Page 1 of 2 A lesson in imperial paranoia
By Juan Cole
WHAT, what, what,
What's the news from Swat?
Sad news,
Bad news,
Comes by the cable led
Through the Indian Ocean's bed,
Through the Persian Gulf, the Red
Sea and the Med-
Iterranean - he 's dead;
The Ahkoond is dead!
- George Thomas Lanigan, Canadian-born journalist and
humorist (1845–86).
Despite being among the poorest people in the world, the inhabitants of the
craggy northwest of what is now Pakistan have managed to throw a series of
frights into distant Western capitals
for more than a century. That's certainly one for the record books.
And it hasn't ended yet. Not by a long shot. Not with the headlines in the US
papers about the depredations of the Pakistani Taliban, not with the Central
Intelligence Agency's Predator drone aircraft striking gatherings in the
Pakistani Waziristan tribal areas and elsewhere near the Afghan border. This
spring, for instance, one counter-terrorism analyst stridently (and wholly
implausibly) warned that "in one to six months" we could "see the collapse of
the Pakistani state", at the hands of the bloodthirsty Taliban, while Secretary
of State Hillary Clinton called the situation in Pakistan a "mortal danger" to
global security.
What most observers don't realize is that the doomsday rhetoric about this
region at the top of the world is hardly new. It's at least 100 years old.
During their campaigns in the northwest in the late 19th and early 20th
centuries, British officers, journalists and editorialists sounded much like
American strategists, analysts, and pundits of the present moment. They
construed the Pashtun tribesmen who inhabited Waziristan as the new Normans, a
dire menace to London that threatened to overturn the British Empire.
The young Winston S Churchill even wrote a book in 1898, The Story of the
Malakand Field Force, about a late-19th-century British campaign in
Pashtun territory, based on his earlier journalism there. At that time, London
ruled British India, comprising all of what is now India, Bangladesh and
Pakistan, but the British hold on the mountainous northwestern region abutting
Afghanistan and the Himalayas was tenuous.
In trying to puzzle out - like modern analysts - why the predecessors of the
Pakistani Taliban posed such a huge challenge to empire, Churchill singled out
two reasons for the martial prowess of those Pashtun tribesmen. One was Islam,
of which he wrote, "That religion, which above all others was founded and
propagated by the sword - the tenets and principles of which are instinct with
incentives to slaughter and which in three continents has produced fighting
breeds of men - stimulates a wild and merciless fanaticism."
Churchill actually revealed his prejudices here. In fact, for the most part,
Islam spread peacefully in what is now Pakistan, by the preaching and poetry of
mystical Sufi leaders, and most Muslims have not been more warlike in history
than, for example, Anglo-Saxons.
For his second reason, he settled on the environment in which those tribesmen
were supposed to thrive. "The inhabitants of these wild but wealthy valleys"
are, he explained, in "a continual state of feud and strife". In addition, he
insisted, they were early adopters of military technology, so that their
weapons were not as primitive as was common among other "races" at what he
referred to as "their stage" of development.
"To the ferocity of the Zulu are added the craft of the Redskin and the
marksmanship of the Boer," he warned.
In these tribesmen, he concluded, "the world is presented with that grim
spectacle, the strength of civilization without its mercy". The Pashtun were,
he added, excellent marksmen, who could fell the unwary Westerner with a
state-of-the-art breech-loading rifle.
"His assailant, approaching, hacks him to death with the ferocity of a South
Sea Islander. The weapons of the 19th century are in the hands of the savages
of the Stone Age."
Ironically, given Churchill's description of them, when four decades later the
Pashtuns joined the freedom movement against British rule that led to the
formation of independent Pakistan and India in 1947, politicized Pashtuns were
notable not for savagery but for joining Mahatma Gandhi's campaign of
non-violent non-cooperation.
Nevertheless, the Churchillian image of primitive, fanatical brutality armed
with cutting-edge technology, which singled Pashtuns out as an extraordinary
peril to the West, survived the Victorian era and has now made it into the
headlines of our own newspapers.
Bruce Riedel, a former Central Intelligence Agency analyst, was tasked by the
Obama administration with evaluating security threats in Afghanistan and
Pakistan. Arnaud de Borchgrave of the Washington Times reported breathlessly on
July 17 that Riedel had concluded:
A jihadi victory in Pakistan,
meaning the takeover of the nation by a militant Sunni movement led by the
Taliban ... would create the greatest threat the United States has yet to face
in its war on terror ... [and] is now a real possibility in the foreseeable
future.
The article, in true Churchillian fashion, is entitled "'Armageddon' alarm bell
rings".
In fact, few intelligence predictions could have less chance of coming true. In
the 2008 parliamentary election, the Pakistani public voted in centrist
parties, some of them secular, virtually ignoring the Muslim fundamentalist
parties. Today in Pakistan, there are about 24 million Pashtuns, a linguistic
ethnic group that speaks Pashto. Another 13 million live across the
British-drawn "Durand Line", the border - mostly unacknowledged by Pashtuns -
between Pakistan and southern Afghanistan. Most Taliban derive from this group,
but the vast majority of Pashtuns are not Taliban and do not much care for the
Muslim radicals.
The Taliban force that was handily defeated this spring by the Pakistani army
in a swift campaign in the Swat Valley in the North-West Frontier Province,
amounted to a mere 4,000 men. The Pakistani military is 550,000 strong and has
a similar number of reservists. It has tanks, artillery, and fighter jets.
The Taliban's appeal is limited to that country's Pashtun ethnic group, about
14% of the population and, from everything we can tell, it has a minority taste
even among them. The Taliban can commit terrorism and destabilize, but they
cannot take over the Pakistani government.
Some Western analysts worry that the Taliban could unite with disgruntled
junior officers of the Pakistani army, who could come to power in a putsch and
so offer their Taliban allies access to sophisticated weaponry. Successful
Pakistani coups, however, have been made by the chief of staff at the top, not
by junior officers, since the military is quite disciplined. Far from
coup-making to protect the Taliban, the military has actually spent the past
year fighting hard against them in the Federally Administered Tribal Area of
Bajaur and more recently in Swat.
Today's fantasy of a nuclear-armed Taliban is the modern equivalent of
Churchill's anxiety about those all-conquering, ultramodern Pashtun riflemen
with the instincts of savages.
Frontier ward and watch
On a recent research trip to the India Office archives in London, to plunge
into British military memoirs of the Waziristan campaigns in the first half of
the twentieth century, I was overcome by a vivid sense of deja vu. The British
in India fought three wars with Afghanistan, losing the first two decisively,
and barely achieving a draw in the third in 1919. Among the Afghan king
Amanullah's demands during the third war were that the Pashtun tribes of the
frontier be allowed to give him their fealty and that Britain permit
Afghanistan to conduct a sovereign foreign policy. He lost on the first demand,
but won on the second and soon signed a treaty of friendship with the newly
established Soviet Union.
Disgruntled Pashtun tribes in Waziristan, a no-man's land sandwiched between
the Afghan border and the formal boundary of the British-ruled North-West
Frontier Province, preferred Kabul's rule to that of London, and launched their
own attacks on the British, beginning in 1919. Putting down the rebellious
Wazir and Mahsud tribes of this region would, in the end, cost imperial
Britain's treasury three times as much as had the Third Anglo-Afghan War
itself.
On May 2, 1921, long after the Pashtun tribesmen should have been pacified, the
Manchester Guardian carried a panicky news release by the British Viceroy of
India on a Mahsud attack. "Enemy activity continues throughout," the alarmed
message from Viceroy Rufus Isaacs, the Marquess of Reading, said, implying that
a massive uprising on the subcontinent was underway. In fact, the action at
that point was in only a small set of villages in one part of Waziristan,
itself but one of several otherwise relatively quiet tribal areas.
On the 23rd of that month, a large band of Mahsud struck "convoys" near the
village of Piazha. British losses included a British officer killed, four
British and two Indian officers wounded, and seven Indian troops killed, with
26 wounded. On the 24th, "a picket [sentry outpost] near Suidgi was ambushed,
and lost nine killed and seven wounded". In nearby Zhob, the British received
support from friendly Pashtun tribes engaged in a feud with what they called
the "hostiles", and - a modern touch - "aeroplanes" weighed in as well. They
were, it was said, "cooperating", though this too was an exaggeration.
At the time, the Royal Air Force (RAF) was eager to prove its colonial worth on
the imperial frontiers in ways that extended beyond simple reconnaissance, even
though in 1921 it maintained but a single airplane at Peshawar, the nearest
city, which had "a hole in its wing". By 1925, the RAF had gotten its wish and
would drop 150 tons of bombs on the Mahsud tribe.
On July 5, 1921, a newspaper report in the Allahabad Pioneer gives a sense of
the tactics the British deployed against the "hostiles". One center of
rebellion was the village of Makin, inhabited by that same Mahsud tribe, which
apparently wanted its own irrigation system and freedom from British
interference. The British Indian army held the nearby village of Ladka. "Makin
was shelled from Ladka on the 20th June," the report ran.
The tribal fighters responded by beginning to move their flocks, though their
families remained. British archival sources report that a Muslim holy man, or
faqir, attempted to give the people of Makin hope by laying a spell on the
6-inch howitzer shells and pledging
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