshold value of collateral damage to very low, so as to avoid destruction of civilian property and fatalities to the civilian populous. Provided that the operational commander has directed programming of autonomous weapon systems correctly, their use could be attributed to command responsibility as it concerns the responsibility of a commander for the people under his/her command. Due to the very nature of LAWS, wherein the ability to ‘identify and engage’—which was earlier being undertaken by a human—would now be undertaken by an AI-based system, the proposal for expanding the responsibility to operational commanders to encompass the actions undertaken by LAWS would be only prudent. As the limits on the LAWS during a conflict are expected to be within the domain of an operational commander, the responsibility also needs to be placed at higher levels for the purpose of accountability for the actions of LAWS.

    WEAPONS LAW

    Assessment of legality as regards weapons law vis-à-vis LAWS generally involves analysis of various aspects. Clear distinction of targets (legitimate or illegitimate) constitutes one of the major basis for assessment of legality for a weapons platform, in addition to its ability to inflict unnecessary sufferings. Furthermore, another scenario where the weapons law prohibits a weapon is in case a state possesses the weapon not permitted due to it being a party to a certain convention or agreement (bilateral/multilateral). Violation in any manner of the above-mentioned conditions constitutes a breach of the weapons law under the regime of IHL. Thus, the use of such a weapon would be in blatant violation of the principle of distinction as the inability to target specifically may lead to unwanted harm upon civilians and non-combatants, which is against intended use of any such weapons. The ability of a weapon to strike accurately, but with uncontrollable effects, is a contravention of principle of distinction, also known as principle of discrimination, and thus such a weapons system qualifies for a ban. The final aspect would be whether new weapons technology is prohibited under any agreement or treaty, thereby barring its use per se.

    Presently, there is no international treaty that bans the use of LAWS. However, certain organisations have voiced their concerns and are constantly prompting governments to adopt a pre-emptive prohibition policy. The need for a human control/intervention to prevent human loss of life and breach of LOAC is the fundamental basis for such calls for pre-emptive prohibition policy. Lack of international consensus for a policy over LAWS necessitates their assessment under the present regime of weapons and targeting laws. It is felt that to abide by the weapons law, at the stage of manufacturing and designing itself, there is a requirement to put an embargo on the capability of operating weapons which would result in unnecessary suffering or superfluous injuries.

    TARGETING LAW

    Law of targeting regulates the use of any weapons system in warfare. As in case of conventional weapon systems, LAWS are also expected to adhere to the targeting laws. One of the facets of targeting laws, the principle of distinction, demands that a weapons system is able to distinguish between combatant and non-combatant as a legitimate military target. Article 52(2) of the Additional Protocol I describes targets as: ‘limited to those objects which by their nature, location, purpose or use make an effective contribution to military action and whose total or partial destruction, capture or neutralization, in the circumstances ruling at the time, offers a definite military advantage.’24 Thus, military necessity means that weapons must be configured to apply only the requisite force to achieve a legitimate military objective to defeat enemy forces. Proportionality is yet another important principle under law of targeting. It deals with the quantum of force to be applied to a target to achieve a legitimate military advantage, with the least amount of collateral damage. Finally, necessary precautions must be taken when operating weapons based on the principles of necessity, proportionality and distinction. This also involves taking precautions in avoiding, and in any event minimising, incidental loss of civilian life, injury to civilians and damage to civilian objects.

    Under targeting law, there are no international treaties restricting certain legal uses of LAWS. It is presently opined that restriction on such systems could actually be a more viable alternative as opposed to a prohibition. Indeed, to persuade nations across the world for an all-out ban would be wishful thinking. Rather, a restrictive development (in compliance with IHL and LOAC rules) of such weapons technology would be preferred by the nations because having LAWS in their inventory is likely to change the outcome of war/conflict. As possessing LAWS would be relevant in projection of a state as a superpower in future—the way the nations projected in the past on possessing nuclear weapons—the states are only expected to outperform each other for possessing LAWS by any means possible. The principle of distinction places an obligation that the future weapons systems are capable of distinguishing between combatant and non-combatant. This principle also casts a duty upon LAWS for distinguishing a wounded combatant and not targeting him/her. Furthermore, as is often the case in modern warfare, the enemy does not always wear a uniform, making it difficult to determine who is a combatant. Military necessity, as it pertains to a weapons system, is intricately tied to distinction. The degree of expectations as well as responsibility on LAWS is very high as they are expected to pass the test under the principle of distinction. Under targeting laws, LAWS are expected to cause damage in proportion to the military advantage expected out of a target. Thus, for LAWS to be compliant of IHL, the way out is to prioritise the level of collateral damage expected out of the target.

    The continued integration of technology into warfare means that the speed of combat is becoming faster, outpacing the ability of human beings to accurately react in a timely manner. The tempo of warfare in future is bound to be at an amplified rate than the present pace. Indeed, LAWS would be programmed and expected to perform at such a high tempo to be relevant in future warfare. Human-in-the-loop system may become irrelevant in future as the pace of warfare can only be expected to be matched by LAWS. Finally, such system’s decision-making programme could be more logical than its human operator’s. Therefore, by way of instilling restrictions on machine learning capability of such systems at the development stage itself, weapons could be programmed to be compliant of laws concerning targeting.

    LAWS AND GROUP OF GOVERNMENTAL EXPERTS

    The ambiguity surrounding legal principles concerning LAWS had been taken note of by the international community and therefore, in 2013 Convention on Certain Conventional Weapons (CCW) meeting, it was decided by the chairperson and high contracting parties to convene an informal meeting of Group of Governmental Experts (GGE) on the issues concerning LAWS. Towards this end, meetings have been held since 2014 to evaluate various aspects, such as human–machine interaction, human responsibility, risk assessment and mitigation circumstances, in relation to LAWS. 

    Till 2019, the GGE on LAWS had addressed the above-stated issues and had arrived at the guiding principles for LAWS, wherein the use of potential technologies concerning LAWS is developed and conducted in accordance with present IHL norms. It was agreed upon by all that at the present juncture, the involvement of human judgement is essential for LAWS for compliance in accordance with IHL.25 However, till date, despite best efforts in this direction, no agreed-upon definition of LAWS has been formulated.

    MARTENS CLAUSE

    A Russian professor, Von Martens (1899 Russian delegation member to Hague Peace Conference), introduced a clause now named after him. Under Martens clause, which appeared in the Preamble of Hague Convention (II), 1899, it was mentioned that:

    Until a more complete code of the laws of war is issued, the High Contracting Parties think it right to declare that in cases not included in the Regulations adopted by them, populations and belligerents remain under the protection and empire of the principles of international law, as they result from the usages established between civilized nations, from the laws of humanity and the requirements of the public conscience.

    26

    The Martens clause has been referred to and reproduced in different forms over the years so as to provide a legal basis for general statements of humanitarian protection. Various international declarations and judgements have referred to it for providing a basis for regulating issues of IHL, which were unregulated in the past. In terms of LAWS, the same would appear to be relevant and a sound basis for regulating development of such weapons till any legal basis for regulating them is agreed upon by nations.

    THE WAY FORWARD

    It is not war but technology that has shaped warfare since the beginning of mankind. Wartime operations have had the most telling impact on technology by making it constantly evolve during war. Military innovation, throughout history, has been both the primary source of technology and primary driving factor impacting the warfare.

    The present-day warfare chivalry finds at its core a code of conduct that is held as the gold standard by the military elite. Jean Pictet, the most influential twentieth  century expert on the LOAC, noted that the institution of chivalry brought with it the recognition that in war, as in the game of chess, there should be rules and that one does not win by overturning the board. While a direct comparison between chess and warfare may well be somewhat away from reality, the underlying presumption that organised violence amounts to warfare only when it conforms to certain prescriptions is a fundamental aspect.27

    Naval warfare and warships have been the most sophisticated technological tools of warfare in human history. Advances in technology may change warfare, but it can never determine warfare, neither how it will be conducted nor how it will turn out.28 Thus comes the need to regulate (like any other facet of human life) the facet of modern warfare with effective legal machinery to make the modern warfare IHL compliant. 

    At higher academic and diplomatic levels, it needs to be examined how warfare has changed from that imagined by the drafters of the previous conventions and its impact in the present-day scenario. Advances in the modern warfare necessitate an urgent conceptual change in the laws concerning warfare as it may serve as a foundation for future legal reform.

    Lieutenant Commander Abhimanyu Singh is working as Deputy Judge Advocate (Naval Operations) at Integrated Headquarters Ministry of Defence (Navy), Delhi.

    Disclaimer: The views expressed and suggestions made in the article are solely of the author in his personal capacity and do not have any official endorsement.

    Military Affairs
    Internal Security: A Psychological Approach by Major General Sanjay Bhide April-June 2021 Rajbala Rana

    In the larger national strategic discourse, identifying and prioritising the internal security issues and challenges is very crucial. India has been grappling with multiple ‘identity-centric’ and ‘grievance-driven’ challenges that have impacted its security and national fabric for more than seven decades now. While there is no gainsaying that the country has been largely successful in managing these conflicts well below the threshold levels, a durable peace—a prerequisite for national security and development—is as elusive as ever in most of these conflicts.

    India has followed a somewhat doctrinaire approach to deal with most of the pressing internal security threats. The state’s (both at the centre and in the state) response to these multifaceted challenges has been predominantly characterised by ‘ad hocism’ and an inclination towards ‘employing heavy kinetic force’ to mitigate or control the visible impact of violence (p. 43). Thus, addressing just a façade of the threat and largely ignoring the underlying socio-psychological undercurrents that are inherent to internal security threats has gradually resulted in making these threats more complex, persistent and challenging over the years. Besides, an in-depth understanding and analysis of the psychological factors that provide momentum to insurgencies and sustain them for longer periods, despite armed repression, is imperative to reap the benefits of successful counter-insurgency (COIN) operations.  

    In this context, Internal Security: A Psychological Approach by Major General Sanjay Bhide (Retd), who has also served as Additional Director General of Military Operations (Special Operations), is a modest attempt to examine and reorient the existing discourse on traditional internal security challenges in India. Deviating from the popular perception/understanding that internal threats are rooted in inherent socio-economic and cultural disparities, the author tries to explore the hitherto ignored socio-psychological dimension of internal security challenges. It involves envisioning and analysing internal security issues from a unique vantage point, that is, social psychology. The book has six chapters, besides an ‘introduction’, three appendices and a ‘postscript’. In the course of this study, the author draws extensively from his long stints in counterterrorist operations in the Kashmir Valley and suggests an operational model for ‘psychological warfare and perception management’ for effective handling of internal threats, leading to conflict resolution.

    He notes that the majority of the internal security threats which India faces today are by-products of the centuries-old India’s evolutionary process, from multitudes of ‘nations’ to a single sovereign ‘state’. According to him, India has never been able to qualify as a ‘state’ owing to her inherent fault lines in the socio-political and economic domains. As a result, the conceptual dichotomy that persists between the narrative of a ‘nation’ and ‘state’ (p. 49) has led to the evolution of differing ‘perceptions’ and ‘aspirations’ within the ‘individual’/group on what constitutes ‘freedom’, how one would like to be governed and how one should utilise the natural resources (pp. 16, 17). Such differing perceptions and growing aspirations within certain sections of population, coupled with the state’s failure to reach out timely and address them appropriately, have paved the way for the deeply entrenched perceptions of ‘deprivation’ and ‘self-value’ (pp. 56, 57). Thus, it is actually the individual/group’s belongingness to a ‘nation’ and the tenuous citizenship contract with the ‘state’ that acts as the principal source for the origin of all internal security threats. The hypothesis offered by Bhide stands logical and relevant in the larger contexts of Kashmir insurgency and multiple ethnic/tribal insurgencies in the North-East and tribal hinterland, which are essentially centred on the socio-psychological construct of narrow ‘nationalism’ and perception of ‘We vs You’ (p. 48). All these developments are surreptitious and complex in nature as they typically play out in individual’s mindset, consequently making it ‘ripe to rebel’ at the trigger of an incident.

    The author underscores that the manifestation of an internal security threat is a long-drawn process in the potent psychological domain, involving individual alignments, group formation, group think and crowd psychology (pp. 62, 63). He emphasises that it is essentially the psychological domain where an exploitable weakness of any ‘threat vector’ is present. Accordingly, the focus of all security and developmental initiatives necessarily needs to be the individual, his perceptions, his aspirations and his experience and position as a citizen within the politico-socio-economic milieu (p. 75). His call for waging a psychological war to target the individual/group’s perceptions (emerging internal threats) and aspirations, appears to be highly enthusiastic and far-fetched in the highly diversified and deeply fragmented Indian socio-political milieu.

    The author also laments on the impact of flawed political structure and strategic culture in exacerbating the inherent vulnerabilities. The heavy obsession of political parties to wield power by, and through, catering to the ‘aspirations’ of only a certain section of society has resulted in deepening of the feeling of ‘deprivation’ among the others, thus contributing to greater polarisation among the society along various fault lines that already exist. In addition, he raises concerns over the capabilities and aptness of India’s security architecture (at all levels) to deal with the multiple dimensions of internal threats. For instance, by placing all law and order issues (howsoever challenging they ought to be) within the realm of the states, the Indian Constitution has inadvertently contributed to ambiguity and dilemma in the security response. Such an ambiguity often allows the internal security threat to grow and fester under the nose of state government until it attains dangerous proportions and threatens the writ of the state. The author argues that by treating internal security threats as routine ‘law and order’ issues, the responses at the strategic, operational and tactical levels lack much-needed coherence and consistency as multiple players and their vested interests are at play while dealing with the potential threats (p. 36). A similar sort of strategic ambiguity and tactical inconsistency was largely evident while dealing with the threat of Maoist/left-wing extremist insurgency across the states. As a result, the insurgency gradually spread, festered and continues to pose grave security challenges despite the security offensives. 

    Bhide further argues that the response to counter any threat should primarily be driven in the psychological domain, targeting the enemy’s ‘centre of gravity’, the mind (p. 106). To achieve the same, he calls for undertaking well-thought-of, planned and strategically driven psychological intervention operations/PSYOPs. As none of the Indian structures or organisations are equipped to understand and exploit the vital psychological domain, he proposes a conceptual framework for the evolution of ‘whole-state psychological intervention’ approach (p. 112), along with the psychological intervention (PI) model (p. 114). He also discusses the vision, goals and evolution of a PI strategy (p. 115). The whole-state PI approach entails to bring the entire strategic structure to nullify any threat under the umbrella of PI organisation. Accordingly, all elements of state power would thus work within the overall umbrella of PI strategy and evolve their respective objectives in a constant interplay and exchange with the PI strategic goals. The author underscores that the PI strategy and operational plan should target the perceptions of members of each of the populace layer (p. 66) and manipulate them towards conflict resolution (p. 124).

    The proposed PI model, though a modest one, necessitates breaking and overcoming the existing silo mentality that has long crept in the security architecture at all levels. It also clamours for subordination of high standards, seamless coordination and unity of efforts by and among the various organs of state power and agencies, which is a challenging task given the country’s political structure and the strategic environment that governs the functioning of various organisations and agencies engaged in national security. Nevertheless, it is important to have in place a holistic and well-thought-of PI strategy and plan for undertaking small and swift PSYOPs (in subordination to kinetic force operations) to dominate and exploit the vital information domain.

    The author also reflects on the much-desired realignment and restructuring in the apex-level security institutions. A few of these recommendations are: giving teeth to the National Security Council (NSC) to monitor implementation of strategy and operational concepts by ensuring seamless coordination and functioning among all elements of national power; removing the dual control over the Joint Intelligence Committee and specifically tasking it to undertake psychological analysis of internal threats under the NSC; and creating a new Ministry of Internal Security by splitting the existing Ministry of Home Affairs (MHA). The charter of the new ministry should focus on early detection, analysis and prevention of any situation growing into a threat vector, including evolving and monitoring implementation of PI objectives and methods. The author has also suggested creating a department of ‘Psy War and Perception Management’ in the proposed Ministry of Internal Security. The same can be suitably empowered with legislative support and subjected to robust oversight mechanism (pp. 136, 137). Other functional organisations, such as National Investigation Agency, National Counter Terrorism Centre and Multi-Agency Centres, should be placed under the proposed Ministry of Internal Security.

    The book also offers an interesting and well-researched case study of the Kashmir threat vector, which attempts to prove the entire thrust of Bhide’s arguments as discussed in the preceding chapters. The author contends that the decades-old separatism in the Kashmir Valley has its genesis in the region’s isolated geography and a long history of evolving culture, religion and prosecution by ‘outsiders’. The same had led to the evolution of deep-rooted perception of ‘We vs You’ in the Kashmiri populace. This, combined with the perceived rigging of 1987 elections, Pakistan’s meddling in the situation, the centre’s inability to reach out to the populace and ineffective state institutions, has gradually resulted in the so-called ‘ripe to rebel’ mindset. This psychological construct, according to the author, has manifested in a dynamic process of group formation, individual alignments, group thinking and crowd psychology, as was largely evident during the violent street protests in the Valley in 2008, 2010 and 2016. Thus, from vocalising of demands to an armed uprising, the Kashmir threat vector has followed a long gestation period and a classical growth curve discussed by the author in earlier chapters. The author contends that the battle in the domain of ‘perceptions’ has never been figured in the Indian state response. He believes that the revocation of Article 370 and the accompanying division of the erstwhile state into the union territories of Jammu and Kashmir and Ladakh in August 2019 have, again, contributed to the virulent Kashmiri perception of India being an ‘outsider’—a perception that is undesirable and detrimental to the nation’s fabric and territorial integrity. He concludes by giving a call to wage and win the war in the domain of perceptions (manipulating ‘perceptions’ of Kashmiri populace and other internal security threats) for long-term conflict resolution.

    The author accords utmost importance to the socio-psychological approach to perceive and tackle the complex internal security threats. Though a modest one, but it calls for exceptionally high standards of political consciousness and consensus, improved centre–state relationship and synergy of actions, interdepartmental coordination and above all, the much-resisted change of ‘mindset’ to work together.

    The book extensively gains from the author’s personal experience in leading counterterrorist operations in the Kashmir Valley and is policy relevant. With a catchy dust jacket, neat print and simple and effective prose, the book is well written. It is complemented with tables, flowcharts, figures and maps to facilitate the readers’ comprehension. It will also make an excellent reading for all inquisitive readers, especially for students of national security. It should ideally become a part of the reading list of various universities, military/police academics, administrators and national security organs.

    Terrorism & Internal Security
    Is Sino-Pakistan Collusion a Chimera?: A Game Theory Perspective April-June 2021 G. Praveen

    Myriad complexities underlie the India–China–Pakistan triangle, with narratives varying from competition to collaboration. Recent developments in Galwan, renewed ceasefire agreement with Pakistan and a resurgent Quad, all amidst Covid diplomacy, necessitate a relook at traditional approaches and narratives on Sino-Pakistan collusion. Is it only a common anti-India sentiment that is driving it or is the pentagram of the United States, Russia, China, India and Pakistan, with their dyadic interplay, manifesting itself? From a game theory perspective, the probability of such a collusion is explored to argue that leveraging of diplomacy, information, military and economic (DIME) instruments of national power, combined with astute statecraft and foresight, is the way forward for India

    We worked out our methods to say how collusive [action] could happen and not happen, how much and how far one Nation can go against another. How they would support, we have worked out our contingencies, but yes, some kind of collusive [action] should be anticipated.

    —General Bipin Rawat, Chief of Defence Staff (CDS)1

    INTRODUCTION

    There are many intricacies in the inter se relations of China, Pakistan and India while correlating the behavioural patterns of these nation states with the various schools or thoughts of international relations theory.2 Shared history, traditional baggage of differences, differing perceptions on various issues and the prism of competition–collaboration add on to the complexities. Relative national power of these countries and the role of other players, like the United States (US), Russia and even the recently activated Quad, create a complex interconnected theatre. An often-repeated threat scenario within this paradigm is that of Sino-Pakistan collusion, wherein either of the two launches an offensive against India which is followed by the other, or both launch an overt, synchronised war, either in a geographically proximal battlefield like Gilgit-Baltistan or on two different fronts, to create a joint effect.3 Is such a collusion a chimera, propped up by warmongers, or a plausible reality which could threaten Indian national interests and security paradigm?

    Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines ‘chimera’ as an ‘imaginary monster compounded of incongruous parts’, an illusion or fabrication of the mind. Similarly, the word ‘collusion’ is defined as ‘a secret agreement or cooperation especially for an illegal or deceitful purpose’. Sino-Pak collusion would imply the congruence of interests between China and Pakistan, even as both individually have their own ambitions and varying internal priorities. How much are the collective interests of the two on a collision course with India or is there a common path for all to tread?

    If it becomes a two-front war, what will be the theatre of decision: will it be the traditional plains of Punjab or the glaciated unfriendly environs of Gilgit-Baltistan? Increased presence of People’s Liberation Army (PLA) troops in Gilgit-Baltistan (not-so-recent newspaper reports), recent announcement on funding for the long-pending Diamer-Bhasha Dam and the provisional provincial status accorded by Pakistan to Gilgit-Baltistan are certain indications of renewed interest in the area; and increased participation by China in trilateral groupings of Pakistan–Afghanistan–China and engaging the Taliban,4 even if for own energy security, have to be seen in the backdrop of such developments.

    TRIANGLE VERSUS QUADRILATERAL VERSUS PENTAGRAM

    In the realm of strategic management and geopolitics, it is easier to analyse bilateral relations or dyads. In the case of India and China:

    Both are attached to a range of multilateral mechanisms and bodies at regional, cross-continental and global levels, which helps them to establish new layers of engagement and power politics. The emerging layers of power politics do take the scope of their relationship far beyond the purview of bilateralism.5

    When the focus is on India’s neighbourhood, China, Pakistan, the US and Russia fall into a closer group of influencing actors.

    Recent Chinese actions in Galwan and reaffirmation of the ceasefire agreement between India and Pakistan, followed by increased proclivity from Pakistan for peace,6 necessitate the need to deeply understand the triad of China, Pakistan and India. When viewed as a triangle or an intersecting mix of Indo-Pakistan dyad and Sino-Pakistan dyad, it can be seen that Indo-Pakistan dyad is based on a mix of shared ancestry and mistrust, whereas that of Sino-Pakistan is bolstered by the needs of both countries to achieve strategic aims, with China as the dominant partner. For China, it is a window of opportunity to expand into Central Asia as well as have a two-ocean presence through Gwadar Port, while simultaneously encircling India. The recent developments in Quadrilateral Security Dialogue (Quad) and the Chinese response ‘about forming small cliques’ are some indicators of China’s concerns.7

    On the other hand, Pakistan sees in China a long-term ally, often termed as ‘high as mountains, deep as the ocean’ friendship which has seen various ups and downs in terms of covert and overt support. Pakistan’s nuclear programme is a testimony of this dyad and its effectiveness, but China’s reluctance to engage during Pakistan’s 1971 debacleand the 1999 Kargil War, due to extraneous factors, are past indicators of the extent to which China is willing to go. However, China of 1971 and 1999 is not the China of 2021, and the relative national power and inter se security threat perspectives have changed ever since.

    China supports Pakistan with a view of sustaining the strategic pull it exerts on India’s security calculus. The various platforms over which this generally one-sided friendship has manifested include transfer of technology, joint development of war machinery, nuclear enrichment ideas and infrastructure projects. In fact, the development of the nuclear option created a new set of warfare options at the sub-conventional level wherein the threshold had to be maintained below a nuclear trigger and at the same time, brought in strategic advantages to a comparatively weaker side, that is, Pakistan, in a one-on-one with India.

    Within the triangle or triad of these three nations, India’s nuclear policy, Act East Policy and increased maritime domination, including participation in regional forums like the Quad, impacts China’s strategic interests. The Sino-Indian dyad therefore is influenced by the US–China dyad, and similarly the US–India dyad’s strength depends on the collaborative/competitive spectrum of the US–China relations. To term this multilateral series of actors as a pentagram or pentagon would be oversimplification, but for ease of understanding and restricting the scope, the focus of this article will remain on the ChinaPakistanIndia triangle, with emphasis on the game theoretic possibility of a collusion.

    GAME THEORY PERSPECTIVE

    Under conditions of risk and uncertainty, especially when choices are to be made, an interesting perspective emerges when game theory is used or applied. In traditional Indo-Pak relations, experts speak of the Nash equilibrium8 of continuing with the status quo or ‘no war–no peace’ (NWNP),9 instead of a mutually beneficial Pareto-optimal solution of opting for peaceful resolution of the conflict.10 What makes the whole subject interesting, and at the same time intriguing, are the recent developments in Sino-Indian and Indo-Pakistan relations, like the Galwan standoff and the renewed ceasefire agreement.

    Prior to diving straight into a three-player game theory setting, let us first understand the dyadic relations between India and Pakistan. Within the prism of game theory, the payoffs for each when they play a ‘simultaneous move game’11 are represented in the matrix given in Table 1. For example, if India adopts ‘negotiate’ and Pakistan opts for ‘not negotiate’,12 India gets 0 and Pakistan 3; and if both opt for ‘not negotiate’, the payoffs are similar, that is, 1. The options, as described in the matrix, can be understood as ‘peace’ versus ‘no peace’ and within the option of ‘no peace’, the countries have a gradated range of options varying from ‘posturing’ to ‘NWNP’ to ‘all-out war’.  

    Table 1 Indo-Pak Payoffs

     

     

    Pakistan

     

     

    Negotiate

    Not Negotiate

    India

    Negotiate

    2,2

    0,3

     

    Not Negotiate

    3,0

    1,1

    Source: Gupta and Azad, "India–Pakistan Game-Theoretic Interplay", IDSA Comment, 20 April 2011.

    The value or payoffs could vary as per existent situations and interpretations of subject matter experts. In the model given in Table 1 , both India and Pakistan get a better payoff of 2 each if they opt for peace or ‘negotiate’ for a peaceful settlement. If one opts for peace and the other adopts ‘not negotiate’, the former gets a lower dividend of 0, while the latter gets a higher dividend of 3. Despite having a Pareto-optimal solution of higher payoffs if both opt for peace (both get 2 each), it is seen that the strategy adopted is the Nash equilibrium state of ‘not negotiate’ or ‘no peace’, wherein the players (India and Pakistan) get a payoff of only 1 each.  

    Why does this Happen?

    In game theory terms, when payoff available to each of the player irrespective of the other’s stance is analysed, the following observations emerge:

    1. If India opts for peace, Pakistan has an option between peace and ‘not negotiate’ with payoffs of 2 and 3. Pakistan will prefer ‘not negotiate’.
    2. If India opts for ‘not negotiate’, Pakistan has an option between peace and ‘not negotiate’ with payoffs of 0 and 1. Pakistan opts for ‘not negotiate’.
    3. So, irrespective of Indian options, Pakistan will prefer to adopt the ‘not negotiate’ (despite a payoff of 2 if both opted for peace), and similar is the case for India too. The Nash equilibrium is when both opt for ‘not negotiate’ as the players avoid opting for the dominated strategies where the other player stands to gain. This predicted outcome also satisfies the iterated elimination of dominated strategies as they are for India and Pakistan.

    INDIA–CHINA–PAKISTAN TRIANGLE

    In case of a three-player setting, the scenarios could be:

    1. India and Pakistan at war; China as quiescent onlooker.
    2. India at war with Pakistan; China covertly supports Pakistan (collusion).
    3. India at war with China; and Pakistan joins to exploit.
    4. India at war with China and Pakistan simultaneously, or a combined offensive by China and Pakistan against India (collaboration).13

    Irrespective of the scenarios, Chinese support of or collusion with Pakistan can be at these levels:

    1. Support in international forums—diplomatic manoeuvres.
    2. Economic and technological support.
    3. Military equipment supply/support.
    4. Overt military action in case of a two-front war.

    THREE-PLAYER GAME—PAYOFFS

    Payoffs in a three-person game can thereon be worked out for each of the scenarios with varying outputs for each player. It is obvious that with China as the additional player, the payoffs will alter and make it more lucrative for Pakistan to continue with the ‘not negotiate’ option. Similarly, in a two-player game between India and China, actions by Pakistan will make the payoffs favourable for China. However, a point to ponder is the comparative payoff for China to change its present stance of covert support in the domains of economy, technology and equipment transfer to an overt military action.

    Such a matrix is given in Table 2, with various payoffs. Effectively, it is a two-player matrix with an additional player (China) having an option of ‘not collude’ or ‘collude’.

    Table 2 Three-player Payoffs

     

     

    China

     

     

    Not Collude

    Collude

     

     

    Pakistan

    Pakistan

     

     

    Negotiate

    Not Negotiate

    Negotiate

    Not Negotiate

    India

    Negotiate

    8,8,8

    4,6,6

    6,8,6

    0,10,10

     

    Not Negotiate

    10,0,4

    4,4,4

    6,4,6

    2,6,7

    Source: Prepared by author based on his understanding of a 3-player Game Theory.

    The matrix in Table 2 is slightly different from the dyadic matrix given in Table 1, as the payoffs vary once the third player enters the game or influences outcomes. The payoffs have been worked out by the author based on existent factors. A more detailed explanation of the logic behind each payoff is given in the Annexure.

    The following are the observations:

    1. If India opts for ‘negotiate’ or peace and China adopts ‘not collude’, Pakistan has an option between ‘negotiate’ and ‘not negotiate’, with payoffs of 8 and 6. So, Pakistan opts for ‘negotiate’.
    2. If India opts for ‘not negotiate’ and China opts for ‘collude’, Pakistan has an option between ‘negotiate’ and ‘not negotiate’, with payoffs of 4 and 6. So, Pakistan opts for ‘not negotiate’.
    3. In view of the multiple challenges that Pakistan faces, varying from economy to internal struggles, and the existential arrangements with China as a permanent ally, it is highly likely that Pakistan continues with the ‘not negotiate’ or the ‘NWNP’ option and pursues the strategy of sponsoring terrorism and keeping Kashmir issue alive. Essentially, Pakistan will prefer to ‘negotiate’ if the collusive support from China is not available.
    4. When a similar analysis is done for China, the preferred choice would be ‘collude’ (as Pakistan will prefer ‘not negotiate’ and so, India will choose to ‘not negotiate’ no matter what China does)!
      1. If India and Pakistan continue with ‘negotiate’, China has payoff of 8 for ‘not collude’ and 6 for ‘collude’. So, China will prefer ‘not collude’.
      2. If India and Pakistan opt for ‘not negotiate’, China has payoffs of 4 for ‘not collude’ and 7 for ‘collude’, so China will prefer ‘collude’.

    Once the preferred strategies of each player are mapped (refer Annexure), the Nash equilibrium emerges as ‘not negotiate, not negotiate, collude’ for the three players of the India–Pakistan–China triangle. In a similar manner as the two-player matrix, despite having better payoffs if they opt for peaceful negotiations, the players continue with status quo, unless there is a motivation to change strategies and quit the existential Nash equilibrium.

    ANOTHER PERSPECTIVE: STAG HUNT

    When it came to tracking down a deer, everyone realized that he should remain dependably at his post, but if a hare happened to pass within reach of one of them, he undoubtedly would not have hesitated to run off after it and after catching his prey, he would have troubled himself little about causing his companions to lose theirs. (Rousseau, Discourse on the Origin of Inequality, 1755)14

    Having seen the three-person game theory outcomes, it will be worthwhile to get another game theoretic perspective of Pakistan–China dyad with India as the third player or factor against which they can collude. In this extended dyad (Table 3), the game resembles Rousseau’s ‘Stag Hunt’, wherein two pure strategy Nash equilibrium options are obtained: one with higher payoffs (stag, stag) and one with higher risks (hare, hare). Players can hunt for a stag together (cooperate) with a greater payoff, or separate and hunt for a hare individually (defect) with varying and lesser payoffs for each. Focus in this game is on cooperation and mutual trust between the players, which in this case is Pakistan and China.

    Table 3 China–Pakistan Payoffs

     

     

    Player 2

     

     

    Stag

    Hare

    Player 1

    Stag

    4,4

    3,1

     

    Hare

    1,3

    2,2

    Source: An adaptation of Stag Hunt model given in Page 3 of Ch'ng Kean Siang, “Risk Aversion and Coordination in a Simple Stag Hunt Game: Agent Based Modelling”(10 June 2010).  Available at https://ssrn.com/abstract=1623063

    Unlike the Indo-Pak dyad which resembles a prisoner’s dilemma, wherein option for player 2 was the same irrespective of the options played by player 1 and Nash Equilibrium was for ‘Not Negotiate’, in Stag Hunt, pure strategy Nash equilibrium is there for two options, that is, both going for stag or both for hare, the only difference being that the quantum of payoff is less if both players do not cooperate and go hunting a hare (4 versus 2).

    In the China–Pakistan–India triangle, if a comparison can be drawn with the matrix in Table 3, greater payoffs are there for both China and Pakistan if they collude against India (stag) rather than both going for different targets, like China going for Taiwan (hare) and Pakistan pursuing its own agenda, maybe in Afghanistan. Colluding with each other gives higher payoffs to both, thereby making it a better choice. The extent of collusion and its expansion onto the collaborative domain will depend on the risk propensity and external strategic orientation of the players.

    PENTAGRAMMIC INFLUENCES

    The US

    An analysis of the triangle will be incomplete without seeing the other players of the pentagram, namely, the US and Russia. Even as the US adopts a hedging strategy with India against China, within the Sino-Indian dyad, the concept of intergovernmentalism (refers to arrangements ‘whereby nation states, in situations and conditions they can control, cooperate with one another on matters of common interest’) seems to be the dominant strategy. Economics and pragmatism seem to be driving relations between the players in the US–China–India triangle, even as some argue about Thucydides trap becoming a reality and predict a future war between an aspiring power and an existent power.15 As Brahma Chellaney posited in the context of nuclear overhang in 2002, ‘China is driving New Delhi closer to the United States by seeking preeminence through balance-of-power politics.’16 It would be in Chinese interests to engage constructively with India even as it props up Pakistan to prevent a state collapse, and consequent challenges to its ongoing projects, and to avoid terror in the backyard in terms of support for Uighurs, etc.17

    Russia

    The pentagram of US, China, Russia, India and Pakistan is influenced by the dyads of US–China, US–Russia and Russia–India. India does not, and cannot, view China–Russia dyad as a zero-sum game and has sought to engage both China and Russia bilaterally, as well as through a raft of organisations, such as the Russia–India–China (RIC) grouping, the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation (SCO) and the Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa (BRICS) grouping.18 Within the Russia–China dyad, China buys 14 per cent of Russia’s exports and supplies Russia with 22 per cent of its imports, whereas India gets a mere 1.7 per cent of Russian exports and supplies 1.6 per cent of its exports to Russia.19 India’s plans of cutting import dependence and increasing self-sustenance has seen a considerable drop in traditional imports from Russia, though 49 per cent of India’s defence imports are from Russia20. There is also concern in the US about India’s plans to acquire the Russian S-400 missile system, to the extent of even inviting sanctions under Countering America's Adversaries Through Sanctions Act (CAATSA).21 The interests of the players in the Indo-Pacific, the Indo-Russian strategic partnership of yesteryears, Russian concerns about Quad and the need of Russia to adopt a hedging strategy with India against China are certain competing and contradicting factors which merit consideration.22

    Essentially, the security dilemma and inter se power equations between the various members of the pentagram, combined with the preferred strategies as derived from game theory, give indications of a ‘status quo’ even as various players jostle for strategic space and regional alliances. The greater returns in balancing the national power instruments of economy and diplomacy seems to be influencing the strategic behaviour of all players. The game will get more interesting if a three-player setting is explored for India–US–China or US–Russia–China, which is beyond the scope of this article. However, as is evident from various historic developments in this pentagram and assuming that all players will adopt their strategies rationally, it is fair to state that the existent payoffs for collusion cannot entirely motivate China to transcend into the realms of overt military support, with damaging consequences in the realms of diplomacy and economy.

    Maybe, the differing strategic culture of the Chinese vis-à-vis that of Clausewitzian concepts of war is clouding the perceptions of those predicting a likely strategy. Sun Tzu propounded that ‘the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting’, while Clausewitz spoke of Napoleonic mass army clashes and war as a continuation of politics by other means. In the immediate future, pursuing a policy of true collusion (covert collusion) is a better strategy for China as the payoffs are better and the strategy is in sync with the teachings of masters like Sun Tzu. Maybe, in game theory terms, China will hunt the hare (Taiwan) now and cooperate with Pakistan to hunt the stag (India) later?

    WAY AHEAD FOR INDIA

    The chimera of collusivity exists, but has it grown or transformed into a fire-breathing dragon is the point of concern from Indian perspective. The strategies of ‘not negotiate, not negotiate, collude’, as the Nash equilibrium for the three players, makes peace a distant dream. As seen earlier, if China has lesser payoffs in ‘collude’ and adopts ‘not collude’, chances of Pakistan being ready ‘to negotiate’ increase. To achieve such a strategic shift, India will have to adopt a multipronged strategy. The role played by other players of the pentagram, and those beyond, will also have to be influenced. What needs to be seen by strategists and policy planners is about swinging the payoffs in India’s favour.

    As Chellaney mentions, China and India can go down one of four paths: a downward spiral towards armed confrontation; armed coexistence; coexistence with cooperation and rivalry; and partnership.23 In the Sino-Indian dyad, armed coexistence seems more probable for the near future. What can be done in the interim is to prepare for the worst outcome, following the age-old dictum of ‘forewarned is forearmed’. The diplomacy, information, military and economic (DIME) instruments of national power have to be further leveraged with astute statecraft to ensure that the principles of coexistence and pragmatism combine with an attitude of cooperation rather than competition.

    In the military domain, there is a need to change the traditional orientation of offensive/strike formations from the plains and deserts to that of high altitude, with more predominance of technology like swarm drones. Our doctrine, training and equipment need to be more joint and adapted to cater for multiple-domain operations, including air, maritime and even the cognitive domains. This can be combined with force restructuring, alongside other steps being adopted towards theatrisation. Developments in the domain of space and cyber, and creation of new organisations like the Strategic Support Force,24 need to be factored in own calculus.

    At no point should deterrence be sacrificed at the altars of those who profess the futility of force. Capability and will, two essential components of deterrence, need to be demonstrated, even as our diplomatic manoeuvre reduces the probability of a physical manifestation of Sino-Pakistan collusion in the military realm.

    ANNEXURE

    The matrix for three-player game has been worked out in the following manner for three players, namely, India, Pakistan and China. Both India and Pakistan have an option between ‘negotiate’ and ‘not negotiate’, whereas the option available to China is ‘collude’ or ‘not collude’. The assumptions are that all players will act rationally and that the Chinese options vary between ‘not collude’ to ‘more overt military action in support of Pakistan’. Effectively, it is a two-player matrix with an additional player (China) having an option of ‘not collude’ or ‘collude’. When both India and Pakistan are opting for a strategy like ‘negotiate’, and if China is opting for ‘not collude’, it is assumed that China will not undertake any actions with offensive or detrimental interests.

    Table A1 Three Player Playoffs (Copy of Table 2) for easy reference

     

     

    China

     

     

    Not Collude/Peace

    Collude

     

     

    Pakistan

    Pakistan

     

     

    Negotiate

    Not Negotiate

    Negotiate

    Not Negotiate

    India

    Negotiate

    8,8,8

    4,6,6

    6,8,6

    0,10,10

     

    Not Negotiate

    10,0,4

    4,4,4

    6,4,6

    2,6,7

    If both India and Pakistan opt to ‘negotiate’, all long-standing disputes will be resolved and there will be overall progress in terms of collaborative peace; so, both get a payoff of 8. In such a scenario, if China opts for ‘not collude’ and show peaceful overtures, the payoff is 8 and if option is ‘collude’, with negative, conflict-oriented tendencies, the payoff is 6, as the assumption is that Chinese actions will be to not let peace prevail. In such a scenario, the Indian payoff will drop to 6 too.

    If both India and Pakistan opt for ‘not negotiate’, the payoff is 4 without Chinese collusion. If China colludes in such a scenario, the Indian payoffs drop and gets reduced to 2. Pakistan, with Chinese collusion, gets a larger payoff of 6 (slightly greater than a scenario without China). From Chinese perspective, an option of ‘not collude’ when both India and Pakistan opt for ‘not negotiate’ earns 4 (lesser than ‘negotiate’); and the alternative of ‘collude’ will earn 7 (higher than payoff of collusion when both were opting fornegotiate’, but lesser than opting for ‘not collude’ or peace when both were opting for ‘negotiate’).

    The Nash equilibrium—when each player’s strategy is analysed against the other two—works out to be ‘not negotiate, not negotiate, collude’, with a payoff matrix of 2, 6, 7.

    Calculation for Nash Equilibrium

    In summation, the strategies that emerge are shown in Table A2:

    Table A2 Dominant Strategies



    Strategies of Two Players

    Strategy of the Third Player



    Strategies of Two Players

    Strategy of the Third Player

    India-negotiate; Pakistan-negotiate

    China-not collude

    India-not negotiate; Pakistan-not negotiate

    China-collude

    Pakistan-negotiate; China-not collude

    India-not negotiate

    Pakistan-not negotiate; China-collude

    India-not negotiate

    India-negotiate; China-not collude

    Pakistan-negotiate

    India-not negotiate; China-collude

    Pakistan-not negotiate

    Based on the given matrix, when the strategies are superimposed on the three-player matrix, an idea of Nash equilibrium can be obtained. The payoffs underlined and in bold highlight the preferred strategies extrapolated from Table A2. The cell having the preferred strategies of all players in the same indicate Nash equilibrium. In this case, it is India and Pakistan for ‘not negotiate’, with China opting to ‘collude’.

    Table A3 Nash Equilibrium

     

     

    China

     

     

    Not Collude/Peace

    Collude

     

     

    Pakistan

    Pakistan

     

     

    Negotiate

    Not Negotiate

    Negotiate

    Not Negotiate

    India

    Negotiate

    8,8,8

    4,6,6

    6,8,6

    0,10,10

     

    Not Negotiate

    10,0,4

    4,4,4

    6,4,6

    2,6,7

    Colonel Govindan Praveen is posted as Directing Staff in the Faculty of Decision Sciences, College of Defence Management, Secunderabad.

    Disclaimer: The views expressed and suggestions made in the article are solely of the author in his personal capacity and do not have any official endorsement. Attributability of the contents lies purely with the author.

    South Asia Russia-China-India Trilateral, Pakistan-China Relations
    Challenges for Ebrahim Raisi’s Presidency June 25, 2021 Prabhat Jawla

    The landslide victory of Hojatoleslam Ebrahim Raisi1 in the presidential election held on June 18, 2021 indicates that conservatives (Principlists) will now be in control of all three branches of the government—executive, legislature and judiciary. Yet, the tenure of Ebrahim Raisi as the President of the Islamic Republic of Iran is not likely to be a smooth sail, considering the immense challenges that lie ahead on the domestic front as well as the foreign policy front. In the very first press briefing, Raisi withstood Iran's existing position on the nuclear issue, missile programme and regional activities; additionally, he affirmed the prospects of restoring diplomatic ties with Saudi Arabia. On the domestic front, the main challenge for his government would be to improve the economic condition of Iran and the standard of living of its people.

    The new presidency of ultraconservative Ebrahim Raisi will have to bite the bullet to solve the problems of the Islamic Republic of Iran, something conservatives have discerningly avoided in the past. Since Hassan Rouhani took over the presidency after the tumultuous eight years of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, conservatives had conveniently resorted to laying the blame on Rouhani for every crisis that Iran faced, for instance, the decision to raise fuel prices and cutting of associated subsidies in November 2019.2 The conservatives comprised two-thirds of the committee that decided to raise the prices, yet the blame for the price-hike and resulting death of protesters was hurled onto the Rouhani administration. The shooting of the Ukrainian airliner in January 2020 is another such instance.3 Now, given that the conservatives control the presidency, the parliament and the judiciary, the Raisi government can no longer avoid these critical issues that Iran faces.

    The issue of low voter turnout in the election indicates the apathy of Iranians about the reforms in the country. Such apathy is bound to come out through public protests unless the public feels the necessary economic recompenses.4 Although protests have been an integral legacy of the Islamic Revolution, the frequency and intensity of the protests have increased in the last few years, with the economic protests of 2017–18, protests over hike in fuel prices in 2019, and in the aftermath of the shooting down of the Ukrainian airliner in January 2020.

    To some extent, the grievances behind these protests can be ascribed to the Donald Trump administration's “Maximum Pressure” policy, but this does not undermine the importance of addressing serious policy issues within the Islamic Republic. As such, the new conservative administration can no longer afford to blame Rouhani or Trump. Though the increased use of force has worked to curb the protests so far, the Raisi presidency will have to make palpable and effective policy decisions, otherwise, it would only make conservatives a target of public resentment.

    The economic effects of the pandemic have been exacting even for the world's largest economies. However, in the case of Iran, the pandemic exacerbated the existing economic woes. With the Joseph Biden administration in the White House, the Rouhani government had started negotiations to resume the 2015 nuclear deal. Half a dozen rounds of talks have already been conducted, however, no substantive outcomes have emerged so far.

    The recovery after the initial COVID-19 shocks has been moderate, and lack of investment either from the inconsequential private sector in Iran or the foreign investment only added to the existing challenges.5 Iranian economy had been in recession for three years mainly due to the US-imposed sanctions; the pandemic-induced oil shocks seem to have worsened the situation.  Nonetheless, the structural problems within the Iranian economy would remain a crucial issue of concern for the Raisi government.

    In his first press conference, President-elect Raisi insisted that the economy would be his principal concern, alongside poverty alleviation, something he had been highlighting in his populist-oriented campaign. “[t]he message of the Iranian nation was the necessity of a change in the economic situation”, noted Raisi.6 He also pointed out, “Our domestic policy and priorities in this administration will be to improve the business situation and the living conditions of the people.”7 In the short term, the Raisi government can expect some relief through the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA), however, it cannot be an all-purpose remedy for Iran's economic problems. 

    Not merely Raisi’s ultraconservative image or his closeness to Supreme Leader, but his reputation regarding human rights would also be his immediate challenge outside Iran. Also, Raisi would be the first Iranian President to be sanctioned by the United States, a label that Raisi hopes would be lifted along with sanctions. As a prosecutor, Raisi was part of the notorious “Death Commission” that allegedly carried out mass executions of political prisoners in 1988.8 Human rights groups worldwide have been pressing on this issue, which could be a big challenge to overcome for the new President. “Everything I’ve done in my time of holding office has been to defend human rights”, Raisi said, defending his actions and role in the Commission.9

    Raisi also withstood his ultraconservative credentials by stating a clear “No” as a response to a question about holding talks with President Biden.10 Soon after his victory, Raisi even paid a visit to the incumbent foreign minister, Javad Zarif, during which the JCPOA was the main issue under discussion.11 On the nuclear deal issue, Raisi restated Iran's position vis-à-vis JCPOA, promising continuity from the previous administration. He also added, “Our nation has shown resistance to the pressures, and the world should know that our government's foreign policy does not start with the JCPOA because it will not be limited to the JCPOA.”12 Notably, decoupling the economic benefits and the JCPOA negotiations, he remarked, “we will not tie the economic situation and the conditions of the people to the negotiations.”13 Nevertheless, once the deal comes into force, the Raisi government is likely to sweep through to take the credit of months-long negotiations.

    Raisi embraced the question of pursuing cordial relations with Saudi Arabia. He asserted, “Relations with all countries of the world, especially relations with neighbouring countries … there is no obstacle on the part of the Islamic Republic regarding the reopening of embassies between the two countries in relation to Saudi Arabia.”14 This should not come as a surprise as Riyadh and Tehran had been talking in Baghdad, but Raisi’s commitment to fostering relations with Riyadh is a crucial development.15 Meanwhile, he also adhered to Iran’s position on ballistic missiles and its regional activities. “Regional and missile issues are not negotiable”, emphasised Raisi.16

    To conclude, the Raisi government is likely to face severe challenges on both internal and external fronts. The new conservative presidency cannot afford to ignore or blame the problems that plague the Islamic Republic. Given the numerous grievances of the public, the protests are likely to continue, and unless tangible benefits are provided to the people, Raisi would be directly exposing his government and the larger conservatives’ bloc to public anger. On the foreign policy front, the challenges would go beyond the question of the JCPOA and include Iran's missile programme and its regional activities. So far, Raisi has not signalled any significant changes, but his personal image would be the immediate foreign policy challenge for the new presidency.

    Views expressed are of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Manohar Parrikar IDSA or of the Government of India.

    Eurasia & West Asia Iran, Elections system/files/thumb_image/2015/Ebrahim_Raisi_thumb.jpg
    Oman’s Renewed Economic and Political Challenges June 25, 2021 Lakshmi Priya

    The pandemic induced economic slowdown in Oman, compounded by the vagaries of the international oil market, has resulted in a series of youth protests in the country. Hundreds of unemployed Omani youth, protesting mass layoffs, took to the streets in May. The government had to use force to quell these protests. For the new Sultan, Haitham bin Tariq Al-Said, these protests amplified the economic and political challenges that lie ahead. Meanwhile, his government has announced 32,000 new employment opportunities and subsidy to private companies employing Omani youth. The fruition of these measures would depend on its success in spurring economic growth. However, whether accommodating the demands of the youth would help Sultan Haitham in securing popular legitimacy and further consolidating his leadership, is something that remains to be seen.

    Plummeting Economy

    Sultan Qaboos, who ruled for close to 50 years (1970-2020), modernised and transformed Oman through increased economic diversification, industrialisation, natural gas production, infrastructure development and privatisation. Nonetheless, Oman essentially remained an oil-based economy. The oil price crash of 2015-16 led Sultan Qaboos to adopt economic reforms that included a drastic cut in public spending, increased taxation, and reduction in subsidies by 20 per cent. However, these measures subsequently triggered the unrest of 2017-18. Depleting reserves and falling oil prices had led to an economic slowdown and rise in unemployment, especially among the youth.

    Largely dependent on the export of hydrocarbons, Oman’s economy has been vulnerable to fluctuations in global oil prices. It also suffers from structural issues that are unlikely to be resolved any time soon. Oman’s oil production is going through a long-term slowdown. According to the country’s finance ministry, the future growth in reserves will be limited to a successful implementation of enhanced oil recovery techniques.1 Besides, Oman is over-reliant on external funding. As per the Fitch Ratings, Oman faced a higher fiscal deficit and drawdown of fiscal reserves in 2020, and the willingness of lenders to fund Oman’s huge external financing needs will be critical to the sustainability of the country’s government finances.2  

    The COVID-19 Shock

    The succession of Haitham bin Tariq Al-Said in January 2020 generated hope among the youth, but the new ruler inherited a low performing economy that required tough decisions. Before Sultan Haitham came to power, the global economic shock caused by the pandemic had already dealt a blow to the weak economy of Oman. Due to containment measures, the non-hydrocarbon GDP decreased by 10 per cent and the economy contracted by 6.1 per cent in 2020. Sectors such as construction, hospitality, wholesale and retail trade took the heaviest toll. According to the International Monetary Fund, lower oil-generated revenue, economic contraction and fiscal support measures led to the widening of the fiscal shortfalls, and in 2020 Oman’s deficit widened to 17.3 per cent of the GDP.3 Oman had to depend on the issuance of external bonds, the drawdown of deposits and sovereign funds, and proceeds from the privatisation drive. Oman’s debt rose to 81 per cent of the GDP in 2020, from 60 per cent in 2019.4 It is to be noted that, like most other Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) countries, Oman does not have ample fiscal buffer to rely on.

    Political Fallout

    The protests in Oman have also highlighted the political challenges for Sultan Haitham. Oman has in the past witnessed protests advocating political reforms and the introduction of political participation. Muscat and other major cities had witnessed protests in 2011-12 soon after the Arab Spring spread in the region. The protests renewed in 2017-18. Though Oman had since 2007 incorporated incremental political reforms by introducing elections for the Majlis al-Shura (Consultative Council) and the Majlis al-Baladiya (Municipal Council), it has not significantly changed the political situation. Oman remains an absolute monarchy, and the youth who aspire for democratic participation remain disenchanted. The recent protests, although largely focused on economic issues, and coming at a time when the government has announced an indefinite postponement of the municipal council elections due in 2021 owing to the Covid-19 pandemic, underline the mounting challenge for Sultan Haitham who was reportedly handpicked by Sultan Qaboos to succeed him. Given the slow pace of political reforms in Oman, the youth are demanding accelerated measures to devolve more power to both chambers of the council of Oman.

    Haitham’s Economic Reforms

    In the past year-and-a-half, Sultan Haitham has taken a number of measures to revive the economy. First, the 10th five-year plan (2021-25) focuses on economic diversification, fiscal sustainability, labour market, youth employment, investment and the private sector, besides emphasising education, health and skill development.5 The sectors earmarked for economic diversification are agriculture, fisheries, manufacturing, transport, energy, mining and tourism.  In order to diversify its economy, Oman focuses on attracting foreign capital in non-oil and export-oriented sectors by taking regulatory reform measures and infrastructure development. Second, the government intends to capitalise on its geographic advantage to develop into a regional logistics hub. And third, the government emphasises enforcing local procurement requirement for foreign companies along with the promotion of Omanisation of the workforce.6 Sultan Haitham imposed a 10 per cent budget cut for the government authorities and introduced a five per cent value-added tax in a phased manner currently applicable to businesses earning more than one million Omani Rial (OMR).7  He also minimised grants, reduced the retirement age, and decreased wages for the new hires.

    It is apparent from the protests that the reforms were not received well by the Omani youth. Responding to the protests, the government announced new jobs for youth and accelerated Omanisation of the workforce and asked the public sector companies to appoint Omanis in place of foreign staff by July 2021. The foreigners make up more than 40 per cent of Oman’s population of 4.6 million. The government reserved 11 professions in the private sector for the Omani nationals in June 2020. Between March 2020 and March 2021, more than 200,000 migrant workers engaged in the private sector left Oman.8 However, the young population in the Sultanate perceives the private sector as exploitative and seeks jobs in the public sector. The young demography of Oman is getting restless and needs quick solutions to the economic woes, which is a challenging task for Sultan Haitham considering the country’s dependence on oil.

    Conclusion

    The recent protests have renewed the focus on need for economic and political reforms in Oman, and it is apparent that any short-cut to reforms will not prove beneficial in the long run. The reforms have to be systematic and bring long-term stability to the gulf country with modest oil resources. The economic and political reforms have to go hand-in-hand while time is of the essence. The tact lies in keeping the youth contented while re-inventing the ailing economy.

    Views expressed are of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Manohar Parrikar IDSA or of the Government of India.

    Eurasia & West Asia Oman, COVID-19 system/files/thumb_image/2015/oman_thumb.jpg
    UN Peacekeeping in Democratic Republic of the Congo, 2003–2010: An Operational Perspective for Air Power Employment April-June 2021 Rajesh Isser

    Air power has played a critical role in counter-insurgency and irregular warfare across the world. India’s own rich experience is full of documented roles of air power in such campaigns. This article documents the unique experience of Indian air power in ‘robust’ peacekeeping under the United Nations (UN) flag in Democratic Republic of the Congo in 2003– 2010. A modelling is attempted to understand doctrinal and conceptual issues of this experience. Lessons are gleaned to improve air power’s effectiveness in such less-than-war situations. This is an imperative in light of the increasing importance of protection of civilians during conflicts.

    Historical Background: Indian Air Power in Counter-Insurgency

    Beginning with the legendary exploits of Dakotas and ‘Baba Meher’ and his gang of can-do pilots in 1947–48, a feat that saved Jammu and Kashmir (J&K) for India, the Indian Air Force (IAF) has almost continuously been involved in less-than-war and limited or low-intensityconflict operations (LICO). A major portion of this has been counter- insurgency or COIN within the Indian borders. The IAF’s helicopter and transport fleets have put in yeomen service towards this and continue to do so till date. This has been matched by a humongous effort by supporting echelons of IAF bases and detachments spread across the country. Yet, there is very sketchy understanding and acknowledgement in IAF doctrine of these complex operations.

    The IAF’s rich legacy of commitment over decades to conflicts that are variedly termed as irregular war, COIN operations, hybrid wars, sub-conventional operations and less-than-war is not too well documented. Recently (a decade or so), some books have covered this facet, for example, Operation Pawan (Bharat Kumar), Operation Cactus (Ashok K. Chordia), 1962 Sino-Indian War and the post- independence wars with Pakistan. The IAF’s experience of United Nations Peace Keeping (UNPK), under Chapter VII, in Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) between 2003 and 2010 was unique since it pioneered a new robustness in peacekeeping with the help of air power. This experience can be fleshed out for the conceptual framework followed and lessons within. It could be applicable as a working model to any unified command structure, as is being followed in India.

    A whole-of-government approach is necessary for these less-than- war scenarios.

    IAF’s UNPK Operational Experience in DRC

    The Indian Aviation Contingents (IACs) in United Nations (UN) missions have truly stood tall among all others in the business of peace. Though nations in the UNPK set-up do not publicly acknowledge other nation’s achievements for varied reasons, they have been witness to the will and professionalism displayed by the IAF warriors, which was second to none. Even the Indian Army, deployed since decades, has gone through its ups and downs, including scathing criticism at times. However, report after report, both UN-sponsored and independent, has conceded that even before ‘robustness’ became fashionable, the IAF had already set benchmarks in terms of ethos, ethics and practices.1

    All Indian Army deployments in the Congo, Sierra Leone, Somalia and Sudan have documented and acknowledged the critical role that IAF helicopters have played in their success, and very often their survival, against some of the toughest odds. In fact, if there is a role-model of jointness, it is in these deployments. Two cases in point are DRC and Sierra Leone under UN Chapter VII. The employment included: show of force; close air support; communication; intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance (ISR); airborne early warning and control capability; target acquisition; combat air patrol; special heliborne operations; and casualty evacuation. Yet, care and calibration ensured no collateral damage in the almost seven years of aggressive peacekeeping in the Congo (IAC-1 and IAC-2) and Sudan (United Nations Mission in Sudan [UNMIS]).

    Air Power Employment: Dictated by India’s Own Experience

    Clear, hold and build have been the timeless principles of counter- insurgency though they may overlap each other or run parallely in different scenarios. Clearing is literally cleaning a designated territory of insurgents, while Holding is about securing the same in terms of safety to the population in general. The ‘build’ part is more complex and involves consolidation of military successes by building functional institutions, improving governance and improving the local economy. The third leg is where the military effectively needs civil support, and should shed the lead to civil agencies. But local civil agencies may inevitably atrophy without sufficient capacity to undertake development in a conflict-destroyed area. Additionally, political, public and media attention too moves on to other and newer issues once violence statistics have improved.

    India’s successful handling of many insurgencies with patience, resources and civilian-driven effort has consistently used air power as an enabler. It is worthwhile to model this in a framework, as given in Figure  1. In fact, in DRC, it was this framework around which the aviation concept of operations (CONOPS) and tasking was finalised.

    Referring to the model given in Figure 1, Table 1 gives out sequential actions while employing air power in COIN. The numbers (starting from 1) do not denote the sequence but flow out of the centre of the core (population) in the model. This may be an oversimplification since many actions are simultaneous and parallel. Also, complex higher-degree effects force adaptability and many changes in sequence. The dotted lines in Figure 1 are just to differentiate among the different actions along the same path.

    The Indian COIN Model

    Figure 1  The Indian COIN Model

    Source: Author’s model based on extensive COIN experience in India, Indian Peace Keeping Force (IPKF) and UNPK.

    Table 1 Explanation of the Indian COIN Model

    Number

    Actions and Explanation

    1 1Action is the influence of governmental agencies and general administration through its mandated actions, including overall good governance, policing (law & order) and institution building (legal, academic, social, etc.).
    2

    2Actions are direct actions by the administrative machinery against insurgents, such as police, magisterial processes and intelligence gathering. The aim is to keep chipping away at the movement and work on those who can be weaned away.

     

    7

    In remote and inaccessible areas, air power plays a powerful role in mobilisation and facilitating governance. This includes movements of teams, equipment and requirements to expedite development projects. Move of political figures to ‘hot zones’ is a critical component of the same.

    5

    Air power also provides direct and very visible support to the public in terms of medevac and movement of medical teams, as also support during disaster response and management.

    3

    In large insurgencies where local capacities are not enough to manage the affairs, the military or Central Armed Police Forces (CAPF) are mobilised. They form part of the larger matrix of a whole-of- government approach. For example, the concept of unified command in Assam and J&K that was started by General S.K. Sinha (Retd) when he was the Governor in these states.2 It acts on the populace in terms of providing physical presence, mobility and quick reaction with large and capable forces. This also brings in a component of deterrence as the insurgents fear quick retribution.

    6

    There is also a large component of ‘winning hearts and minds’ (WHAM). All these actions are enabled or facilitated by air power by helicopters and transport aircraft. Surveillance and reconnaissance are enabled through specialised electronic intelligence aircraft and helicopter surveys. A core part is providing casualty evacuation or even combat search and rescue from conflict areas, such as ambush sites, by day and night. Combat support comes in the form of air- delivered (landed or air dropped) logistics to sustain operations, quick reinforcements by air and other such innumerable imaginative and innovative uses.

    2 & 4

    These actions denote all direct missions against the insurgency. For example, ‘search-and-cordon’ and ‘clear-and-hold’, which are essentially armed actions, followed by governance elements. Communication infrastructure is a prime target for insurgents to disable the critical capacity of the government. Improvised explosive devices (IEDs) are a crucial capability in their hands. Till the time this battle is won by government forces, air power plays a crucial part in the clear-and-hold tactics.

    8

    The entire effort is to separate the insurgent from the populace. This is a core political move other than the concern for collateral damage. Besides negation of the insurgent’s tools, such as ideology, fear and grievances, government agencies are armed with tools for nation- building, identity-building and making the public stakeholders in their economic growth. Air power, especially helicopter support, plays a vital part.

    9

    Once the physical and mental separation has been done, the field is ready for more vigorous and offensive employment of air power. Actions to support governance initiatives include: supporting the political process, such as elections; proactive police actions; enabling the demobilising, reintegration and rehabilitation of those who surrender; and local capacity building, especially of the security apparatus. Development efforts, such as quick impact projects, require movement of large equipment by air, for example, bulldozers, earth movers, generators and telecommunication set-ups. Instead of waiting for road/rail infrastructure to come up, aerial delivery kick- starts the whole programme.

    10

    On the other side, air power is freed to play a more direct role in containing the insurgency, including fire support to ground action, effect-based combined arms operation, taking on time-sensitive targets and targeting various levels of leadership.

    11&12 A key to aerial action (11) is targeting information that comes through focused tech intelligence via unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs), electronic and communication monitoring and aerial surveys. But the most important source is humint though various agencies that form part of the unified command. The separation of the populace from the insurgent allows free flow of credible information (12). However, the set-up for gathering and analysing is different from the usual joint set-ups that the military is used to.3 A key requirement is knowledge, familiarity and networking of intelligence analysts who prepare target folders for aerial missions.
       
    Source: Author’s own.

    In summary, to sustain an insurgency, the insurgents have certain core needs: money; arms, ammunition and explosives; leadership, communications and command and control; and ideology, popular support and sanctuaries. A holistic, consistent and well-resourced civil– military effort tries to take away these elements vital for their survival. The mix of operations includes conventional clear–hold–build operations and special forces action for high-risk targeted operations. An effort has to be mandated to organise, train, equip and build infrastructure for the local police and paramilitary forces. At the same time, a larger effort must go into facilitating good governance and associated infrastructure and capacities. There will be requirement to improve basic services, education, infrastructure, access to food and healthcare to win the battle for the population. This is the essence of the unified command concept.

    The Monuc Mandate

    Military operations throughout United Nations Organization Mission in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (MONUC) were guided by goals and objectives determined at the highest levels of the UN. The overall direction was by the Special Representative of the Secretary General (SRSG) in Kinshasa.4 In August 2003, the following principal objectives were enunciated by higher UN leadership:5

    1. Stopping the killing and ending the tragedy of war and conflict.
    2. Facilitating political transition leading to free and transparent elections.
    3. Working towards the establishment of a rule of law and respect for human rights, which are essential foundations for economic development.
    4. Addressing the legacy of war by improving human conditions for sustainable peace.

    This vision was transmitted down to all levels of the mission, and was also put out as written intent, orders and guidance in all departments of the Mission. For the military component, these manifested as the Force Commander’s direction and intent. For Sector 5 (the two districts of North and South Kivu), these were as follows:

    Establish a UN presence in key terrain, evolve mechanisms for local conflict resolution monitor and verify activities of belligerents. Also, provide support to Disarmament, Demobilization, Repatriation, Reintegration and Resettlement (DDRRR) to create stability within Sector 5.

    Specifically, it was to:

    1. Establish UN presence in key terrain and areas not accessible to military observers (MILOBs) and civilian UN staff.

    2. Establish mechanisms to achieve local conflict resolution, in particular between the factions of the transitional government and armed groups.

    3. Monitoring and verify reports of the activities and presence of: Rwandans; uncontrolled armed groups; the humanitarian situation and employment of child soldiers.

    4. Support DDRRR through identification, awareness building and support structures, e.g., assembly areas close to areas where combatants and dependants are.

    5. Assist where possible with humanitarian operations, human rights and child protection activities.

    6. Be prepared to assist with evacuation plans.

    7. Conduct civil–military cooperation (CIMIC) tasks to support the mission objectives, including route improvement.

    CONOPS

    The MONUC was to have an ability to militarily carry out the following missions:

    1.Preventive aerial deployment capacity to ‘nip-in-the-bud’ emergent violence.

    2.Monitoring or supervision of a tense situation, stalemate, ceasefire or settlement.

    3.Surveillance of cantonment areas, demilitarised zones or buffer zones between warring parties.

    4.Supporting any process of peace including disarming and demobilising of the warring factions.

    5.Protection and support of humanitarian assistance.

    6.Non-combatant evacuation under threat and establishment of protective zones.

    7.Support in election-conduct, maintenance of civil order and enforcement of sanctions.

    In light of the outlined missions, the Force Commander’s operation order directed the following to IAC-1:

    1.Carry out tasks that UN civilian aviation cannot undertake.

    2.Carry out peace enforcement operations.

    3.Protect UN personnel, facilities, installations and equipment.

    4.Ensure security and freedom of movement of MONUC personnel.

    5.Protect civilians and humanitarian workers under imminent threat.

    6.Contribute to improvement in security conditions.

    The attack helicopters’ roles envisaged to fulfil the CONOPS were:

    1.Armed escort to utility helicopters, civilian aircraft and ground convoys.

    2.Recce (reconnaissance) missions.

    3.Fire support to heliborne and ground operations.

    4.Assist in insertion and extraction of troops.

    5.Psychological and information operations.

    6.Search and rescue operations.

    7.Special operations (with special forces). Those by utility and medium-lift helicopters were:

    1.Troop insertion/extraction, including special heliborne operations.

    2.Medevac/casualty evacuation.

    3.DDRRR  (disarmament,  demobilisation,  repatriation, reintegration and resettlement).

    4.Psychological and information operations (for example, leaflet dropping).

    5.Underslung operations in inaccessible areas.

    6.Armed and recce role.

    7.Logistics supply.

    8.Search and rescue operations.

    9.Communication/patrol/observation/recce.

    Operational Challenges

    Environmental Threats

    In DRC, there were very few emergency landing fields due to the undulating terrain, with thick tropical forests. The area was sparsely populated and lacked navigational features. The next threat was weather: very fast-changing and fiery cumulus/ thunderstorm build up during the afternoon hours, leading to heavy and violent spells of rain. This assumed more significance in light of the fact that Mi-25 helicopters were not allowed to cross any international boundaries, even for weather avoidance. Another major hindrance was the near absence of navigational aids. Thus, as there were no aids at many of the airfields in DRC, the aircrew had to rely on the on-board systems only. The greatest threat of all were the belligerents themselves.6

    As was expected, there were no aerial threats to IAC. However, there were a fair number of infantry weapons and small arms in the hands of the militias. These were used by them during a helicopter’s take-off and landing phases. In the first six months itself, three helicopters, one airplane and one fighter aircraft—all but one helicopter belonging to the Interim Emergency Military Force (IEMF)—had been shot at and damaged by renegade elements. Additionally, one Mi-25 of the IAC and one Mi-17 of Bangladesh Air Force were also shot at and hit in the first year itself. As time progressed, rocket-propelled grenades (RPGs) were used to deter IAC helicopters from operating in critical areas.

    Considering the alien flying environment in DRC, IACs had to evolve standard operating procedures (SOPs) on a regular basis, with continuous tweaking to match the situation in hand. Some of these are highlighted next:

    1.MONUC was advised to establish UN MILOB sites along routes where no force landing fields were otherwise available.

    2.When helicopters were planned for a halt at a helipad, four armed UN soldiers were carried on board for protection.

    3.A system of flight tracking was established in parallel to the rudimentary one followed by the UN. This enabled the IAC aircrew to be in continuous high-frequency contact with the base, allowing better situational awareness and reaction times.

    4.Regular intelligence analysis and updated briefings were conducted for the aircrew.

    5.Mi-17 operations were restricted to out-of-ground effect ops to allow higher power margins for aggressive manoeuvring, with random routing/approaches being mandatory on helipads. Where deemed necessary, an Mi-25 escort was also sent.

    6.Mi-25s were given height restriction and defined operating envelopes to stay out of small arms range.

    7.All crew carried satellite phones and mobiles to ensure connectivity at all times.

    Force Protection

    Probably the least glamorous, yet perhaps a most critical component of air power in UNPK is force protection of air assets and manpower, including pilots and technicians. A force can only fight if it survives and retains its combat edge. Thus, the value of aerial assets as enablers and force multipliers makes them prime lucrative targets; amply demonstrated by the LTTE attack on the military airport in Colombo, Sri Lanka, and the attack on a Pakistani naval base at Mehran. Also, in this regard, the returns to belligerents or terrorists far outweigh the risks involved. While MONUC operations were lower down in the spectrum of conflict, in terms of intensity and suicidal motivation of the militia, possibility of a debilitating attack on assets on ground was never far away.

    IAC locations at Bukavu and Bunia (Ituri) were well away from population centres. Surrounded by UNPK troops, obstacles, concertina wires, watchtowers, lights and early warning systems, they had depth due to at least two to three tiers of protection. Unfortunately, in the case of Goma in North Kivu, the centre of gravity of MONUC operations, there was no luxury of choosing the right location. The solidified lava flow of the active volcano Mount Niyragongo and restricted parking area just adjacent to the city’s main road meant that every rule in preventive or pre- emptive force protection had to be thrown to the winds. To compensate, an aggressive deployment of Indian troops (armed to the teeth) and a no-nonsense posturing was adopted. Also, following measures, among others, contributed to the overall security and a track-record of no damage ever to static helicopters and their infrastructure.

    1.Floodlights focused on key areas with careful attention to location/height and possible interference with other devices.

    2.Fortified walls and wire fences were augmented by watchtowers and patrolling.

    3.Perimeter security was a combination of sensors (night vision goggles), warning devices and frequent patrols by dedicated teams. The composition of the patrol team and their backpack and mobile communication was a priority as they would have to be the first to neutralise a potential developing threat.

    4.The people of surrounding villages and areas were cultivated and kept under continuous surveillance. This was actually a key area.

    Personnel and officers charged with security were required to critically review all the existing mechanisms to revalidate their strength and identify weak links. A good mix of technology, intelligence and analysis, training, well-rehearsed procedures and robust physical security allowed for even a determined attack to be thwarted in the early stages of formation. Surprisingly, the UN, while compensating for injuries/death of troops, offers no liability to combat losses to air assets on ground or in the air. In other words, since these military machines cannot be insured, the entire risk of damages/shoot-down falls on the aviation-contributing country. This is a lacuna that the UN HQ has to resolve if it looks forward to professional air power in peacekeeping.

    Unique Constraints

    There were other unique operational challenges too, including lack of clear distinction lines between actors, existence of multiple armed groups with varying goals and culture, criminalisation of politics for greed and profit, wide-ranging strategies of various actors and targeting of civilians as a norm of the conflict rather than an exception. This melting pot of diversity was further complicated by multiple international actors and relief agencies, along with their own diverse agendas. The lack of resources in terms of manpower (quantity and quality), specialist units (engineers, medics, special forces, interpreters), armoured personnel carriers, helicopters, UAVs, etc., were all real constraints in the vast expanses of the Congo. Neglect of infrastructure, such as roads, rail and communication, was a method of poor and manipulated governance that allowed unhindered exploitation for more than a century. In fact, the number of advance landing grounds available was only indicative of the exploitation carried out by light airplanes. The only way MONUC could develop any credible presence and deterrence was by adding mobility and firepower to the meagre strength of ground troops. First-class professional aviators and machines of the IACs provided this critical capability, which was to prove as an enabler and force multiplier in the next eight years.

    A larger issue was the bureaucratic wheels of the UN systems at New York which could not respond in time to critical assessments of unfolding crises. For example, the Ituri problem in 2003, the crisis in Bukavu in 2004 and the Goma situation in 2006 and 2008 were all foreseen and additional resources were asked for by MONUC. However, in all cases, the clearance and cumbersome deployments happened only after the worst was over. It was quite evident during these eight years that the mandate of wholesome civilian protection from even imminent harm (the core objective) was way beyond the means at hand. Repeatedly, as in the case of fall of Bukavu in 2004, even where the numbers were there, the training, will and indoctrination of troops showed up extremely poorly. In the same crisis, despite the town falling to the rebels for loot, plunder and rape, the only shots fired by the entire UN Brigade of South Kivu were by IAC Mi-25s only.

    Even at the mission level, there were problems of bureaucratic inertia and lag. High-tempo operations involving the use of military aircraft, night operations, special forces, attack helicopters, operations with multinational composite units at battalion level with a Chapter VII mandate, all required flexibility in logistics procedures, flight safety rules and aviation regulations. The UN Department of Flight Safety (DFS) had stringent rules for flight safety and operations based more on civil airlines’ code of customer-safety first. Therefore, procedures were very inflexible and most of the time, virtually impossible to change.7 Troop- contributing country rules, for example, IAF rules, could have truly added more teeth and punch; however, DFS and civilian actors could not be swayed. This did not bode well for a military operational tasking whose key characteristics were flexibility, rapid response and adaptability to fast-changing situations.

    Tactical Imperatives

    Deterrence

    Any deterrence cannot be based primarily of rapid reaction teams organised at certain bases. All fielded units need to possess capacities to deter any mischief or trial of strength by belligerents. Peacekeeping inevitably consists of sudden and unpredictable situations that, if uncontrolled, spiral to higher-order effects. Therefore, UN units on the ground must be attuned to the mentality of lower-level belligerent commanders, who often act on their own. Till the Indian troops arrived, this was lacking in North and South Kivu initially, and had to be compensated by on-call helicopter support, an expensive proposition in itself. However, the Ituri Brigade with mostly South Asian troops learnt its lessons faster and improved on this.

    Control

    Field experience informs that UN tactical field units and other agencies should have higher protection, mobility and firepower capacities than usual infantry battalions. While there are distinct situations where house- to-house searches and intensive foot patrols require infantry soldiers, and because peace operations are dispersed and generally of lighter weight in numbers, the ability to quickly withdraw or redeploy infantry is essential. Thus, troop transport and helicopter support need to be organic to all tactical units. For example, MONUC’s DDRRR campaign started in December 2001 and required tremendous support by the IAC helicopters because of the extremely hostile and unpredictable environment, and the complete lack of roads. DDRRR was targeted at members of foreign armed groups, including Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Rwanda (FDLR) and Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA).

    Another problem of control in the DRC was the many unregistered aeroplanes flying around carrying, among other things, illegal arms and ammunition. This was probably the most difficult monitoring task of the military. The area to cover was vast and without roads; and constraints of manpower and equipment aggravated the problem of surveillance. For example, a cache of arms seized in Beni during August 2003 was only because the pilot ran out of luck with the weather and fuel. It led to better coordination and synergising of information from remote airfields at UN nodal points. The plan incorporated quick reporting and response by MONUC, mostly by helicopters.

    Elections in 2006 were a litmus test of MONUC’s control over the peace process. In addition to the primary function of supporting the MONUC mandate, IACs provided support to the electoral process. As the Independent Electoral Commission (IEC) had insufficient assets to manage such a complex operation, MONUC Aviation Section provided logistical support for voter registration, the referendum and both rounds of the elections. The electoral process was extensive and covered over 200 electoral sites across the DRC by air, enabling almost 18 million Congolese to exercise their right to vote in the first round of the elections. While all 11 Mi-17s were pooled in for this huge logistics exercise, Mi-35s provided the necessary deterrent strength in troublesome areas.

    IAC Helicopters in Combat

    Defence

    At a tactical level, defensive combat includes planned withdrawal to better positions under covering screens, etc. Defence of safe havens may also require forward screens, which are enabled by artillery and troops deployed by helicopter units. Rescuing besieged UN or Congolese Army units happened quite regularly in Ituri. However, at least in the initial few years, calls for attack helicopter support were more due to a lack of will to suffer causalities on ground.

    Combat

    Since consent and pre-agreed manoeuvre are the bottom-line in an UN operation, there has to be care and due consideration before military units are given any freedom to tactically engage.8 Inevitably this means that UN forces do not have the leeway of being proactive and surprise the ‘enemy’. Both attack and troop helicopters helped in alleviating this gap, giving some semblance of a ‘surprise’ capacity. In the DRC, fortunately, all belligerent groups had such poor records in terms of atrocities on civilians that it was easier to take for granted populace consent and resort to force whenever required.

    A good example is the crisis around Goma, DRC, in 2006. On

    26 November 2006, in Sake, 25 kilometres from Goma, MONUC established a security cordon to halt the advance of renegade Congolese Brigades (the 81st and 83rd) led by General Nkunda who decided to attack Goma. But they were in for a surprise with night-attack enabled helicopters ready for them. Mi-35 helicopters flew the first helicopter night-attack sorties in MONUC’s experience. IAC helicopters, equipped with advanced night-vision devices, spotted the attackers in the pre- dawn, distinguished them from friendly forces and then played a major role in the ensuing fight.

    With the imminent threat of Goma falling to rebels, IAC Firebirds (Mi-35s) were tasked to spearhead the defence of this strategic town and HQ of North Kivu Brigade. The ensuing operations saw the attack helicopters in action incessantly, by day and night, for four days. In the face of a sustained fire by rebels with small arms, mortars and RPGs, they successfully engaged the militia and their command centres with rockets and guns. This timely and effective attack crippled the rebel assault and resulted in securing Goma and regaining control of Sake. The militia could not use tree cover, or other terrain masking, to obscure themselves from the foliage-penetrating Mi-35 FLIR cameras. Soon, the UN and Congolese government forces regained control of the town of Sake, with no dead or wounded from MONUC’s side, and displaced civilians of the town began to return.

    A contrary example is from 2008 in DRC. Nkunda’s troops created another crisis in their efforts to expand influence in the Kivu by threatening Goma again. In spite of efforts to integrate the rebels or National Congress for the Defence of the People (CNDP) into the Congolese Army, Nkunda attempted to create serious disruption. MONUC was supporting a badly led and ill-disciplined FARDC. When Nkunda’s troops pushed in the end of October 2008, it looked as if neither the FARDC nor MONUC could hold them off. IAC attack helicopters were very robustly used against CNDP, but FARDC units broke down completely. After hectic diplomatic parleys with Rwanda and threat of a European Union (EU) deployment, Nkunda declared a ceasefire on 29 October 2008.

    MONUC did not utilise its forces efficiently, with nearly 4,000 of the mission’s 17,000 troops in the immediate conflict zone and only 800 in Goma. It could have, with foresight, redeployed units that were idle all across the DRC. Interestingly, despite written and other frantic parleys by the Secretary-General himself, no North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) or EU forces deployed in the manner of Operation Artemis in 2003. The mission and UN came in for heavy criticism for failure to protect civilians. Excuses galore followed blaming faulty ROEs, UN Mandate, lack of will among UN leadership and poor military cohesion between different forces. However, it seemed to be more a case of justifying the non-deployment of the EU’s Battlegroup (rapid reaction).

    Uniqueness of the IACs

    In many visits by dignitaries over the years to IACs, an often-asked query was on how did the IACs manage to standout with their professionalism, good and balanced risk-taking abilities and commitment to the cause (UNPK) despite, what others interpreted as, flawed mandates? How was it that in crisis after crisis—Ituri, 2003–05; Bukavu, 2004; Goma, 2006; Kivus, 2008–09—IAC helicopters stood out as role models of ‘robust’ peacekeeping, while other contingents were reluctant to engage aggressively? This point was driven home during the visit of the UN Best Practices Section to India in 2010. Also, during the Indo-US Joint Working Group on Peacekeeping meeting in March 2011, the United States (US) Additional Secretary co-chairing the meet openly expressed the same observations. They were all keen that the IAF share its ‘trade secrets’ with other aviation contributors. The reasons were multiple, but some issues do stand out.

    A long and varied COIN operational experience at home had given a firm foundation to IAF helicopter pilots towards aspects such as the ‘larger’ political picture in COIN, the dire necessity to reduce collateral and civilian deaths and an understanding of peacebuilding issues and their importance. In the eight years in the DRC, there was not a single case of collateral damage despite innumerable occasions when attack helicopters had to open fire. A total of 2,100 rockets (57 millimetre [mm]) and 1,680 rounds of 23/12.7mm front gun rounds were expended in MONUC by the IACs. This not only called for a good mix of aggressive ‘robustness’ but also a deeper understanding of issues involved so that there were no ‘trigger-happy’ issues.

    All commanding officers led from the front by being in the thick of things themselves. This set the tone and culture for professional combat attitudes. Admittedly, with only IAF officers in the cockpit, there was a higher intelligence and maturity gradient compared to ground troops. Ultimately, what set apart Indian aviators was careful selection (India has always sent its best to UNPK) and thorough training back home. While supervisors had tremendous experience and good track records, younger ones were chosen for their skill and maturity levels. Compare this with some countries who recruited people for UN duties only three months before deployment in MONUC and that too from the civil street! The official term used for such troops was ‘reservists’.

    India’s core commitment to peace and the UN does define the overall frame. There were no hidden ‘national’ agendas and the bottomline was, ‘go do a good job’. Decision-makers in the contingents were encouraged to take well-calculated professional risks, and one knew that the IAF would stand by the decisions. This was in complete reversal of the UN mindset, especially civilians who were in the driving seat, whose major and primary thought was self-preservation. Self-defence as a sole motive stood out rather glaringly exposed during the Bukavu crisis in 2004. The only actions ordered and executed were those that protected the UN Brigade HQ and the UN staff. In fact, except by the Mi-25 on two occasions, not one shot was fired in defence of the town which was plundered for almost a week.

    Pre-deployment flying and firing training was mandatory where all SOPs were revised. Currency training and range work by Mi-25 aircrew in the mission was demanded from the UN as a prerequisite for armed employment. Despite several hurdles and attempts to stall by the civilian- dominated aviation set-up in Kinshasa, persistence paid off and they were able to hone their skills and, more importantly, accuracies to ensure that ‘costly’ mistakes did not happen. While precision missiles were available, the UN did not want to use them until the chips were really down. More importantly, MILOBs of various nationalities were rigorously trained by IACs in the nuances of calling-in and directing attack helicopter. This at least helped in better situational awareness of the Mi-35 crew. Inevitably, pilots resorted to close-by warning shots before unleashing their real capabilities.

    Targeting policy was complicated not only because of the poor quality of intelligence and analysis but also due to inept control and direction from the ground. Many of the MILOBs and ground contingent officers had never handled offensive air power. While the elaborate and painstaking training imparted by IACs helped, it could not replicate real-life experiences. This void had to be catered to by Mi-25 pilots on mission. A procedure of double verification through dummy runs was required to ensure correct hits. This at times took away the advantage of surprise, and at times led to unintended consequences, such as the helicopter receiving AK-47 bullet holes (Ituri in 2004). Air-to-ground radio contact was mandatory when UN troops called in for airstrikes. On-board recording facilities ensured that necessary evidence to that effect was available in case of future allegations and inquiries. These measures allowed pilots to do what was needed to be done after SOPs had been followed.

    It was important not to get deterred by hits on helicopters in terms of signalling intent. In fact, every hit was followed by suitable retribution on the correctly identified group and in a measured manner. This gave ‘credibility’ to the capability and mindset of IAC pilots, especially in the psyche of various militia groups. There were also hints of sources leaking out flying programmes and critical information to blunt an attack’s effectiveness. Unfortunately, the UN’s bureaucratic set-up had no answer or way out of this. However, pilots innovated and a covert system evolved to hoodwink everyone, UN and militia included. Very significantly, as firepower and mobility providers, IAC insisted that it be an integral part of the conceptualising, planning and execution of the ‘integrated’ peace initiatives. After initial hesitancy, and especially after the dependency on air power had set in, this was institutionalised. Multiple actors, even non-governmental organisations (NGOs), greatly benefited from this contextual understanding of the ground situation by aircrew of IACs.

    Operation Artemis: A Comparison

    In the second quarter of 2003, after a series of strategic and tactical mistakes by MONUC and UN HQ, a situation of near-genocide magnitude arose with well-armed UN contingents still three months away from deployment. Ituri, and in specific Bunia, was up in flames fluctuating between Lendu and Hema-initiated atrocities. The UN Secretary-General, Kofi Annan, requested France to lead a multinational force to stabilise the crisis. EU saw this as an opportunity to showcase its intervention powers. Operation Artemis had 2,088 troops of which 1,785 were French. The United Kingdom (UK), Belgium and Sweden were the only other EU members to make troop contributions of any size and Brazil sent a few helicopters. Artemis was a short-term success, stabilising the key town of Bunia while taking no casualties.9

    While this was a cheap advertisement for European unity and military efficiency, the mission under Chapter VII had huge flaws. Artemis had clear goals and a clear timeframe. The IEMF was ruthless and decisive with the help of snipers, machine guns on Gazelle helicopters and Mirage-2000 fighter jets. Anyone with a gun or a threatening posture in Bunia was eliminated. The commander, Brigadier General Jean Paul Thonier, saw his mandate did not include stripping the militias of their guns, venturing outside the city or getting in the middle of gun battles. Separating the factions was not the mandate, but that was the core challenge being put off. The mandate only required that it provide protection for the civilians remaining in the internally displaced camps around Bunia, and IEMF were to intervene to restore security in case of an outbreak of violence there.

    Larger issues were put on hold, such as stabilisation of whole of Ituri under stricter and more accountable UN ROE and bureaucratic control. There was the onerous task to monitor both the borders for nefarious activity by Uganda and Rwanda. Another task was cutting off the arms flow to Ituri, which was a central element to the pacification process. As long as different militias were able to obtain cheap weapons from private means (an AK-47 sold for US $30–$50 in the Bunia market) or from foreign backers, the conflict would fester. There were six to eight known roads, four Lake Albert delivery sites and a dozen airstrips through which weapons suppliers were delivering their cargo. These tasks, including the whole painstaking process of counter-militia action (DDRRR, CIMIC, etc.), were carried out by the Ituri Brigade with South Asian troops and Indian attack helicopters very successfully in the subsequent months and years. Documented successful operations in Ituri, where violence levels, risks and conduct of combat under UN rules stand out in contrast to Western interventions, clearly bring out the difference in approaches.

    A similar request by UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon to NATO/ EU in end-2008 during the Goma crisis did not materialise. The options in Goma were risky—a proposal to use a small EU force to secure Goma airfield, but the danger was that European forces could easily have been dragged into an open-ended wider conflict, with attendant casualties. Despite the let-down by EU, MONUC (Indian Brigade) managed and the crisis was tided over. It seemed as if the SRSG and other civilians had a preference for EU intervention, even if in reality it contributed little to the actual processes.

    A true analysis of the Ituri crisis after the temporary and fierce clampdown by the IEMF will clearly highlight the tremendous contribution of South Asian contingents in general, and IAC-1 in particular. Similarly, General Isberg was an utter failure in Bukavu in 2003, yet this reality does not get reflected in the report. Quite often, his only orders were for Mi-25s to open fire, without taking responsibility for what could follow! Therefore, it would be quite naïve to assume UNPK is about noble aims and lofty ideals; the reality is quite hard-hitting. While today it may seem wishful thinking, in light of the joint operations in the Congo, a South Asian partnership in UNPKs could indeed be very potent in times to come.

    Analysing Robustness in Peacekeeping

    Use of Force

    Debates over the use of force within the UN have frequently served as a proxy for other issues. For example, in Bosnia, reluctance to use military force was a cover for disagreements among the major powers about their objectives and the continuing absence of a coherent policy towards the conflict itself. Dissecting UNPK experiences of the post- Cold War period, some specialists conclude that the use of force by UN peacekeepers has been marked by political controversy, doctrinal and conceptual confusion and failure in the field.

    According to Simon Chesterman, the reluctance of the UN to effectively use force in peacekeeping flows out from its wrong lessons learnt in three interventions, i.e., DR Congo (1960–63), Somalia (1993) and Bosnia (1994–95).10 This was as it transitioned hesitatingly from the concept of self-defence to defence of the mission. In fact, UN directions in 1995 clearly showed the confusion that self-defence might encourage UN forces to open fire in a wide variety of situations.11

    Trevor Findlay, one among many critics of the UN’s hesitancy in using timely and appropriate force, advocated a newer doctrine to balance effectiveness and own vulnerability. His study includes detailed analysis of case studies such as Bosnia and Somalia which brings out that timing is all important in stopping a cascade effect to build up.12 But as evident in most instances, debates and prolonged deliberations are proxies for other underlying agendas. Susan Woodward explains this in her book Balkan Tragedy, where the hesitation to use force was actually a cover non-alignment of differing national objectives.13

    According to a popular view, the Secretariat, which survived the Cold War with gifted amateurism, is regularly stretched beyond its capacity. Force commanders, on whom much has depended (a fall guy), have sometimes been chosen with higher regard for nationality than for military competence. This criticism may equally be levelled at SRSG. Peacekeepers themselves have been inconsistent in their actual use of force, though by and large they have been extremely reticent about using any force at all.14

    Coercion and Consent

    Peacekeeping is a matter of consent rather than coercion; of political processes rather than force. However, robust peacekeeping increases the control of area of operations where a crisis is taking place and protects those involved in the peace process. Neither imposing by force nor yielding to force, but protecting and persuading is the ethos of robust peacekeeping. IACs in Congo demonstrated this quite effectively. Time and again, this has been acknowledged at every level of the UN system and by delegations from the US, the EU, etc. In fact, these outfits have been held as role models in their action and conduct in robust peacekeeping.

    Notwithstanding performances of the IACs, UNPK has weaknesses at every level of its implementation of action: tactical, operational and strategic. Vulnerable civil population, legality and morality issues of those protecting them, and lack of political will and decisiveness of UN leadership are some of these. The physical vulnerability at the tactical level is a core issue since weak states are less able to guarantee and back up their consent. Nowhere was this demonstrated more vividly than in MONUC in 2003. Chapters VI and VII of the UN Charter give out the political and military procedures for UN involvement in a conflict management situation. Chapter VI establishes a means for dialogue and, if the situation becomes threatening, Chapter VII guides the military action.15

    Both are complementary in spirit, and the wording of one does not exclude the other. Over time and especially in the post-Cold War period, the idea that peacekeeping operations should not use force, except in exercising the right of self-defence, had become doctrinal. After the failures in Somalia and Yugoslavia, the UN tried to convince member states that this limitation only existed under Chapter VI of the Charter, but Chapter VII gave permission to go further in the use of force. A legally wrong practice of ‘robust under Chapter VII’ and ‘others under Chapter VI’ came into being. There is no basis for pleading the distinction between peacekeeping and coercion in the differences between these two chapters. In fact, peacekeeping is not referred to in either of them. It has emerged from the spirit of Chapter VI, but it is only in Chapter VII that the tools of force that it uses are considered.

    Chapter VIII of the UN Charter allows the existence of regional arrangements to deal with maintenance of international peace and security. For example, the African Union’s Organisation of African Unity (OAU) can establish own missions but enforcement action needs authorisation by the Security Council.

    Key Objectives

    Peacekeeping does not actively seek combat for conflict resolution, but it often has to resort to it for self-defence and, in robust situations, to support its action plan of intervention. While resorting to force, certain limitations must be understood. First, peacekeepers must not fail or even seem to fail. As such, robust action is one of the last acts in the play; after that, there may be no other recourse left. The entire international action will have a question mark over it. Somalia is a case in point.

    Second, collateral damage to the population and fratricide among different national contingents can easily and gravely dent or even wipe out the painstaking work done in the field. Third, use of force has to be calibrated in a manner that there is sufficient control to pause, stop or pace the action by higher decision-makers. Unlike conventional wars of attrition where the aim is to destroy all capability of the opposing side, avenues for negotiation and exit routes must be always available to all actors. Not having this option can send the situation into an ever- increasing spiral of confrontation.

    While the objectives are not to be necessarily achieved by force, a critical requirement for the force on ground is to have the freedom to act in accordance with the mandate. Strictly speaking, the larger political aims of the mandate require control over the crisis area, and this can only happen if the force in being is intact and retains its capabilities. Therefore, robustness in operations must have some primary objectives, for example:

    1.The first is the physical safety of the operations, including all those that the UN involves in the process, equipment and support infrastructure.

    2.The ROE must be well thought out so that a holistic legal protection is accorded to the robust process. There is also a great moral risk involved when actions of peacekeepers can actually result in greater danger to civilians. This happened in the Congo after the Kimia series of operations by FARDC, supported by MONUC. Legal backing, especially when things go awry, is critical.

    3.Area control encompasses force interposition, interdiction of areas, protection of the population, prevention and pre-emption of outbreaks of violence, movement and access control, etc.

    4.Participating lightly armed or unarmed observers and troops need to be protected at all costs.

    At the theatre level, shortage of forces allows only a weak deterrence posture to belligerents. A case existed for use of pre-emptive and proactive force in the former Yugoslavia, Afghanistan, Sierra Leone and even Ituri in the DRC. While it is politically difficult for the UN to punish acts of aggression, it has to find ways of preventing them. Unarmed observers and lightly armed interposition units in danger have to be protected from those who threaten them. Peacekeepers existing as rapid reaction reserves only will inevitably reveal the limitations of the force. IACs provided this capability in the DRC in terms of aerial mobility and firepower as quick reaction and deterrence.

    Operational Hazards

    There are some noticeable threats and weaknesses in the approach to robustness. Some are unaccounted landmines, crossfire between warring factions, intimidation acts and even kidnapping. Then there are direct threats such as random firing, car bombs and explosives, and ambushes. The easy availability of weapons, IEDs, RPGs and others has increased the threat to life and limb of peacekeepers. Some peacekeepers from poorer countries lack training, indoctrination, skills and aptitude to handle such complex operations. Even if the UN provides sophisticated equipment, they are not able to use it due to poor educational background. The training and military experience of peacekeepers vary—for example, from India and those from Uruguay—and consequently their ability to tackle difficult situations.

    Decisions on what equipment is to be used are mostly based on UN budget and not necessarily on mission needs. Contributing countries receive compensation and in order to economise, reduced scales are ordered. For example, battalion-sized contingents were authorised to bring not more than 15 armoured personnel carriers to Bosnia, which ultimately proved grossly inadequate. Certain contributing countries may have unresolved issues between them. These issues permeate their military that are trained to treat each other as adversaries. When these contingents are called upon to perform a joint task under the UN banner, distrust naturally sets in and affects the efficiency of the operations as a whole. Surprisingly, South Asians were an exception to this observation while on UNPK duties, at least in DRC.

    Recommendation

    Area or perimeter control of a crisis area needs to be taken on as a prerequisite to stabilising a crisis situation. Since manpower is not unlimited, the Department of Peacekeeping Operations needs to invest in technology. A mission to protect has to have intervention capabilities with required sustenance. Without this, the deterrence value of accountability and retribution will not be credible. UNPK should be thinking of networking in real-time encrypted operational data, which when combined with rapid-reaction capability will enhance intervention. Quite obviously, an information and media plan with sufficient funding needs to be part of this area control strategy. Taking cue from the tragedies of Rwanda and former Yugoslavia, where media had a major role in inciting and organising ethnic cleansing, active control of information must form part of the arsenal to manage crises.

    Intelligence collection and analysis suffers at the ground level because of excessive requirements of transparency by the UN, which needs balancing with the military need for security of tactical information. Under Chapter VII, UNPK is akin to low-scale conventional conflict among two well-armed foes; and a principle of war is protecting information to achieve surprise or reduce one’s own vulnerability. Today, technology allows a better mix and match of these two conflicting requirements.

    Conclusion

    This article has attempted to draw important lessons of air power employment in UNPK, based on the unique Indian experience in DRC (2003–2010). Indian Armed Forces have a long and credible record of success in COIN, which includes employment of air power, since independence. It all started with the famous Dakota sorties to J&K in 1947, which were game changers that saved the state. Indian air power has had a mixed record when operating under the UN flag, for example, Congo, Somalia and Sierra Leone. The most successful forays abroad have been the IACs from 2003 to 2010.

    The article starts with encapsulating the Indian concept of air power employment as a model that clarifies main actions and interlinks them.

    It is a simplified model to understand the complexities involved. Actual COIN is far more complex, with many higher-degree effects and after- effects that force adaptation at all levels. The article then moves to the actual mandate of MONUC, which evidently seems to be a tall order, and perhaps undoable. In fact, till date, these lofty objectives have not been met.

    A practitioner’s look at operational challenges brings out the vast scope and multiple variables that posed serious constraints for the mission. These include environment threats, force protection and other unique DRC-specific considerations. Tactical imperatives, namely, deterrence and control, have also been studied with examples from the deployment. Keeping all these in mind, the article then explores as to why IACs’ ‘robustness in peacekeeping’ was unique. Examples from combat and defensive tasks bring out that prior experience and skills of aircrew, a larger Indian ethos of ethical conduct and ‘jugaad’ of circumventing UN bureaucracy contributed largely to its success. A comparison with the earlier EU Operation Artemis brings out the stark differences in levels of commitment to civilian protection in such missions.

    It then goes on to analyse the reasons for non-robustness on ground by many nations, including complexities such as differences in perception of use of force, coercion and consent, key objectives and risk assessments. Some recommendations are made that can contribute to enhancing civilian protection in UNPK, especially in areas of force protection, networking and intelligence collection/dissemination.

    Improving Civilian Protection Strategies

    The duty to protect needs to be the main criterion rather than self- defence. At the same time, resources and capabilities should be sufficient to handle all contingencies and adverse fallouts of a robust and decisive posture.16 A force that cannot survive or act freely will not be able to protect. Therefore, crafting of a reasonable, correct and doable mandate is the key. It also supposes that at the strategic level, mechanisms and procedures exist that allow deployments and reaction to any grave risks a mission’s peacekeepers may face.

    Notes

    1.This is based on the numerous reports from the offices of Special Representative of the Secretary-General (SRSG), Force Commander and others of United Nations Organization Mission in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (MONUC) during the stay. For example, in 2003–04, it was only Indian attack helicopters that opened fire while entire MONUC land forces stood by undecided and paralysed. Many official reports at Air Headquarters (HQ) cite these, but are not available in the open domain.

    2.Subir Bhaumik, ‘Insurgencies in India’s Northeast: Conflict, Co-option, and Change’, Working Paper No. 10, East-West Center, Washington, July 2007; and Praveen Swami, ‘For a Review of Counterinsurgency Doctrine’, The Hindu, 13 April 2010, available at http://www.thehindu.com, accessed on 30 December 2020.

    3.Sanjay Barbora, ‘Rethinking India’s Counterinsurgency Campaign in the Northeast’, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. 41, No. 35, 2006; and S.P. Sinha, ‘Counterinsurgency Operations in Northeast—I’, Indian Defence Review, 5 June 2011, available at http://www.indiandefencereview.com, accessed on 30 December 2020.

    4.Rajesh Isser, The Purple Legacy: IAF Helicopters in Service of the Nation,

    New Delhi: Pentagon Press, 2012, pp. 234–268.

    5.The entire orders given next flow almost verbatim from the directives of the MONUC SRSG and Force Commander in 2003, which was put into the report to Air HQ by the author. It may be found in MONUC Archives.

    6.Rajesh Isser, Protection of Civilians: IAF Helicopters in the Congo, New

    Delhi: KW Publishers Pvt. Ltd, 2012, p. 89.

    7.MONUC Aviation Section at UN website details these very inflexible rules framework, which mostly enables a tail-clear/no-responsibility attitude.

    8.J.M. Guéhenno, ‘Robust Peacekeeping: Building Political Consensus and Strengthening Command and Control in Robust Peacekeeping’, in Robust Peacekeeping: The Politics of Force, New York: Center of International Cooperation, November 2009, pp. 7–11.

    9.UN, Operation Artemis: The Lessons of the Interim Emergency Multinational Force, Peacekeeping Best Practices Unit, Military Division, UN, October 2004, available at www.un.org, accessed on 25 October 2020.

    10.Simon Chesterman, You, The People: The United Nations, Transitional Administration, and State-Building, Oxford University Press, 2004.

    11.UN Department of Peacekeeping Operations, General Guidelines for Peacekeeping Operations, UN Doc UN/210/TC/GG95 (October 1995), available at http://www.un.org/Depts/dpko/training, p. 20, accessed on 20 December 2020.

    12.Trevor Findlay, The Use of Force in UN Peace Operations, Oxford: SIPRI & Oxford University Press, 2002, pp. 223, 271.

    13.Susan L. Woodward, Balkan Tragedy: Chaos and Dissolution After the Cold

    War, Washington, DC: Brookings Institution, 1995, p. 378.

    14.P. Sartre, Making UN Peacekeeping More Robust: Protecting the Mission,

    Persuading the Actors, New York: International Peace Institute, July 2011.

    15.UN Department of Peacekeeping Operations, ‘General Guidelines for Peacekeeping Operations’, UN Doc UN/210/TC/GG95, October 1995, available at www.un.org, accessed on 20 October 2020.

    16.UN, Report of the Panel on United Nations Peace Operations [Brahimi Report], UN Doc. A/55/305/-S/2000/809, 21 August 2000, accessed on 25 October 2020.

    Air Vice Marshal Rajesh Isser (Retd) is an IAF veteran with combat experience in Kargil War, DR Congo (UNPK), Siachen Glacier and IPKF (Sri Lanka). As Director, Net Assessment at HQIDS, he has coordinated and authored many national projects.

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