India's Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises: Spying for South Block 9781032282947, 9781032282978, 9781003296195

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‘This impressive book adds significantly to the intelligence literature by providing a detailed analysis of Indian intelligence culture and using this as a framework to explain the Indian experience with strategic surprise. It is a landmark work that expands the horizons of academic Intelligence Studies.’ Mark Phythian, Professor of Politics, University of Leicester ‘In recent years, scholars of intelligence have finally started to sail outside of their sea lane by studying intelligence and security agencies beyond the Anglosphere and Europe. The latest author to make their mark is Dr Dheeraj Paramesha Chaya. Dr Chaya's book is a brilliant discussion of India’s foreign intelligence culture from the colonial era to the present day. Packed with detailed research on the reasons for stra­ tegic surprise, the book is an important contribution to the study of intelligence.’ Christopher R. Moran, Professor of US National Security, University of Warwick ‘Dr Chaya’s volume is an exceptionally important contribution to the scholarship on intelligence. It provides an exemplar fusion of Western conceptual literature on intelli­ gence with both India’s own conceptual traditional precedents on intelligence as well as that nation’s practical, contemporary experience of intelligence as a core state function and as a profession. It provides an excellent demonstration of the kind of work that can be done, and that needs to be done.’ Philip H.J. Davies, Professor, Intelligence Studies and Director, Brunel Centre for Intelligence and Security Studies (BCISS), Brunel University ‘It is hard to overstate the significance of this book for India, and for all those trying to understand that crucially important country. It is an unblinking, meticulously resear­ ched, in-depth examination of more than two thousand years of India’s underappreciated intelligence culture, starting with the seminal Arthashastra - a work of such sophistication that it makes The Art of War look like a children’s book. This is not abstract study, it has the intellectual courage to test its finding in some of India’s most sensitive real-world conflicts. It is a uniquely valuable book that will spawn new fields of study for years to come.’ Cleo Paskal, Associate Fellow, Chatham House ‘Within the canon of intelligence studies, India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises does two incredibly valuable things. It firstly opens up the black box of the Indian intelli­ gence machine, something that has – hitherto – been a significant absence from the intel­ ligence studies literature. Secondly it provides an authentic voice on Indian security concerns. Too often security and intelligence studies rests upon the British or American voice, or the British and American attempt at taking an Indian viewpoint. Dheeraj engages with and speaks to the intelligence and security studies field, but does so with authentic Indian experiences and research material. In doing so he is performing a valuable service in opening our eyes to a vitally important strategic partner, and a highly capable intelligence and security power. In these uncertain times, it is a critically important role.’ Robert Dover, Professor of Intelligence and National Security, University of Hull

India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises

This book examines India’s foreign intelligence culture and strategic surprises in the 20th century. The work looks at whether there is a distinct way in which India ‘thinks about’ and ‘does’ intelligence and, by extension, whether this affects the prospects of it being surprised. Drawing on a combination of archival data, secondary source information and interviews with members of the Indian security and intelligence community, the book provides a comprehensive analysis of the evolution of Indian intelligence culture from the ancient period to colonial times and, subse­ quently, the post-colonial era. This evolutionary culture has played a significant role in explaining the India’s foreign intelligence failure during the occurrences of strategic surprises, such as the 1962 Sino-Indian War and the 1999 Kargil War, while it successfully prepared for surprise attacks like Operation Chenghiz Khan by Pakistan in 1971. The result is that the book argues that the stra­ tegic culture of a nation and its interplay with intelligence organisations and operations are important to understanding the conditions for intelligence failures and strategic surprises. This book will be of much interest to students of intelligence studies, strategic studies, Asian politics and international relations. Dheeraj Paramesha Chaya is Assistant Professor, Department of Geopolitics and International Relations, Manipal Academy of Higher Education, India. He has a PhD in Intelligence Studies from the University of Leicester, UK.

Studies in Intelligence

Intelligence Oversight in the Twenty-First Century Accountability in a Changing World Edited by Ian Leigh and Njord Wegge Intelligence Leadership and Governance Building Effective Intelligence Communities in the 21st Century Patrick F. Walsh Intelligence Analysis in the Digital Age Edited by Stig Stenslie, Lars Haugom, and Brigt H. Vaage Conflict and Cooperation in Intelligence and Security Organisations An Institutional Costs Approach James Thomson National Security Intelligence and Ethics Edited by Seumas Miller, Mitt Regan, and Patrick F. Walsh Intelligence Agencies, Technology and Knowledge Production Data Processing and Information Transfer in Secret Services during the Cold War Edited by Rüdiger Bergien, Debora Gerstenberger and Constantin Goschler State-Private Networks and Intelligence Theory From Cold War Liberalism to Neoconservatism Tom Griffin India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Spying for South Block Dheeraj Paramesha Chaya For more information about this series, please visit: https://www.routledge. com/Studies-in-Intelligence/book-series/SE0788

India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Spying for South Block

Dheeraj Paramesha Chaya

First published 2022 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2023 Dheeraj Chaya The right of Dheeraj Chaya to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record has been requested for this book ISBN: 978-1-032-28294-7 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-28297-8 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-29619-5 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003296195 Typeset in Bembo by Taylor & Francis Books

Contents

List of illustrations Foreword Acknowledgements Abbreviations Introduction

ix

x

xiii

xv

1

SECTION I

India’s Foreign Intelligence and Strategic Surprises 1 Contextualising Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises

7

9

SECTION II

The Evolution of India’s Intelligence Culture

37

2 Kautilya’s Discourse on Secret Intelligence in the Arthashastra

39

3 From the Kautilyan State to the Colonial State: Transmogrification

of the Ideas and Operations of Intelligence

64

4 The Birth of Post-Colonial Indian Intelligence Culture

88

SECTION III

Case Studies of India’s Wars

121

5 The Intelligence Bureau and the Sino-Indian War: Between Mao’s

Deception and Nehru’s Wishful Thinking

123

6 Indian Intelligence and the 1971 Indo-Pak War: The Epic of a

Successful Detection and Counter-Surprise

163

7 Surprise on the Kargil Hilltops: Prognostication of the Irrational

197

viii Contents SECTION IV

Indian Intelligence Culture in Perspective

227

8 Indian Intelligence Culture: An Articulation

229

9 Culture of Ad hocism: Moving Beyond the Orthodox-Revisionist

Dichotomy

263

Epilogue: Bring Back the Kautilyan State Appendix Index

273

277

279

Illustrations

Figures 5.1 6.1 6.2 7.1

India-China Disputed Regions West Pakistan and East Pakistan (Bangladesh) divided by India Structure of the Indian civilian intelligence after the 1968 reforms Jammu and Kashmir region depicting Kargil and the Northern Areas 8.1 Indian Intelligence Culture: The Evolutionary Structure 9.1 Intelligence-Policy structure in Western democracies 9.2 Intelligence-Policy divide in India

124 164 170 198 230 267 268

Tables 4.1 Cultural change in Indian intelligence from the Kautilyan state to the post-colonial Indian state 5.1 Assumptions versus Outcomes in Indian Military Planning in 1962

111 147

Foreword

There has been little academic work about Indian intelligence that is also linked to actual conflicts. Instead, there have been autobiographies of the B.N. Mullik variety in his book My Years With Nehru, Asoka Raina’s Inside the RAW, B. Raman’s The Kaoboys of R&AW, Nitin Gokhale’s The Grand Spymaster a biography of R.N. Kao, the founder of the Research and Analysis Wing (R&AW), and lately G.B.S. Sidhu’s book Sikkim-The Truth Behind Sikkim’s Merger With India, which is about the role of the R&AW in the merger. All these are more about intelligence operations and partly biographical. Dr Dheeraj’s book India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises is perhaps the first academic work on India’s foreign intelligence culture. The book succeeds in giving an impartial account of the evolution of Indian intelligence systems after a very hesitant start with the leadership that was indifferent and naïve about such requirements for the state; and it would be a valuable addition to the informed literature on India’s wars and intelligence activ­ ities. The book highlights the need to provide the intelligence community a voice in contemporary India’s security history. Such studies are beneficial to the Indian intelligence community especially when there is now a growing public interest in the role and efficacy of intelligence organisations. Intelligence functioning in a democracy has its own often-debated issues such as limitations of secrecy and privacy as well as security and openness. These demands for privacy are now becoming louder, commentary at times irre­ sponsible, reportage is competitive and frequent as well as even instant. The alternative – censorship – appears tempting but is best avoided. What is needed is a better understanding of each other’s needs and compulsions. Excessive secrecy and mysterious behaviour lead to conspiracy theories that get embellished as they gather momentum. Spying for South Block sets the record straight with archival information and elite interviews. The book is divided into four parts. Part I relies heavily on Western literature which is understandable there being very little independent Indian literature on the theoretical aspect of intelligence’s meaning and collection. It brings out the Tanham commentary about lack of Indian strategic vision versus Indian strategic thinkers on the subject. The author is right when he says, “It is necessary to understand the philosophies and thought processes governing a nation’s national security processes to ideally locate and understand the role played by its

Foreword

xi

intelligence agencies”. Given that this is the first book attempting to make such a comprehensive analysis of India’s external intelligence, it is inevitable to trace the ideational evolution of foreign and strategic military intelligence in India’s national security mechanism. The next part of the book does this. Part II traces how intelligence evolved from the time of Kautilya in the 3rd and 2nd centuries BCE and the ethos lasted until the 12th century. Kautilya’s Arthashastra – valid until the 12th century when the Muslim invasions reduced intelligence activity to rounding up of conspirators against the monarch. Translated into English only in 1912, the Arthashastra was rediscovered after independence, and Kautilya’s tenets remain valid even today. However, modern intelligence activity in India is an off shoot of British practices during their rule in India until 1947. Intelligence during the colonial times was not about policy but keeping the Raj secure from foreign invasions and later from the growing nationalism within India. The implication of this colonial legacy on post-independence Indian intelligence were bound to be strong. However, with the transfer of authority to Indians, the targets of intelligence suddenly became the consumers of intelligence. Post-inde­ pendence, Home Minister Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel and Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru did not see situations the same way. For Patel, who saw intelligence as a necessary requirement for internal security, the organisation of an intelligence bureaucracy was inevitable. Nehru, however, showed an aversion to matters of intelligence. External threats were a non-issue. As a result, the author rightly high­ lights with sufficient archival evidence and critical analysis, that there was a con­ tinuation of the colonial intelligence culture, “one that was internal threat responsive and mainly determined by the courage and adroitness of the intelligence managers”. How this troubled and lethargic evolution of foreign intelligence would affect India’s national security became evident in the 1962 Sino-Indian War. The author’s analysis of three major security events of 1962, 1971 and 1999 in Part III are indeed truly relevant to assess modern Indian intelligence after independence. The author asks and answers questions about how and why the Indians were surprised by the Chinese in 1962. The intelligence aspect, or the lack of it, and the reasons for this lack leading to the 1962 crisis, are explored in great and professional detail. The author’s assessment that “the 1962 surprise was multi-causal, and in that there are much stronger reasons than the failure of strategic intelligence, which are causally linked to the intelligence culture of the Nehru days”, is completely accurate. The events leading up to the 1971 war and the breakup of Pakistan, with the R&AW’s role is what everyone except Pakistanis love to talk about. The academic aspects and the practical imple­ mentation are what the author brings out very clearly. And the generally pro­ claimed intelligence failure that Indians talk about – Kargil in 1999. The background about Pakistani compulsions and expectations, an especially important aspect of the reasons why this happened at all, has been very well portrayed. The Indian security establishment underwent a detailed heart and soul searching and more organisations were created, some by taking away from the functions of R&AW.

xii

Foreword

The narratives then set the stage for examining the root causes for such intelligence and policy performances in Part IV asserting that intelligence cul­ ture is central to the understanding of intelligence-surprise dynamics. This is the essence of the book. Comprising two chapters, this part is an articulation of India’s intelligence culture. It argues that the origins of India’s intelligence culture lie in its strategic culture, which determines the strength of India’s strategic intelligence organisation, activity and product. It exposes that India’s intelligence culture is composed of “five interlinked pillars” on which India’s intelligence-surprise dynamics reside. The five pillars are the various strengths of - leadership, organisations, covert action, consumer literacy and international relations. Each aspect matters but quite often consumer illiteracy or indifference is an important and underrated part of the cycle. All intelligence agencies go through the familiar problems of poor interagency co-ordination leading to intelligence bureaucracies in competition rather than active co-operation; intelligence bureaucracies end up producing numerous reports of little value to the consumer; lack of funds and cumbersome controls and procedures have been familiar refrains among intelligence agencies, sometimes with justification. This is not typical of the Indian system but happens among almost all agencies functioning in a democratic environment. The more important aspect is about developing an intelligence culture in India and the need to have it. It goes beyond just sharing intelligence and joint operations. It is about the security system, the politician, the media, and understanding and promoting the modern definition of security and intelligence. It is not about securing the place after the event but much more about anticipating, about area, language, region and subject expertise and operational capabilities in the covert aspects of intelligence. Intelli­ gence capabilities are best developed in times of peace, such as the capability to fight a long war. It is wise, therefore, to develop an intelligence culture in the fullness of time. Appreciating these factors, the book then ends, quite appropriately, with an epilogue on reviving the Kautilyan intelligence culture for India’s national security in the 21st century and the need for continued intelligence studies. The author is right in arguing that India requires an offensive intelligence capability to tackle its national security challenges in the new millennium. Sharper offensive intelligence capabilities, including cyber and artificial intelligence, become necessary considering the security situation that India faces with two hostile nuclear powers as neighbours. India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises is a commendable effort in documenting the evolution of India’s intelligence culture in the 20th century and paving the way for the 21st century. Looking forward to a sequel to this book. Vikram Sood Former Secretary (Research and Analysis Wing) Government of India, Gurugram

Acknowledgements

The confidence to write a book on the topic of foreign intelligence, especially of a country renowned for secrecy, could not have been acquired but for the support and encouragement given by several retired intelligence officers and security personnel. It was their earnest belief that an academic study on intelli­ gence was necessary in the larger interest of the nation and its people that gave birth to this study. Some of them have been identified by their names in this book. But many have chosen to remain anonymous, implying that I will never be able to publicly acknowledge the kind of support I have received from them. Therefore, my first word of gratitude is owed to these individuals who, even after spending most of their lives in service of the nation, are still driven by intellectual curiosity and service mentality. I would like to wholeheartedly thank my supervisors, Professor Rob Dover and Professor Mark Phythian. My introduction to academic literature on Intelligence Studies in 2013 began with consulting their works, which are considered essential reading in all the intelligence academies that I have known. Little did I know at that time that I would be fortunate enough to work under their close supervision. Their curiosity despite several years of specialisation in the subject, combined with their unbelievable sense of humour, honestly denied me the much-celebrated stressful part of a PhD life. I can only hope that at least a part of their work ethic and style has rubbed off on me. I am also grateful to Dr Andrew Futter, Dr David Stratchan-Morris, Dr Tara McCormack, Dr Richard Whitaker and Dr Joshua Baker for their constructive comments that helped me shape some of the arguments made in this thesis. I would like to thank Ms Cleo Paskal, Dr Saumyajit Ray, Professor Chintamani Mahapatra, Professor M.D. Nalapat, Professor Arvind Kumar and Dr Nanda Kishor for their support during my master’s and M. Phil days that helped to shape this research project. No number of words can capture my gratitude to two scholars – Dr Bidanda Chengappa and Dr Prem Mahadevan. Dr Chengappa constantly reminded me that he was seeing his dream in me, which meant that I did not have to find a better source of motivation. Dr Mahadevan, being the first and only Indian scholar of Intelligence Studies, patiently read each and every draft of this book and ensured that many of the anxieties and obstacles that a debutant would face were somewhat alleviated. I am also thankful to Air Vice-Marshal

xiv Acknowledgements (Retd) Arjun Subramaniam and Lieutenant General (Retd) K. Surendranath for being a constant source of encouragement and learning. Towards the closing days of my research, I had the good fortune of meeting and learning from Dr Avinash Paliwal who shares an extraordinary interest in the subject. As I have already mentioned, I began developing an interest in Intelligence Studies in 2013. Apart from my supervisors, my understanding of the subject was greatly enhanced by the works of Professor Loch K. Johnson, Dr Mark M. Lowenthal, Professor Philip H.J. Davies, among several others. I am thankful to all these scholars, particularly Professor Davies for having shown a keen interest in my work and sharing with me his work on intelligence in ancient India. I am also thankful to the librarians and staff of the numerous academies that I visited for my research work. While some cannot be named, the staff at the archives of India, the U.S.A. and the U.K. were particularly helpful. I am extremely grateful to the University of Leicester and the Department of Politics and International Relations for giving me the opportunity for conducting research on a topic that I have desired to work on for close to a decade. I am thankful for the award of the International PGR Excellence Award and the College of Social Sciences, Arts and Humanities Postgraduate Fund Award that significantly lessened the financial tensions that a researcher from a third world country would otherwise have suffered. Finally, I thank my friends and family. They have patiently stood by me for years. Without their tolerance of my absence, faith in my abilities and much-needed encouragement, this research could not have been possible.

Abbreviations

ACAS-Int – Assistant Chief of Air Staff- Intelligence AMIR – Annual Military Intelligence Review ARC – Aviation Research Centre BJP – Bharatiya Janata Party BSF – Border Security Force CGS – Chief of General Staff CIA – Central Intelligence Agency CIRO – Cabinet Intelligence and Research Office COAS – Chief of Army Staff COIN – Counterinsurgency COSC – Chiefs of Staff Committee CRO – Commonwealth Relations Office DG ISI – Director General of the Inter-Services Intelligence DGMI – Director General of Military Intelligence DGMO – Director General of Military Operations DGS – Directorate General of Security DIA – Defence Intelligence Agency DIB – Director Intelligence Bureau DIPAC – Defence Imagery Processing and Analysis Centre EBR – East Bengal Regiment EMS – Ear-Marking Scheme EPR – East Pakistan Rifles FBI – Federal Bureau of Investigation FCNA – Force Command Northern Areas FCO – Foreign and Commonwealth Office FPSC – Federal Public Service Commission GCHQ – Government Communications Headquarters GOC-in-C – General Officer Commanding-in-Chief HBR – Henderson Brooks-Bhagat Report HUMINT – Human Intelligence IAF – Indian Air Force IB – Intelligence Bureau IC – Intelligence Community

xvi Abbreviations IDR – Indian Defence Review IFAS – Indian Frontier Administrative Service IFS – Indian Foreign Service INDU – Indian National Defence University IPS – Indian Police Service ISI – Inter-Services Intelligence ITA – Indian Trade Agency J&K – Jammu and Kashmir JIC – Joint Intelligence Committee KCIA – Korean Central Intelligence Agency KGB – Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti KHAD – Khadamat-e Aetla’at-e Dawlati KRC – Kargil Review Committee LOC – Line of Control MACV – Military Assistant Command, Vietnam MEA – Ministry of External Affairs MHA – Ministry of Home Affairs MI – Military Intelligence MI5 – Military Intelligence, Section 5 MINTSD – Military Intelligence Training School and Depot MoD – Ministry of Defence MoF – Ministry of Finance NAI – National Archives of India NEFA – Northeast Frontier Agency NIS – National Intelligence Service (Greece) NLI – Northern Light Infantry NMML – Nehru Memorial Museum and Library NSA – National Security Advisor NTRO – National Technical Research Organisation ORBAT – Order of Battle OT – Operation TOPAC PDNI – Principal Director Naval Intelligence PIB – Pakistani Intelligence Bureau PLA – People’s Liberation Army PME – Professional Military Education POK – Pakistan Occupied Kashmir R&AW – Research and Analysis Wing RAS – Research and Analysis Service SAM – Surface to Air Missiles SAS – Special Air Service SFF – Special Frontier Force SIGINT – Signals Intelligence SIS – Secret Intelligence Service SLO – Security Liaison Officer SSB – Special Service Bureau

Abbreviations xvii TECHINT – Technical Intelligence UK JIC – Joint Intelligence Committee (United Kingdom) UKNA – National Archives of the United Kingdom WASO – Winter Air Surveillance Operations

Introduction

What causes intelligence failures? And, why are nations caught off-guard? These questions have provoked scholarly curiosity over several decades. Starting with Roberta Wohlstetter’s pioneering work on Pearl Harbor, a huge corpus of literature has emerged in Western academia that has predominantly focused on the organisational studies of intelligence. This book examines the utility of culture as an explanatory facet in intelligence failures and strategic surprises and enables the movement of Intelligence Studies (IS) beyond the Anglosphere. To do so, it aims to answer the questions: Is there a distinct way in which India ‘thinks about’ and ‘does’ foreign and strategic military intelligence? What is the relationship between Indian intelligence culture and surprise attacks? The book emerged as a project intending to bring India’s wars – the 1962 Sino-Indian War, the 1971 War of Bangladesh Liberation and the 1999 Kargil War – into the discipline of IS. This was because contemporary India’s security history has been studied from various perspectives like political and diplomatic history, military analysis and so on. However, there is a dearth of serious academic studies on the intelligence dimensions of these wars, leading to the emergence of some preconceived notions of intelligence failures that have never been subjected to scholarly scrutiny. Also, it was found that one of the serious limitations of the academic discipline of Intelligence Studies was its overwhelming focus on the American, European and Israeli cases. Thus, combining the two lacunas, it was amply clear that a project on Indian intelligence was timely and necessary. In addition to this geographic contribution to IS, the Indian cases are significant in understanding the nature of intelligence-surprise dynamics. Scholarship on strategic surprises has suffered from an inability to conduct comparative studies between peacetime intelligence successes and intelligence failures, thereby, evading opportunities to develop a normative theory of intelligence. This book has had the privilege of observing one of the rare instances of intelligence success – the 1971 war. Through the comparative analysis of the cases of fail­ ures and success, this book challenges the traditional arguments on intelligence failures and strategic surprises by emphasising the importance of culture in linking the two variables. In so doing, the book argues that it is indispensable to understand the role of culture in impacting intelligence performances and causing strategic surprises. DOI: 10.4324/9781003296195-1

2

India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises

By tracing the ideational foundations of Indian intelligence culture and empirically observing the influence of intelligence culture on the case studies, the book makes the following contributions: • • • •

It exposes the limitations of adhering to purely organisational level studies to understand intelligence-surprise dynamics; It emphasises the salience of culture as an explanatory factor in intelligence failures and strategic surprises; It challenges some of the conventional wisdom on intelligence like the Kahn’s Law and the nature of military analysis; Finally, it debunks several of the extant arguments of intelligence failures in the Indian cases by revealing the multicausal nature of strategic surprises.

Structure of the Book This book is divided into four parts: • • • •

The introductory part is titled India’s Foreign Intelligence and Strategic Surprises; The second part is historical in nature and titled The Evolution of Indian Intelligence Culture; The third part consists of the case studies and is titled Case Studies of India’s Wars; The fourth part is the analytical portion of this book, which is titled Indian Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises in Perspective.

The introductory part contains a single chapter that outlines the terminologies used in the book and engages the literature on intelligence-surprise dynamics in order to establish the importance of intelligence culture. It offers the survey of literature in IS and India’s Security Studies to expose the glaring gaps as well as justify the necessity of this study. It also introduces the definitions of the key terms used in this research, namely, ‘intelligence’ and ‘surprise’. Finally, the chapter locates this research within the frameworks of critical theory and critical empiricism, as it seeks to both provide a space for India in the Western-domi­ nated discipline of IS, as well as emancipate the intelligence voices that have hitherto been submerged under the weight of politico-diplomatic and military narratives of India’s security history. Part II aims to inform the reader about the evolutionary process of India’s intelligence culture and the vital components of it. This part is divided into three chapters. The first chapter focuses on the ideas of intelligence as espoused in the ancient Indian text – the Arthashastra. As the chapter shall detail, this text, written by Kautilya, is the most comprehensive of ancient Indian scholarly works on statecraft. By culling out the ideas of intelligence from the Artha­ shastra, the chapter presents the native ideas of intelligence prior to the arrival of the colonists. The second chapter then focuses on the colonial period and observes how the advent of colonialism and British ideas and practices of

Introduction

3

intelligence affected the knowledge and principles of intelligence in the subcontinent. This chapter is of particular salience, as the modern-day Indian Intelligence Bureau traces its origins to the colonial period. After having observed the transformation of ideas of intelligence in the subcontinent from ancient times to the pre-independence era, the final chapter observes the interaction of Kautilyan thought and colonialism with the ideas of intelligence espoused by key individuals in the early independence years. This chapter is crucial in understanding how modern Indian intelligence culture took shape around the time of independence. It extracts certain key facets that then form the basis for reasoning India’s strategic surprises. In effect, this part tries to inform the reader about the ‘thought processes’ guiding the development and employment of strategic intelligence in India’s foreign and security policies. Part III again consists of three chapters. Here, the individual cases are investi­ gated to identify the reasons for strategic surprises and/or counter-surprise. The thick narratives on the evolution of Indian intelligence organisations and the conduct of intelligence operations during the 20th century offered in these three chapters serve as a basis for understanding the nature of intelligence-surprise dynamics in India. The first chapter in this part attempts to understand the causes of the strategic surprises encountered by India prior to and during the 1962 SinoIndian War. Drawing on archival material from India, U.K. and the U.S., and interviews with retired officials, the chapter makes the first comprehensive assess­ ment of the nature of Indian intelligence infrastructure aimed at developing China related strategic intelligence. It challenges existing perceptions about the nature of surprise and exposes that analytical failures were partly facilitated by collection failures, which were a consequence of the neglect of intelligence profession by the nation’s policymakers. Finally, in assessing the Indian military’s interaction with strategic intelligence, the chapter concludes that the surprises India encountered in 1962 were a consequence of both intelligence and policy failures. The second chapter of this part aims to understand the spectacular performance of the Indian intelligence prior to the outbreak of the 1971 Indo-Pak War. Like the previous chapter, this also relies on archival material, private papers of key officials, and interviews with former intelligence officers to examine the reforms that took place in the post-1962 period to understand the impact of strategic intelligence on India’s military policy and planning. The chapter argues that the organisational reforms were a consequence of a change in India’s approach to national security under a new political leadership. This transformation advanced both operational and analytical strengths within the Indian intelligence bureau­ cracies whilst also improving intelligence-policy relationship. Through the analysis of the Indian intelligence assessments and operations prior to and during the war, the chapter concludes that the success of the 1971 war owes in large part to the successes of both intelligence and policy. The last chapter of this part aims to explore the causes for the surprise of 1999. Unlike the previous chapters, this chapter does not enjoy the availability of archival material and hence relies extensively on interviews with Indian intelligence and security officials to investigate the organisational and

4

India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises

operational dimensions of the events leading to the Kargil War. Examining the changes that occurred within the Indian intelligence bureaucracies, alongside the shifts that had occurred in the regional geopolitical environment, the chapter identifies that these developments indeed had an impact on Indian intelligence performances. However, on examining other evidence, the chapter challenges existing perceptions of intelligence failure as the cause of the Kargil surprise and argues that both intelligence and policy failures were responsible for the surprise, wherein the latter appears a stronger explanation than the former. The evidence examined in this chapter reveals that the Pakistani intruders could have been identified in time as well as the futility of peace overtures towards Pakistan could have been appreciated if the consumers of intelligence were not operating on rigid mindsets. Thus, taken together, the three chapters in this part argue that the surprises of 1962 and 1999, and the counter-surprise of 1971, were both results of intelligence and policy performances. The narratives then set the stage for examining the root causes of such intelligence and policy performances in the next part. Part IV then engages the central argument of this book that intelligence culture is central to the understanding of intelligence-surprise dynamics. Comprising of two chapters, this part firstly provides a comprehensive articulation of India’s intelligence culture by finding its origins in India’s strategic culture, which in turn determines the strength of the intelligence organisation, activity and product. The first chapter in this part traces the origins of the findings of the case studies to India’s strategic culture. It observes how the trifactorial representation of India’s strategic culture, i.e. restraint, ambiguity and autonomy, has caused the emergence of a particular kind of intelligence culture peculiar to India. The exposition of this intelligence culture is made possible by extracting five key factors which interact together to cause or avert strategic surprises. The five pillars are: • • • • •

Strength Strength Strength Strength Strength

of of of of of

intelligence leadership intelligence organisation covert action capabilities consumer literacy international relations

The argument this chapter makes is that these five factors are deeply interconnected to each other and directly linked to the occurrences of strategic surprises. Drawing heavily on interviews with former intelligence officers, this chapter makes a critical contribution to scholarly understanding of India’s foreign intelligence culture and strategic surprises. The final chapter attempts to connect the study of India’s intelligence culture with the academic literature on intelligence failures and strategic surprises as traced in Part I to support the argument of this book that cultural level studies are more promising than organisational level studies. It exposes the limitations of applying the Western theories of intelligence performances and strategic surprises on the Indian case. The uniqueness that emerges from the arguments

Introduction

5

made in this chapter pave the way for the thesis that cultural level studies are better to understand global intelligence than organisational studies. In other words, the chapter concludes with the argument that how a nation ‘thinks about’ and ‘does’ intelligence is fundamental to understanding its intelligence-surprise dynamics, which mere organisational level studies cannot reveal.

Section I

India’s Foreign Intelligence and Strategic Surprises

1

Contextualising Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises

Introduction The Bharatiya Janata Party’s (BJP) 1998 election manifesto had promised to revamp the intelligence agencies and enhance the traditional and technical capabilities of India’s external intelligence agencies.1 Before these electoral promises could be put to test, the ruling National Democratic Alliance (NDA) government was faced with a surprise Pakistani intrusion in the Kargil sector that led to a brief war to evacuate the occupying forces from the Kargil hilltops. Subsequently, the government was compelled to organise a high-level review committee, known as the Kargil Review Committee to review the events lead­ ing to the war. The findings of the committee and the allegations of intelligence failure in public discourses notwithstanding, a performance appraisal on national security submitted by the then Home Minister Lal Krishna Advani in 2004 observed three critical maladies afflicting the Indian intelligence services at the end of the 20th century.2 These were: • •

•

Lack of co-ordination between agencies had led to the production of intelligence, especially operational intelligence, more for record than substance; Intelligence bureaucracies had been producing a plethora of reports, which they considered vital, but the consumer found barely usable. The system was intelligence illiterate and the producers were ignorant of consumer needs; and Paucity of funds and cumbersome controls and procedures had crippled the agencies of resources.

On identification of these issues, the report boasted about the reforms the regime had undertaken to rectify these maladies. At the apex level, an Intelli­ gence Coordination Group was created for co-ordination and oversight of the intelligence agencies. At the organisational levels, modelled on the United States’ Defense Intelligence Agency, a Defence Intelligence Agency was created to co-ordinate the functioning of the service intelligence agencies and act as the principal intelligence advisor to the Defence Minister and the Chief of Defence DOI: 10.4324/9781003296195-3

10 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Staff (a post that was created only on 24 December 2019). Again, taking cues from the US, the National Technical Research Organisation was formed replicating the National Security Agency. Within the Intelligence Bureau, a Multi-Agency Centre was created to tackle the problem of terrorism. Only time will tell if these reforms have cured the maladies identified by L.K. Advani. Informed analysis will have to await further declassification of information, mostly on the role these agencies played in subsequent surprises like the 26/11 Mumbai Attacks and other foreign policy blunders. This book is limited to the 20th-century experiences of India’s foreign intelligence in averting strategic surprises. More than addressing the organisational and structural ailments that Advani alluded to, this book addresses another important point raised in the Home Minister’s report. The report stated that: “both the capability of the system to be intelligence literate and of the producers to gauge consumer’s needs was at fault and there was no institutional mechanism to correct the distortion [emphasis added]”.3 What does it mean to be “intelligence literate”? And why was there no institutional mechanism to rectify this illiteracy even half a century after independence and numerous instances of strategic surprises? The peculiarity of this finding by the Home Minister clearly suggests that there is something more than merely organisational weaknesses that causes intelligence failures and strategic surprises in India. A lot, therefore, depends on how India thinks about and does intelligence. In other words, the ideational and philosophical underpinnings of India’s intelligence practices form an influential basis in understanding its intelligence performances.

Terminology Intelligence The definition of intelligence is not an easy task, as different nations, observers, scholars define the term differently. One of the scholars who believes in the cultural approach to study intelligence has argued that the Western definitions of intelligence do not facilitate proper understanding of the term in regions beyond the Anglosphere, and thus, “intelligence is insight from information from any means necessary”.4 The problem with such an overarching definition is that it reeks of vagueness which fits Wilhelm Agrell’s adage that “when everything is intelligence, nothing is intelligence”.5 A finite definition is, therefore, required to facilitate an academic study of Indian intelligence. This section, thus, offers a brief engagement with certain definitions of intelligence proposed by Western scholars and arrives at a specific definition for usage in this book. It, firstly, reduces the burden of reinventing the wheel and allows intellectual appropriation from Western scholars who have pondered exten­ sively over the question of defining intelligence. Secondly, the definitions

Contextualising Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises

11

employed by scholars, mainly in the U.S. and the U.K., can be considered liberally in the present study, as Indian intelligence organisations are fashioned mostly on the British and American intelligence bureaucracies.6 This factor will also be amply established in the coming chapters. Definitions by American scholars like Michael Warner, that, “intelligence is secret state activity to understand and influence foreign entities”, establishes a visible Washington centric conception of the term.7 Later U.S. scholars criticised Warner’s definitions for not adequately covering open-source intelligence.8 Eventually, Warner refined his approach to defining intelligence and accepted the definition offered by Milton Diaz, which was a result of interviews with 66 interviewees from American intelligence, military and academia: “any process that produces knowledge that might be used in making a decision, or, influencing the processes, knowledge, or decisions of com­ petitors, and, in the face of competitors’ efforts – real or imagined – to affect one’s own processes, knowledge, or decisions in matters of national policy”.9 Meanwhile, scholars in the U.K., attempting to look beyond the U.S., defined intelligence as: “the mainly secret activities – targeting, collection, analysis, dissemination and action – intended to enhance security and/or maintain power relative to competitors by forewarning of threats and opportunities”.10 The above definition is comprehensive as it covers all activities that fall within the intelligence matrix and also the purpose to which intelligence serves. However, even this definition falls short of what is intended to be achieved in this study as it focuses primarily on the activity and product, not so much on the organisation. To tackle this problem, the book falls back to the age-old study on strategic intelligence by Sherman Kent, where intelligence is what “intelligence devotees usually mean when they use the word”, i.e. organisation, activity and product that results in “the knowledge that our highly placed civilians and military men must have to safeguard the national welfare”.11 While dealing with an unexplored nation, where one is not sure what exactly intelligence means – none of the interviewees of this research could offer a satisfying definition, nor is there an official charter of duties for the Indian intelligence agencies, except the executive order of Indira Gandhi (see Chapter 6 ), through which one can deduce a definition – Kent’s definition is the most suitable, as it encom­ passes not only the activities enshrined in the intelligence cycle, but also points to the actors and institutions involved; their organisational objectives, i.e. the intelligence product; and the larger purpose, i.e. the generation of knowledge to assist national security policy. Therefore, this book does not concern itself with counterintelligence and covert action, as long as they do not impact the development of foreknowledge that is required by policymakers and military

12 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises planners to enhance military readiness. What it mainly concerns itself is with the enemy’s war potential – the intentions and capabilities to attack – and, the ability of Indian intelligence to produce such knowledge. As are evident, tac­ tical aspects are also excluded unless they have a bearing on the intelligence agencies’ ability to uncover the enemy’s strategic intentions. A definition that covers all the concerns cited above has been provided by Adda Bozeman who argued that strategic intelligence should: “facilitate the steady pursuit of long-range policy objectives even as it provides guidance in the choice of tactically adroit ad hoc responses to particular occurrences in foreign policy”.12 Thus, intelligence, as used in this book, is of strategic nature, with tactical and operational intelligence limited to those having strategic consequences; produced by central intelligence organisations dedicated to conducting activities that pro­ duce such knowledge about the adversary to enable long-term foreign and mili­ tary policy and planning, aimed at either averting or adequately engaging a developing threat. Surprise Like intelligence, the term surprise used in this book is also in a strategic sense, which is an occurrence that has a long-term gestation period and/or a sudden occurrence that has long-term consequences. It is something that has been thor­ oughly ignored and, therefore, resulted in insufficient preparation.13 Strategic sur­ prises, in essence, are those events that have a low probability of occurrence but have a high impact when they do occur. In the national security domain, Ariel Levite has defined strategic surprise as “the sudden realisation that one has been operating on an erroneous threat perception”.14 As the threat perception of the victim of surprise encompasses assumptions at the political, diplomatic, economic and social levels, it is a broad phenomenon.15 This book does deal with all of these kinds of surprises, but only to the extent that they manifest in the form of a sudden military offensive. A “surprise attack” as the phenomenon is known, is the final manifestation of a “strategic surprise”, which is the focus of this study. Ephraim Kam’s exposition on the phenomenon of surprise is useful in determining the meaning of the term for this book: “On a theoretical scale, we might identify at one end a complete absence of surprise, where the actual development precisely matches our expectations; a complete absence of surprise finds us well prepared. At the other end of the scale is total surprise, in which the event, having never been envisaged, takes us completely unprepared”.16 Between total surprise and an absence of one, lies the varying degrees of sur­ prises that nations experience. Such experiences are a consequence of the

Contextualising Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises

13

assumptions and beliefs that drive the country’s foreign and military policies. With regard to surprise attacks, they can manifest from five basic questions being answered incorrectly: whether an attack will occur, why will the attack occur, what kind of an attack, and, where and when will the attack occur? A total surprise occurs when several of the questions have not been answered correctly, most importantly the questions regarding foreseeing the attack. However, if the nation had foreseen an attack but was surprised by its nature, location and time, it is considered a partial surprise.17 The connecting variable between assumptions and expectations and the occurrence of a surprise attack is warning intelligence. Successful warning intelligence alerts the nation to the coming attack and guides military preparedness. The degree of preparedness is, thence, proportional to the influence of the assumptions and beliefs held prior to the warning, and the timeliness and clarity with which the warning intelli­ gence impacts the pre-crisis preparedness. Therefore, in this book, surprise is used in a strategic sense that indicates a failure in threat perception, resulting in inadequate military readiness. In other words, surprise in this book is used in a negative strategic politico-military sense and an outcome of inadequate military readiness.18 Tactical or partial surprise is not the central feature of this book.

Literature Review Why study cultures of intelligence? The study of intelligence and surprises has traversed through two generations of scholarship. The first generation addressed the topic using several cases from World War II and the Cold War.19 The efforts of these scholars were aimed at developing a normative theory of intelligence. In course of time, several impediments in the process of successful generation of intelligence and aversion of surprise attacks were identified. However, in pursuit of a normative theory of intelligence, scholarship got divided into orthodox and revisionist schools of thought.20 The former, being the larger group, concluded that intelligence failures and surprise attacks are inevitable considering the irreparable nature of the psychological faculties of intelligence analysts and the political dimensions of decision making.21 Drawing on this conclusion, one senior scholar wrote in 1980 that “the theory of military surprises seems to have reached a point of diminishing returns”.22 Hence, for this school of thinkers, intelligence reforms appeared only marginally beneficial. The revisionist school of thinkers, for their part, believed that a normative theory of intelligence was indeed achievable. According to them, the orthodox scholars had failed in reaching a normative theory because of their failure to study cases of intelligence successes.23 For the revisionists, the psychological and political constraints were less consequential than the quality of intelligence collection. Through a comparative analysis of the Pearl Harbor failure and the success of the Battle of Midway, for instance, Levite concluded that the main culprit in causing surprise attacks was not the analyst or the policymaker, but

14 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises insufficient intelligence collection.24 So, if the orthodox scholars argued that surprises occurred despite warnings, the revisionists countered that surprises occurred devoid of warnings. Notwithstanding the commendable efforts of this generation of scholars in dissecting numerous cases throughout the period and facilitating a vibrant debate over the feasibility of having a normative theory of intelligence, there were serious limitations to what they could achieve. As identified by the revi­ sionists, the orthodox scholars failed to study any cases of intelligence success. However, where the revisionists claim to have studied cases of intelligence successes, like the Battle of Midway, they have been a case from an ongoing war. The orthodox scholars have regarded this as a comparison of “peacetime apples with wartime oranges”.25 Therefore, where the revisionists have rightly identified a loophole in the orthodox school, they have been unable to con­ vincingly fill the gap by studying peacetime cases of intelligence successes. It is against this backdrop, that one could have agreed with Handel’s proclamation that the study of surprises had actually reached its end. However, the 9/11 attacks and the birth of transnational terrorism exposed another lacuna in the study of intelligence, viz. the lack of representation of nations outside the Anglosphere. A new generation of scholars emerged with an understanding that cultural studies of intelligence elsewhere is necessary to understand how global intelligence agencies operate and the kind of results that such diverse operational methods have achieved. To be sure, the debate between orthodox and revisionist schools has sustained even in the post-9/11 scholarship. Even in the context of counterterrorism, some scholars have argued that intelligence failure and surprises are inevitable and only marginal improvements in the intelligence product can be achieved through reforms.26 Similarly, post-9/11 revisionist scholars have countered that improve­ ments in intelligence collection can avert surprise attacks.27 However, unsurpris­ ingly, these scholars are also focused on American intelligence, and thus, have had little to offer about the working of intelligence elsewhere. One scholar, Or Honig, attempted to apply the orthodox-revisionist dichotomy to study the case of the Yom Kippur War and arrived at a middle-ground suggesting that both the schools had their own set of drawbacks.28 Although Honig expresses the shortcomings in both the camps, the fundamental question on the applicability of the orthodoxrevisionist dichotomy on non-American cases remained largely unanswered. His work did not consider the structural, environmental and organisational differences between the U.S. and Israel. It is against this backdrop that the new generation of scholars has begun placing culture at the centre of academic focus. Even here, it must be noted that the mention of culture in the study of intelligence is not entirely a 21st-century development. Gerald Hopple had observed in his analysis of the British failure to predict the Argentine intentions prior to the Falkland Islands War that “intensity” as a cultural trait that deter­ mined Argentinian proactive measures, even when all military and political factors indicated restraint, was missed by the British analysts.29 In the 1990s, Adda Bozeman’s seminal work “Strategic Intelligence and Statecraft” had

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15

warned the American policymakers of the cultural diversity in the non-Western regions that demanded upgradation in American intelligence capabilities.30 Yet, it took the emergence of transnational terrorism as a national security threat to the West, alongside the 2003 Iraq war debacle, to provoke systematic cultural approaches to the study of intelligence. While some scholarly calls for a ‘beyond the Anglosphere’ approach to the study of intelligence seem motivated by a desire to draw lessons for the U.S. from cultures that have long grappled with problems of terrorism and so on,31 others have focused on culture to expand the scope of Intelligence Studies and improve the quality of academic debates surrounding intelligence failures and surprises.32 The U.S. and the U.K. are the two most prominently represented countries in Intelligence Studies. This owes in large part to the origins of the discipline in these countries and also, to the disproportionate availability of governmental data to support scholarly work than in most other countries. The 2003 Iraqi debacle, caused by both the U.S. and the U.K., and its subsequent diagnosis by Philip Davies brought to focus the nuances that Intelligence Studies would have to embrace and called into question the inadequate focus on cultures of intelli­ gence.33 As reflected in the discussion on the meaning of the term intelligence in different countries, Davies argued that: “the difference between definitions is not simply a semantic variation. Rather these definitions reflect, and sometimes even drive, fundamental differences in how intelligence institutions have taken place in the two countries”.34 Davies’ work on intelligence failures questions the rationality behind the most fundamental objective that the first generation of intelligence scholars had sought to achieve, i.e. theorisation of intelligence. According to him, empirical research is of greater importance, and the emergent trends and patterns need not neces­ sarily become theories. Thus, by comparing the British and American intelli­ gence, he concluded that “the development of intelligence theory and the achievement of intelligence order and coordination are actually inversely corelated” [emphasis original].35 The impetus to theorise intelligence is, in fact, a reflection of the American political culture that places emphasis on legalities of institutions and formulation of doctrines and theories. Although Davies used the recent case of the 2003 Iraq failure, the differences in operational cultures deriving from differing political cultures of the respective countries were visible even earlier. For instance, in counterintelligence, the U.S. Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) and the British Security Service (MI5), although faced with a common espionage threat by the Germans during World War II, followed different operational methods. Considering the two major counterintelligence successes achieved by the FBI in 1941–42 – the uncovering of German spies William Sebold and George Dasch – it is evident that both the spies were walk-ins, and provided little counterintelligence advantage to the FBI, as the latter was “eager to present a solid victory to the public” in line with its

16 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises law enforcement outlook.36 On the other hand, MI5 apprehended two agents of the Nazi intelligence Abwehr, codenamed TATE and SUMMER, and success­ fully exploited them as double-agents under the Double-Cross System.37 This cultural difference would play an important role in determining the degree of the FBI’s ineffectiveness in counterterrorism several decades later as many of the characteristics such as distinction between intelligence and investigation, deter­ mination of personnel promotions on the basis of law enforcement standards, etc. began to have negative ramifications on the organisation’s performance. With such visible differences between Britain and the United States – close cousins, one can only logically conclude that intelligence in other countries also hold distinct characteristics. In this context, the exploration of national intelligence cultures has been projected as the most effective method of enhancing the understanding of the concept.38 Within the observation of national intelligence cultures, i.e. a complex set of factors emerging out of ideological, organisational, societal, historic and geo­ graphic considerations, the cultural approach to the study of intelligence is a lot more promising than the approaches of the first generation of intelligence scholars that stuck mostly to the organisational level.39 As Duyvesteyn argues: “methodologically, the process of intelligence would lend itself well to a thorough comparison of the role of culture; since it provides a setting in which one can realistically expect to see through different implementations of the common tasks of “doing” intelligence; the role of culture providing influences, orientations and expectations that cannot be reduced to the internal logic of those tasks”.40 The cultural approach to the study of intelligence drew heavily from the experiences of strategic studies where it was found that nations have distinct ways of thinking about the utility of force in statecraft.41 Mark Phythian, thus, prescribed a comparative model of study that focused on the evolution and functioning of national intelligence cultures by taking into account the nation’s strategic environment and regime type alongside organisational and societal factors.42 In essence, this approach goes beyond mere organisational level of analysis to provide a foundational and contextual understanding of intelligence performances. Put simply, the questions regarding how a nation does intelligence and why it does so are equally important to understand the organisational behaviour of the respective intelligence services. The richness of this approach becomes amply visible when one considers the comparative analyses of the British and Japanese intelligence during World War II. According to Douglas Ford, it was the “differences in military culture” between the British and Japanese armies that determined the structure and functioning of intelligence, which ultimately gave the former an advantage over Tokyo.43 These differences were in turn shaped by the historical and geopolitical experiences of the two armies. Hence, the cultural approach is far more intellectually stimulating and a viable method of studying intelligence in comparison to purely organisational studies.

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17

Another example to show how cultural approach serves best to study nations with diverse historical, geographical, political and strategic facets is a compar­ ison between a vast nation with significant international influence like Canada with a tiny island nation in Oceania like the Kingdom of Tonga. During the Cold War, the Canadian intelligence community was vastly influenced by the alliance commitments within the UKUSA alliance framework. This served the Canadians well, as Ottawa preferred a non-aggressive foreign policy; but being within the alliance also appealed to the “fiscal and policy conservatives”.44 However, the changing strategic environment in the post-9/11 era, which witnessed the Canadian military involvement in Afghanistan, exposed the negative consequences of Canada’s minimalist approach towards intelligence. According to Brunatti, the challenges faced by the Canadian intelligence are a result of: “the noted lack of an ‘intelligence culture’ in Canada, which derives from a risk-averse approach to defence and security in general…[and] a national political culture that has traditionally viewed intelligence at best with apathy, and at worst with suspicion”.45 Tonga, on the other hand, constrained by resources and a lack of significant influence in global affairs, has chosen not to have an intelligence agency at all.46 Contrarily, Tonga relies solely on diplomats for information. The cul­ tural difference, however, becomes stark when one observes how the diplo­ mats are chosen and how they come to serve in intelligence roles better than their counterparts elsewhere. Unlike countries in the West, as well as in India, where diplomats are chosen from a diplomatic corps to be posted in other countries on a rotational basis, in Tonga, the king personally appoints indi­ viduals as diplomats. These individuals are chosen at an early age and sent abroad for education or other purposes with a clear mandate and promise of diplomatic posting in that particular country.47 On return, the individual has to appear for an examination and undergo psychological tests before being inducted into the service. The “cultural explanation” for this difference, notwithstanding other factors like geography, is best captured in the words of a senior Tongan diplomat: “the belief in Tonga is that the king brings stability to the island. What benefits the king benefits the nation. So, there is an implicit long-term planning when the king personally chooses the diplomatic community from people who have an international exposure. Some observers may call it nepotism, but the constitution says that foreign policy is the king’s pre­ rogative and, therefore, the system is solid. Many close associates have been denied positions for lack of trust, character or personality. So, even if there is no dedicated intelligence agency, there is sufficient information and knowledge basis for policy”.48

18

India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises

The opposing narratives of Canada and Tonga presented above, where the former has a dedicated agency but is governed more by risk aversion and alliance commitments while the latter despite no dedicated intelligence organisation has sought knowledge-basis for policymaking, clearly demonstrates the distinction between how countries ‘think about’ and ‘do’ intelligence. Such thought pro­ cesses and behaviours are certainly bound to have a bearing on the nation’s intelligence-surprise dynamics. In the recent years, however, even the cultural approach has come under criticism for its inability to provide a clear cause-effect relationship. In fact, Duyvesteyn had clearly expressed this limitation by professing that culture must be seen as a “context for understanding rather than possessing a clear causal and linear relationship with human behaviour”.49 In order to, therefore, both cri­ ticise the cultural approach as well as provide a sobering effect by narrowing its focus, Matthew Crosston warned against being disillusioned by grand narratives of culture and history and lose focus on empirical evidence. For instance, while referring to Chinese intelligence culture, Crosston used the term “Sun-Tzu syndrome” and added that: “there should be a challenge in academia for a scholar covering Chinese security and intelligence to write an article without somehow using a quote or reference to Sun-Tzu as the catch-all explanation of how to properly understand the Chinese world view”.50 Crosston regarded this a trap, where: “we are often left reading diatribes about ancient wisdom and historical ghosts that can never be exorcised and yet do not seem to reveal very much empirical insights on actual contemporary intelligence reality within said countries”.51 Using the cases of China, Russia, North Korea, Turkey, Spain and Romania, Crosston made a fairly convincing argument that culture can steal the researcher of his/her focus. Instead, the focus ought to be on ‘conditions’ – a word he devised to encapsulate the organisational dimension of culture. On the face of it, Crosston’s warning against falling victim to grand strategy and cultures is probably well founded. However, the argument that the focus should be purely on the organisational level is largely disputable. The reason for this is, notwithstanding his discomfort with the word ‘culture’ and the inno­ vative usage of the word ‘condition’, Crosston failed to realise that culture is not stagnant, but is susceptible to evolution and transformation.52 The degree of variance from a country’s grand cultural identity and its influence on the nation’s intelligence is only fathomable by a confluence of a degree of specia­ lisation in Intelligence and Area Studies.53 Therefore, to embrace or disregard the Sun-Tzuvian influence on the Chinese intelligence would require the coming together of an empirical understanding of modern-day Chinese

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intelligence systems, strategies and operations, along with a thorough under­ standing of the influence of historical, political, geographical and strategic factors on China’s grand strategy. Summing up, therefore, it is clear after observing two generations of scholarship in Intelligence Studies that the cultural approach is, at present, arguably the most efficient method of studying the role of intelligence beyond the Anglosphere. In this regard, this book aims to address this gap by providing the first comprehensive account of Indian intelligence culture.

What is the state of Indian Intelligence Studies? In 1992 American political scientist George Tanham penned an essay on Indian strategic thought and reached a conclusion that India lacked strategic thinking.54 It was India’s geographical, historical and cultural experiences developed by Hindu philosophical underpinnings that, according to Tanham, forbade India from establishing strategic institutions and/or facilitating strategic thinking. The essay unsurprisingly provoked the Indian strategic community, which actually led to the first comprehensive discussion on India’s strategic culture. Very few scho­ lars outrightly rejected Tanham’s thesis. To them, the conception that India lacked strategic thinking simply because of the absence of white papers on national security was unacceptable because India had traditionally relied on an oral culture.55 Most other scholars seem to have had sporadic disagreements with Tanham over several pointers concerning India’s approaches to national defence.56 However, K. Subrahmanyam vociferously argued in support of Tan­ ham’s thesis.57 Thus, began the soul-searching exercise among Indian academics and analysts to identify India’s strategic culture. Tanham’s thesis, hence, remains highly relevant for proponents of India’s absent strategic culture, while critics are astounded that his work must have such a long shelf life.58 From the viewpoint of this book, it is noteworthy that the debate on India’s strategic culture has hitherto extended to foreign and defence policy institu­ tions. Intelligence, on the other hand, has been virtually left out of the debate. Throughout the 20th century Subrahmanyam was the only one to write on intelligence within the context of India’s strategic thought. Predictably, his assessment was in line with his notion that India lacked a strategic culture. Hence, he wrote that “intelligence setup [in India] was a victim of the policy of make do”.59 In 2012 Prem Mahadevan reached a similar conclusion in the context of counterterrorism intelligence when he wrote that: “Indian counterterrorism remains defensively oriented, relying on intelligence agencies to succeed where politicians, diplomats, soldiers and policemen have failed in the prevention of terrorist attacks”.60 Barring these two examples that provide glimpses of Indian intelligence culture, there have been no serious academic studies on Indian intelligence. One of the main reasons for this lacuna could be the unavailability of archival information

20 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises to scholars. In fact, one scholar has criticised Subrahmanyam’s attribution of cultural factors to India’s lack of strategic thinking by pointing out that the real problem lay in the unavailability of data for scholarly analysis of the past, by virtue of India’s flimsy declassification practices.61 Coupled with the limits on opportunities for employment, he argued that Strategic Studies in India has, thus, remained underdeveloped.62 The same is arguably true of Intelligence Studies too. Subrahmanyam, being a civil servant, also the former chairman of the Joint Intelligence Committee, could integrate his service experience with scholarly abilities – a luxury enjoyed by few in India. Mahadevan’s work also relied extensively on police documents and interviews with intelligence personnel, which might not be easily accessible to other scholars. As a result, apart from media exposés, the small number of writings on Indian intelligence are limited to organisational descriptive works devoid of much analytical rigour,63 or per­ sonal recollections by practitioners that run the obvious risks of professional biases.64 Undoubtedly, the latter do provide spectacular insights for scholarly analysis, but by themselves, they fail to articulate India’s intelligence culture. This book therefore fills a critical gap in the literature on Security and Strategic Studies in India by examining the role of intelligence agencies in foreign and security policies. To do so, however, it is important to understand the themes that have emerged in the hitherto studies conducted on India’s strategic culture. Under three broad thematic categorisations – restraint, ambiguity and autonomy, scholars have debated how Indian strategic culture has affected India’s foreign and defence policies and planning. It is inevitable to examine these themes in order to facilitate an understanding of India’s intelligence culture. The roots of the themes lie in India’s adoption of non-alignment as the guiding principle of for­ eign policy, which sought to craft an independent path for India’s international relations – one that was free from alliance commitments and uncompelled by the strategic needs of other nations.65 Coming off the clutches of colonialism, India, and Prime Minister Nehru in particular, wished to adopt a Gandhian model of foreign policy that was averse to the use of force.66 The immediate victim of this policy was the nation’s armed forces and defence planning. Defence budgets had been consistently low and modernisation efforts had, thus, suffered. Similar complaints, owing to the policy of restraint, have been raised by the foreign service personnel.67 Only in the aftermath of the 1962 and 1965 wars did the policy of restraint get shaken a bit. Yet, even in instances when India behaved assertively, like the 1971 war, it restrained from transforming its battlefield successes into strategic victories.68 Critics of India’s strategic restraint pin its origins to India’s moralism, while the champions of restraint see pragmatism in India’s decision to restrain from being unnecessarily assertive.69 The second theme, viz. ambiguity, has found its strongest expression in the nuclear domain. But, in reality, ‘ambiguity’ spreads across Indian policymaking process.70 Owing to the democratic nature of Indian polity and the constant fear of public backlash in a parliamentary system, Indian politicians have

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21

deemed it wisest to maintain ambiguity in policies rather than have clearly written strategic documents. According to them: “it is best not to reveal such things, or it would be inflammatory and counterproductive [and hence India] should not ape the west and their militant foreign policy”.71 This has, however, left the Indian military frustrating over a lack of clear direction.72 According to Subrahmanyam, “this strategy of decision making has no doubt ensured that our adversaries are kept in the dark, but so have our own bureaucracies and politicians”.73 The third theme, i.e. autonomy, is also a product of the historical experiences culminating in the form of non-alignment. In a world of power asymmetries, India’s quest for parity required a degree of autonomy in policymaking. This aspect is fundamental in understanding India’s international relations, especially with powerful countries like the United States.74 In theory, non-alignment and autonomy tend to indicate a certain degree of control, and provision of indepen­ dent direction to India’s foreign policy. However, critics of this policy have argued, through empirical observations, that the pragmatism underlying the notion of strategic autonomy has been lost in practice.75 Strengthening of institutions and acquirement of capabilities in order to firmly execute an autonomous foreign policy has been found wanting, owing mainly to the reactive nature of India’s strategic culture that fails to take initiative. In summation, examining the extant literature, one can observe a healthy and vibrant debate on strategic culture among military and foreign policy scholars. However, the same vibrancy has not extended to the subject of intelligence. What do these themes of Indian strategic culture mean to India’s intelligence? This is a question that has, by and large, escaped scholarly attention. Like Tanham, even here, the first attempt has been made by a Western scholar Matthew Crosston to locate Indian intelligence within the larger strategic and political culture. Crosston has written in conclusion that: “the preoccupation with urgent and intractable domestic and regional pro­ blems occasionally creates a sense among Indian and international observers that the country lacks effective coordination and is prone to something derogatorily referred to as “ad hoc-ism” and drift. Discerning India’s strategic intelligence condition, however, needs to take issue with this criticism. With nearly a dozen problematic neighbours, while continuing to undergo its own economic and political transformation, commensurate with higher-level interactions among greater powers, and nearly 15 separate security priorities mashing many of these players together in diverse ways, there simply is no other strategic condition available to India than one that is justifiably “ad hoc” and allows purposeful drift. To observe this adaptability and malleability of Indian intelligence and take it as a sign that the country lacks purpose and planning, and therefore weakness, is a Western bias”.76

22 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises By stating this, Crosston has rightly pointed out that India is geopolitically and strategically situated in an entirely different context in comparison to the Western nation-states. Thus, the notion that Western conceptions of intelligence cannot be imposed on India is well founded. However, the issue in Crosston’s conclusion is that his argument that India’s diverse national security concerns are somehow misunderstood by the likes of Tanham and Subrahmanyam, who refer to ad hocism, is not sufficiently convincing. He fails to make an empirical assessment of how intelligence operates in India and how the consumers of intelligence use the intelligence bureaucracies to further national security goals. In other words, differences in national security priorities might justify differing coping mechanisms, but that does not necessarily surmise that the adopted mechanism is operationally effective. To arrive at such a conclu­ sion, it is necessary to methodically examine the way intelligence operated in cases of successes and failures. To fill this gap, this book, therefore, makes the first attempt at a cultural analysis of Indian intelligence using two cases of failures and one case of success.

Research Framework The aim of this book being the articulation of Indian intelligence culture, finds itself situated within the broad fields of Intelligence Studies and Security Studies and based on the application of critical theory, especially its concept of ‘emanci­ pation’, as well as critical empiricist approaches. As this book is the first attempt at introducing a cultural assessment of Indian intelligence to the global Intelligence Studies community, it aims to break free from the ethnocentric entrapment that has led to the study of the concept purely from an Anglo-European lens. Sec­ ondly, this book is also the first attempt in providing a voice to the Indian intelli­ gence community in India’s security history, which has hitherto been submerged under the weight of political, military and diplomatic narratives. The emancipation of these submerged voices in the Indian security literature is also best possible through a critical approach. To do so, an empiricist research framework is neces­ sary to understand how ideas and identities have determined how India ‘thinks about’ and ‘does’ intelligence.

Critical Theory and Intelligence Culture Intelligence Studies (IS), at least as far as this book is concerned, can be considered as a close cousin of International Relations (IR) and Security Studies. The relative nascency of IS as a cohesive discipline demands borrowing certain theoretical arguments from the intellectual capital of the latter. IR, as an academic discipline, was dominated throughout the Cold War by a visible ethnocentrism – American and Eurocentrism. A realisation had emerged, at the end of the Cold War, that the “Eurocentric model has been guilty of ignoring the constitutive voices that make a conversation in IR”.77 Some scholars have even gone as far as questioning the validity of the term “Cold War”, as it views the world only through the lens of

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23

Washington, Moscow and other European capitals. To them, it is not only absurd, but also lacks sympathy for Vietnam, Korea, India, Pakistan, Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan and other countries, where the war was indeed “hot”.78 Against this backdrop, the critical theorists aspired to widen the ambit of IR and empower the hitherto ignored, by “putting the ‘international’ back” in IR theory.79 The aim was to uplift the Third World nations and replace the periphery as the core of security studies. Ken Booth, explained ethnocentrism as:80 1 2 3

A term used to describe feelings of group centrality or superiority; A technical term to describe faulty methodology in social sciences; A synonym for being ‘culture bound’.

Unfortunately, IS has suffered from all the three descriptions of ethnocentrism, as it is largely a Western-dominated discipline. The first generation of scholars to engage with the question of intelligence-surprise relationship– orthodox and revisionist schools of thought – battled each other to arrive at a normative theory of intelligence. As explained above, none of the schools of thought paid adequate attention to cases outside Europe, North America and Israel. The orthodox school is particularly guilty of being ‘culture bound’, i.e. “the inability to see the world through the eyes of a different national or ethnic group”. For instance, while arguing that intelligence failures are inevitable, Richard Betts, was only focusing on the problems of American politicians, threat perceptions through Washington’s lens, and the numerous agencies only a rich nation like the U.S. could afford.81 From the Pearl Harbor attack to the 2003 Iraq debacle, the cases under their observation have all been American, European or Israeli intelligence blunders. The early revisionists were not as guilty as the orthodox scholars, as at least one scholar thought it prudent to use an Indian case – the 1962 Sino-Indian war – as a case study.82 Nevertheless, despite their argument that the shortcomings of the other lies in the failure to study intelligence successes, they themselves are guilty of not attempting to study the 1971 Indo-Pak war, which is one of the rare cases of intelligence successes. There is, therefore, a visible ethnocentrism even in IS. The IS scholarship appears to be reflective of the statist character of realist IR scholars who argue that factors like domestic politics, although interesting, are not necessary to understand a state’s international behaviour.83 Similar arguments were made by realist scholars of Strategic Studies by claiming that the strategic theorist’s inability to know the identity and culture of the individual or the nation means nothing to his/her ability to “know how statesmen behave and why they behave as they do”.84 The critique of the realists’ statist approach is that the absence of non-statist analysis is what led to the inability of the realists to foresee the collapse of the Soviet Union. For them, state is an “abstraction”, and thus, a state’s foreign policy is a group of individuals advocating and developing common understandings of interests. Scholarship in IS has also been a victim of a similar trap where cultural nuances are paid little attention while investigating the

24 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises causation of intelligence failures and strategic surprises. There seems to be a misinformed belief that all states and their intelligence services share similar characteristics. Against this backdrop, a pilot project like this book that aims to take IS beyond the Anglosphere, draws heavily from the critical theory of Security Studies that has “long called for thinking beyond the Cold War categories that have restricted our ways of ‘thinking’ about and ‘doing’ security”.85 It flows from this argument that IS ought to begin embracing different cultures of intelligence by fundamentally asking how different nations ‘think about’ and ‘do’ intelligence. It is through this framework that this book attempts to answer its central research question surrounding the distinctiveness of the Indian way of intelligence. Therefore, the underlying assumption of this book is that the “emancipation” of intelligence services beyond the Anglosphere is necessary to “problematise and criticise” the status quo in IS.86

Critical Empiricism and Indian Intelligence: The Missing Dimension in India’s Security Studies Literature As traced above, Indian security literature has mostly derived from a realist para­ digm with the state being the centre of focus. However, the institutions that are covered predominantly represent the political, military and diplomatic commu­ nities. The ignorance of the intelligence community from the security literature gives it a subaltern status in the literature on Indian Security Studies. Despite being an elite institution that contributes directly to policymaking like diplomacy and/or the military, intelligence’s shadowy character – reinforced by the challenges to overcome the limitations posed by declassification policies and the Official Secrets Act – has rendered them powerless in terms of scholarly representation.87 During the late 1980s, Western scholars regarded this aspect as the “missing dimension” of political, military and diplomatic history that distorted the meaning and “under­ standing of other, accessible dimensions”.88 Therefore, in order to emancipate the intelligence services and enable better understanding of India’s security history, this book adopts an empiricist approach to observe the ideational development of India’s intelligence and its security implications. To be specific, this book adopts a critical empiricist approach to facilitate the emancipation of the Indian intelligence community from its present obscurity in the security literature. Empiricism deals mostly with learning through observation. As is evident from the literature review on Indian Security Studies presented above, scholars have hitherto learned from making observations on India’s military and foreign policies that there exist three predominant themes, namely, restraint, ambiguity and autonomy. This book aims to further the under­ standing of India’s security through the observation of the impact of these themes on India’s intelligence policies and their interplay with the case studies. An empiricist framework is, therefore, apt given its facilitation of the development of newer insights that explain relationships – in this case, between Indian intelligence and strategic surprises.89

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25

Beyond mere empirical observations, it is important to note that the book draws heavily from the frameworks offered by critical empiricists. To be cri­ tical, writes Whitford: “research must be directed at discrediting the assumptions underlying the existing legal order or at expressing the point of view and advancing the interests of underrepresented groups”.90 The goal of critical empiricism has been to challenge the existing order and demonstrate “how it favours powerful interests and fails to recognise the interests of others”.91 Given that the emphasis is on observation and empowerment of weaker groups, one is unlikely to find a better framework than critical empiricism to study the missing dimension in India’s Security Studies. Indian security literature has traditionally been dominated by political narratives. The military has constantly complained a lack of sufficient role and representation in India’s national security mechanism. In the recent years, however, there has been an emerging body of literature on the historic role played by the Indian military in contemporary Indian history.92 So far as the intelligence community are concerned, there is neither a historical account nor a debate on its larger role in India’s national security. Academics involved in analysing and prescribing frameworks for India’s foreign and security policies have deliberately kept the intelligence agencies out of their purview. For instance, in 2012, a group of academics and analysts formulated a foreign and strategic policy framework for India in the 21st century. Although their report covered a host of areas concerning India’s geopolitics and national security, intelligence was the only security institution to be left out.93 Therefore, a critical empiricist framework is ideal to re-examine the cases of the 1962, 1971 and 1999 wars by giving a voice to the intelligence agencies. By doing so, this book aspires to critically observe several allegations of failures levelled against the Indian intelligence agencies, which are hitherto taken as objective truths, but its veracity has never been questioned.

Summary: Study of Intelligence Cultures are Needed for Better Understanding of Intelligence Performances Having studied the arguments made by two generations of Intelligence Studies scholarship, it is the argument of this book that organisational level studies have their limitations in clearly articulating the dynamics between intelligence fail­ ures and strategic surprises. This chapter has identified the overwhelming focus of scholarly attention on cases from America, Europe and Israel, bereft of context and environment, which has led to inadequate understandings of intelligence performances. It is necessary to understand the philosophies and thought processes governing a nation’s security processes to ideally locate and understand the role played by its intelligence agencies. Given that this is the first book attempting to make such a comprehensive analysis of India’s external

26 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises intelligence, it is inevitable to trace the ideational evolution of foreign and strategic military intelligence in India’s national security mechanism. The next part of the book aims to do this.

Notes 1 ‘BJP Election Manifesto’, Bharatiya Janata Party, 1998, p. 197, available at http:// library.bjp.org/jspui/bitstream/123456789/241/1/BJP%20ELECTION%20MANI FESTO%201998.pdf, accessed on 2 May 2020. 2 L.K. Advani, ‘The NDA Regime and National Security: A Performance Appraisal’, Party Document, vol. 9, 2004, p. 3, available at http://library.bjp.org/ jspui/bitstream/123456789/272/1/The%20NDA%20Regime%20and%20National %20Security%20-%20L%20K%20Adwani.pdf, accessed on 3 May 2020. 3 Ibid. 4 Matthew Crosston, ‘Bringing Non-Western Cultures and Conditions into Com­ parative Intelligence Perspectives: India, Russia and China’, International Journal of Intelligence and Counterintelligence, Vol. 29, No. 1, 2016, p. 128. 5 Wilhelm Agrell. ‘When everything is intelligence – nothing is intelligence’, The Sher­ man Kent Center for Intelligence Analysis, Vol. 1, No. 4, October 2002, available at www.cia.gov/library/kent-center-occasional-papers/vol1no4.htm, accessed on 23 September 2019. 6 Prem Mahadevan, The Politics of Counterterrorism in India, London: I.B. Tauris, 2012, p. 22; Dheeraj P.C., ‘Seaborne terrorism and counterintelligence in India: challenges and concerns’, Journal of the Indian Ocean Region, Vol.14, No.3, 2018, p. 13. 7 Michael Warner, ‘Wanted: A Definition of Intelligence’, Studies in Intelligence, Vol. 46, No. 3, 2002, available at www.cia.gov/library/center-for-the-study-of-intelligence/csi-p ublications/csi-studies/studies/vol46no3/article02.html, accessed on 27 January 2019. 8 Kristian J. Wheaton and Michael T. Beerbower, ‘Towards a New Definition of Intelligence’, Vol. 17, No. 2, 2006, p. 329. 9 Michael Warner, ‘Theories of Intelligence’, in Robert Dover, Michael S. Goodman and Claudia Hillebrand, Routledge Companion to Intelligence Studies, London: Rou­ tledge, 2014, p. 27. 10 Peter Gill and Mark Phythian, Intelligence in an Insecure World, Oxford: Polity Press, 2012. 11 Sherman Kent, Strategic Intelligence for American World Policy, Princeton University Press, 1966, pp. vii–ix. 12 Adda Bozeman, Strategic Intelligence and Statecraft: Selected Essays, Washington DC: Brassey’s, 1992, p. 2. 13 Such surprises are also referred to as Black Swan events that are extremely rare and almost impossible to predict. Hence, policymakers are suggested to assume the worst and prepare accordingly. For an exposition on this line of thought, see Nassim Nicholas Taleb, The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable, London: Pen­ guin Books, 2007. In the field of intelligence analysis, the CIA had identified seven such events back in 1983, namely, the Sino-Soviet split, the development of ALFA submarine, the Qaddafi takeover in Libya, the OPEC price increase, the revolu­ tionary transformation of Ethiopia, the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, and the destruction of the Shah’s Iran. These events implied a historic discontinuity and, hence, in the early stages of the developments, the final outcome seemed highly unlikely. For more on this, see ‘Report on a Study of Intelligence Judgements Preceding Significant Historical Failures: The Hazards of Single-Outcome Fore­ casting”, Central Intelligence Agency, 16 December 1983, available at www.cia. gov/library/readingroom/docs/CIA-RDP86B00269R001100100010-7.pdf, acces­ sed on 3 May 2020.

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14 Ariel Levite, Intelligence and Strategic Surprises, New York: Columbia University Press, 1987, p. 1. 15 Uri Bar-Joseph and Rose McDermott, Intelligence Success and Failure: The Human Factor, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017, p. 9. 16 Ephraim Kam, Surprise Attack: The Victim’s Perspective, Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2004, p. 7. 17 Ibid, p. 8. 18 Bar-Joseph and McDermott, Intelligence Success and Failure, 2017, p. 19. 19 Richard K. Betts, Surprise Attacks: Lessons for Defense Planning, Washington DC: Brookings Institution, 1982; Abraham Ben-Zvi, ‘The Dynamics of Surprise: The Defender’s Perspective’, Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 12, No. 4, 1997, pp. 113–144; Steve Chan, ‘The Intelligence of Stupidity: Understanding Failures in Strategic Warning’, The American Political Science Review, Vol. 73, No. 1, 1979, pp. 171–180.; Robert Jervis, Why Intelligence Fails: Lessons from the Iranian Revolution and the Iraq War, Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2010; Kam, Surprise Attack, 2004; Klaus Knorr, ‘Failures in National Intelligence Estimates: The Case of the Cuban Missiles’, World Politics, Vol. 16, No. 3, 1964, pp. 455–467; Levite, Intelligence and Strategic Surprises, 1987; Roberta Wohlstetter, Pearl Harbor: Warning and Decision, California: Stanford University Press, 1962; Michael Handel, ‘Surprise and Change in International Politics’, International Security, Vol. 4, No. 4, 1980, pp. 57–85. 20 For the origins of the orthodox-revisionist dichotomy, see Richard K. Betts, ‘Surprise, Scholasticism and Strategy: A Review of Ariel Levite’s Intelligence and Strategic Surprises’, International Studies Quarterly, Vol. 33, No. 3, 1989, pp. 329–343; Ariel Levite, ‘Intelligence and Strategic Suprises Revisited: A Response to Richard K. Betts’s “Surprise, Scholasticism, and Strategy”’, International Studies Quarterly, Vol. 33, No. 3, 1989, pp. 345–349. 21 The most commonly observed pathologies to accurate intelligence collection and analysis are as follows: noise-to-signal ratio – relevant information is buried in a load of irrelevant and inaccurate information. The Pearl Harbor attacks are a case in point, see Wohlstetter, Pearl Harbor, 1962, p. 387; enemy deception – an effort by a nation to mislead the enemy’s intelligence analysis and guide the latter to act in accordance with the former’s interests. For example, the Abwehr’s deception to convince Stalin that Ukraine would be the point of ingress when in reality Hitler did not want a protracted engagement with the Soviets, see David E. Murphy, What Stalin Knew: The Enigma of Barbarossa, New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005, pp. 173–177; cry-wolf syndrome – a situation in which collective disbelief over one’s grief occurs owing to repeated bluffs. In 1940, the Dutch policymakers failed to accept warnings of a German attack despite information being sourced from some­ one as reliable as Colonel Hans Oster, German Deputy Chief of Counter­ intelligence, because between 12 November 1939 and 10 May 1940, Hitler postponed the attack 29 times. Each time the Dutch intelligence had raised an alarm, thereby, reducing consumer receptivity, see Cynthia Grabo, Handbook of Warning Intelligence: Assessing the Threat to National Security, Maryland: Rowman and Littlefield Publishers, 2010, p. 246.; other pathologies include information scarcity, abundance, ambiguity, cognitive factors like biases, beliefs and assumptions, and finally, politicisation of intelligence. For a discussion on these themes, see Richards J. Heuer Jr., ‘Psychology of Intelligence Analysis’, Center for the Study of Intelli­ gence, available at www.cia.gov/library/center-for-the-study-of-intelligence/csi-p ublications/books-and-monographs/psychology-of-intelligence-analysis/Psycho fIntelNew.pdf, 27 November 2019; Glenn Hastedt, ‘The Politics of Intelligence and the Politicization of Intelligence: The American Experience’, Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 28, No. 1, 2013, pp. 5–31; Stephen Marrin, ‘Evaluating the Quality of Intelligence Analysis: By What (Mis) Measure?’, Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 17, No. 4, 2012, pp. 655–672.

28 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises 22 Handel, ‘Surprise and Change in International Politics’, 1980, p. 58. 23 Michael S. Goodman and Robert Dover, ‘Lessons Learned: What the History of British Intelligence Can Tell Us about the Future’, in Michael S. Goodman and Robert Dover, Learning from the Secret Past: Cases in British Intelligence History, Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 2011, p. 293. 24 Levite, Intelligence and Strategic Surprises, 1987, p. 178. 25 Betts, ‘Surprise, Scholasticism and Strategy’, 1989, p. 336. 26 Stephen Marrin, ‘Preventing Intelligence Failures by Learning from the Past’, International Journal of Intelligence and Counterintelligence, Vol. 17, No. 4, 2004, p. 658. 27 Erik Dahl, Intelligence and Surprise Attack: Failure and Success from Pearl Harbor to 9/11 and Beyond, Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 2013, p. 28. 28 Or Honig, ‘Surprise Attacks-Are They Inevitable? Moving Beyond the OrthodoxRevisionist Dichotomy’, Security Studies, Vol. 17, No. 1, 2008, pp. 72–106. 29 Gerald W. Hopple, ‘Intelligence and Warning: Implications and Lessons of the Falklands Islands War’, World Politics, Vol. 36, No. 3, 1984, p. 349. 30 Adda Bozeman, Strategic Intelligence and Statecraft: Selected Essays, Washington DC: Brassey’s, 1992, p. vii. 31 Richard J. Aldrich and John Kasaku, ‘Escaping from American Intelligence Culture, Ethnocentrism and the Anglosphere’, International Affairs, Vol. 88, No. 5, 2012, pp. 1009–1028. 32 Crosston,’ Bringing Non-Western Cultures and Conditions into Comparative Intelligence Perspectives’, 2016; Philip H.J. Davies, ‘Intelligence culture and intelli­ gence failure in Britain and the United States’, Cambridge Review of International Affairs, Vol. 17, No. 3, 2004, pp. 495–520; Mark Phythian, ‘Cultures of National Intelligence’ in Michael S. Goodman, Robert Dover and Claudia Hilebrand, Rou­ tledge Companion to Intelligence Studies, 2014, pp. 33–41; Joop Van Reijn, ‘Intelli­ gence and Strategic Culture: Essays on American and British Praxis since the Second World War’, Intelligence and National Security, Intelligence and Strategic Culture: Essays on American and British Praxis since the Second World War, Vol. 26, No. 4, 2011, pp. 441–444; Isabelle Duyvesteyn, ‘Intelligence and Strategic Culture: Some Observa­ tions’, Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 26, No. 4, 2011, pp. 521–530. 33 Davies, ‘Intelligence culture and intelligence failure in Britain and the United States’, 2004. Other important diagnosis of the Iraqi debacle include, John Dum­ brell, ‘The Neoconservative Roots of the War in Iraq’, in James P. Pfiffner and Mark Phythian, Intelligence and National Security Policymaking on Iraq: British and American Perspectives, Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2008, pp. 19–40; Mark Phythian, ‘Still a Matter of Trust: Post-9/11 British Intelligence and Political Culture’, International Journal of Intelligence and Counterintelligence, Vol. 18, No. 4, 2005, pp. 653–681. 34 Davies, ‘Intelligence culture and intelligence failure in Britain and the United States’, 2004, p. 501. 35 Philip H.J. Davies, ‘Theory and Intelligence Reconsidered’, in Mark Phythian, Stephen Marrin and Peter Gill, Intelligence Theory: Key Questions and Debates, London: Routledge, 2009, p. 173. 36 Matthew Kalkavage, ‘Counterintelligence in the Kingdom and the States’, Master’s Thesis Boston University, 14 April 2014, p. 31, available at www.bu.edu/pardeeschool/ files/2014/08/Sample-Research-Paper-2.pdf, accessed on 10 September 2019. 37 Ibid, p. 44. 38 Phythian, ‘Cultures of National Intelligence’, 2014, p. 33. 39 Ibid, p. 41. 40 Duyvesteyn, ‘Intelligence and Strategic Culture’, 2011, p. 524. 41 Edward Lock, ‘Refining strategic culture: return of the second generation’, Review of International Studies, Vol. 36, 2010, p. 700. 42 Phythian, ‘Cultures of National Intelligence’, 2014, pp. 35–36.

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43 Douglas Ford, ‘Strategic Culture, Intelligence Assessment, and the Conduct of the Pacific War: The British-Indian and the Imperial Japanese Armies in Comparison, 1941–1945’, War in History, Vol. 14, No. 1, 2007, pp. 94–95. 44 Andrew Brunatti, ‘Canada’, in Michael S. Goodman, Robert Dover and Claudia Hilebrand, Routledge Companion to Intelligence Studies, 2014, p. 154. 45 Ibid. 46 Note that if a study was conducted on Tonga, the definition of intelligence adopted in this book would be completely inapplicable. 47 Interview with Senior Tongan Diplomat – T1, 20 October 2019. 48 Ibid. 49 Duyvesteyn, ‘Intelligence and Strategic Culture’, 2011, p. 521. 50 Matthew Crosston, ‘Cultures, Conditions, and Cognitive Closure: Breaking Intelli­ gence Studies’ Dependence on Security Studies’, Journal of Strategic Security, Vol. 8, No. 3, 2015, pp. 36–37. 51 Ibid, p. 40. 52 Alexander R. Bentley and Michael J. O’Brien, The Acceleration of Cultural Change: From Ancestors to Algorithms, Cambridge: MIT Press, 2017, pp. 9–12. 53 Louis Morton, ‘National Security and Area Studies: The Intellectual Response to the Cold War’, The Journal of Higher Education, Vol. 34, No. 3, 1963, pp. 142–147; Zakia Shiraz and Richard J. Aldrich, ‘Secrecy, Spies and the Global South: Intelligence Stu­ dies beyond the ‘Five Eyes’ Alliance’, International Affairs, Vol. 95, No. 6, 2019, p. 1317. 54 George Tanham, ‘Indian Strategic Thought: An Interpretive Essay’ in Kanti Bajpai and Amitabh Mattoo, Strategic Thought and Practice, New Delhi: Manohar Publishers, 1996, pp. 72–75. 55 Waheguru Pal Singh Sidhu, ‘Of Oral Traditions and Ethnocentric Judgements’, in Kanti Bajpai and Amitabh Mattoo, Strategic Thought and Practice, New Delhi: Man­ ohar Publishers, 1996, pp. 174–190. 56 See essays by Varun Sahni, Rahul Roy-Chaudhury, Kanti Bajpai and Amitabh Mattoo in Kanti Bajpai and Amitabh Mattoo, Strategic Thought and Practice, New Delhi: Manohar Publishers, 1996. 57 K. Subrahmanyam, Shedding Shibboleths: India’s Evolving Strategic Outlook, New Delhi: Wordsmith, 2005. 58 Dhruva Jaishankar, ‘Ep. 85: India’s Strategic Culture’, The Pragati Podcast, 21 February 2019, available at https://ivmpodcasts.com/the-pragati-podcast-episode­ list/2019/2/21/ep-85-indias-strategic-culture, accessed on 21 October 2019. 59 Subrahmanyam, Shedding Shibboleths, 2005, p. 73. 60 Mahadevan, The Politics of Counterterrorism in India, 2012, p. 2. 61 Anit Mukherjee, ‘K. Subrahmanyam and Indian Strategic Thought’, Strategic Ana­ lysis, Vol. 35, No. 4, 2011, p. 711. 62 Ibid, p. 712. 63 Bhashyam Kasturi, Intelligence Services: Analysis, Organisation and Function, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 1995; P.N. Kathpalia, ‘Intelligence: Problems and Possible Solu­ tions’, Indian Defence Review, Vol. 2, No. 1, 1986, pp. 133–135; M.L. Popli, ‘National Intelligence Assessments and Estimates: Whither our Joint Intelligence Committee’, Indian Defence Review, October 1991, pp. 23–28; Asoka Raina, Inside RAW: the Story of India’s Secret Service, New Delhi: Vikas Publishing House Pvt Ltd, 1981; Rahul Roy-Chaudhury, ‘India’, in Stuart Farson, Peter Gill, Mark Phythian and Shlomo Shapiro, PSI Handboook of Global Security and Intelligence: National Approaches, Volume I: The Americas and Asia, Westport, CT: Praeger, 2008, pp. 211–229. 64 K. Sankaran Nair, Inside IB and RAW: The Rolling Stone that Gathered Moss, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 2016; B. Raman, The Kaoboys of R&AW: Down Memory Lane, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 2013; M.K. Dhar, Open Secrets: India’s Intelli­ gence Unveiled, New Delhi: Manas Publications, 2012; R.K. Yadav, Mission R&AW, New Delhi: Manas Publications, 2014.

30 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises 65 Rudra Chaudhuri, ‘Why Culture Matters: Revisiting the Sino-Indian Border War of 1962’, Journal of Strategic Studies, Vol. 32, No. 6, 2009, pp. 847–848. 66 Stephen P. Cohen and Sunil Dasgupta, Arming without Aiming: India’s Military Mod­ ernisation, Washington DC: Brookings Institution, 2010, p. 3. 67 Deep K. Datta-Ray, The Making of Indian Diplomacy: A Critique of Eurocentrism, London: Hurst Publishers, 2015. 68 Cohen and Dasgupta, Arming without Aiming, 2010, p. 9. 69 Sumit Ganguly and Paul S. Kapur, ‘The Myth of Indian Strategic Restraint’, The National Interest, 18 July 2019, available at https://nationalinterest.org/feature/m yth-indian-strategic-restraint-63232?page=0%2C2, accessed on 23 September 2019. 70 Harsh Pant, India’s Foreign Policy: Theory and Praxis, Cambridge: Cambridge Uni­ versity Press, 2019, p. 4. 71 Peter A. Garretson, ‘Tanham in Retrospect: 18 Years of Evolution in Indian Stra­ tegic Culture’, South Asia Journal, 22 January 2013, available at http://southasia journal.net/tanham-in-retrospect-18-years-of-evolution-in-indian-strategic-culture/ , accessed on 31 October 2019. 72 Interview with Admiral (retd) Arun Prakash, 16 November 2018. 73 Subrahmanyam, Shedding Shibboleths, 2005, p. 13. 74 Guillem Monsonis, ‘India’s Strategic Autonomy and Rapprochement with the US’, Strategic Analysis, Vol. 34, No. 4, 2010, pp. 611–624. 75 Brahma Chellaney, Securing India’s Future in the New Millennium, New Delhi: Orient Longman, 1999, p. 144. 76 Crosston, ‘Bringing Non-Western Cultures and Conditions into Comparative Intelligence Perspectives’, 2016, p. 118. 77 Neil Loughlin, ‘The Benefits and Disadvantages of Post-Positivism in International Theory’, E-International Relations, 20 January 2012, available www.e-ir.info/2012/ 01/20/what-are-the-benefits-and-disadvantages-of-post-positivism-for-internationa l-theory, accessed on 10 October 2019. 78 Amitav Acharya, ‘Ethnocentrism and Emancipatory IR Theory’, in Marshall J. Beier and Samantha Arnold, (Dis)placing Security: Critical Re-evaluations of the Boundaries of Security Studies, York: York University, 2000, p. 4. 79 Loughlin, ‘The Benefits and Disadvantages of Post-Positivism in International Theory’, 2012. 80 Ken Booth, Strategy and Ethnocentrism, London: Routledge, 2014, pp. 14–15. 81 Richard K. Betts, Enemies of Intelligence: Knowledge and Power in American National Security, New York: Columbia University Press, 2007, p. 185. 82 Ben-Zvi, ‘The Dynamics of Surprise’, 1997, pp. 125–130. 83 R.W. Jones, Security, Strategy, and Critical Theory, Colorado: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1999. 84 Colin Gray, ‘New Directions of Strategic Studies? How can Theory help Practice?’, Security Studies, Vol. 1, No. 4, 1992, p. 627. 85 Pinar Bilgin, ‘Critical Theory’, in Paul D. Williams, Security Studies: An Introduction, London: Routledge, 2008, p. 89. 86 K.M. Fierke, ‘Critical Theory, Security, and Emancipation’, International Studies, 2010, p. 17, available at https://oxfordre.com/internationalstudies/view/10.1093/a crefore/9780190846626.001.0001/acrefore-9780190846626-e-138?print=pdf, accessed on 27 November 2019. 87 Christopher Andrew, ‘Intelligence, International Relations and ‘Under- theorisa­ tion’’, Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 19, No. 2, 2004, p. 174.; Simon Wil­ metts, ‘The Cultural Turn in Intelligence Studies’, Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 34, No. 6, 2019, p. 803. 88 Christopher Andrew and D. Dilks, The Missing Dimension: Governments and Intelligence Communities in the Twentieth Century, London: Macmillan Publishers, 1984, p. 1.

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89 William C. Whitford, ‘Critical Empiricism’, Law & Social Inquiry, Vol. 14, No. 1, 1989, pp. 63–64. 90 Ibid, p. 65. 91 Ibid, p. 66. 92 Anit Mukherjee, The Absent Dialogue: Politicians, Bureaucrats, and the Military in India, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019; Arjun Subramaniam, India’s Wars: A Mili­ tary History 1947–1971, Noida: Harper Collins Publishers India, 2016. 93 ‘Non-Alignment 2.0: A Foreign and Strategic Policy for India in the Twenty First Century’, Centre for Policy Research, 29 February 2012, available at www.cprindia. org/research/reports/nonalignment-20-foreign-and-strategic-policy-india-twenty­ first-century, accessed on 22 April 2020.

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32 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Booth, Ken, Strategy and Ethnocentrism, London: Routledge, 2014, pp. 14–15. Bozeman, Adda, Strategic Intelligence and Statecraft: Selected Essays, Washington DC: Brassey’s, 1992. Brunatti, Andrew, ‘Canada’, in Michael S. Goodman, Robert Dover and Claudia Hilebrand, Routledge Companion to Intelligence Studies, 2014. Central Intelligence Agency. ‘Report on a Study of Intelligence Judgements Preceding Significant Historical Failures: The Hazards of Single-Outcome Forecasting’, 16 December 1983, available at www.cia.gov/library/readingroom/docs/ CIA-RDP86B00269R001100100010-7.pdf, accessed on 3 May 2020. Centre for Policy Research. ‘Non-Alignment 2.0: A Foreign and Strategic Policy for India in the Twenty First Century’, 29 February 2012, available at www.cprindia. org/research/reports/nonalignment-20-foreign-and-strategic-policy-india-twenty­ first-century, accessed on 22 April 2020. Chan, Steve, ‘The Intelligence of Stupidity: Understanding Failures in Strategic Warn­ ing’, The American Political Science Review, Vol. 73, No. 1, 1979, pp. 171–180. Chaudhuri, Rudra, ‘Why Culture Matters: Revisiting the Sino-Indian Border War of 1962’, Journal of Strategic Studies, Vol. 32, No. 6, 2009. Chellaney, Brahma, Securing India’s Future in the New Millennium, New Delhi: Orient Longman, 1999. Cohen, Stephen P. and Sunil Dasgupta, Arming without Aiming: India’s Military Moder­ nisation, Washington DC: Brookings Institution, 2010. Crosston, Matthew, ‘Bringing Non-Western Cultures and Conditions into Comparative Intelligence Perspectives: India, Russia and China’, International Journal of Intelligence and Counterintelligence, Vol. 29, No. 1, 2016. Crosston, Matthew, ‘Cultures, Conditions, and Cognitive Closure: Breaking Intelli­ gence Studies’ Dependence on Security Studies’, Journal of Strategic Security, Vol. 8, No. 3, 2015. Dahl, Erik, Intelligence and Surprise Attack: Failure and Success from Pearl Harbor to 9/11 and Beyond, Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 2013. Datta-Ray, Deep K., The Making of Indian Diplomacy: A Critique of Eurocentrism, London: Hurst Publishers, 2015. Davies, Philip H.J., ‘Intelligence culture and intelligence failure in Britain and the United States’, Cambridge Review of International Affairs, Vol. 17, No. 3, 2004, pp. 495–520. Davies, Philip H.J., ‘Theory and Intelligence Reconsidered’, in Mark Phythian, Stephen Marrin and Peter Gill, Intelligence Theory: Key Questions and Debates, London: Rou­ tledge, 2009. Dhar, M.K., Open Secrets: India’s Intelligence Unveiled, New Delhi: Manas Publications, 2012. Dumbrell, John, ‘The Neoconservative Roots of the War in Iraq’, in James P. Pfiffner and Mark Phythian, Intelligence and National Security Policymaking on Iraq: British and American Perspectives, Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2008, pp. 19–40. Duyvesteyn, Isabelle, ‘Intelligence and Strategic Culture: Some Observations’, Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 26, No. 4, 2011, pp. 521–530. Fierke, K.M., ‘Critical Theory, Security, and Emancipation’, International Studies, 2010, p. 17, available at https://oxfordre.com/internationalstudies/view/10.1093/acrefore/ 9780190846626.001.0001/acrefore-9780190846626-e-138?print=pdf, accessed on 27 November 2019. Ford, Douglas, ‘Strategic Culture, Intelligence Assessment, and the Conduct of the Pacific War: The British-Indian and the Imperial Japanese Armies in Comparison, 1941–1945’, War in History, Vol. 14, No. 1, 2007.

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Ganguly, Sumit and Kapur, Paul S., ‘The Myth of Indian Strategic Restraint’, The National Interest, 18 July 2019, available at https://nationalinterest.org/feature/m yth-indian-strategic-restraint-63232?page=0%2C2, accessed on 23 September 2019. Garretson, Peter A., ‘Tanham in Retrospect: 18 Years of Evolution in Indian Strategic Culture’, South Asia Journal, 22 January 2013, available at http://southasiajournal.net/ tanham-in-retrospect-18-years-of-evolution-in-indian-strategic-culture, accessed on 31 October 2019. Gill, Peter and Mark Phythian, Intelligence in an Insecure World, Oxford: Polity Press, 2012. Goodman, Michael S. and Robert Dover, ‘Lessons Learned: What the History of British Intelligence Can Tell Us about the Future’, in Michael S. Goodman and Robert Dover, Learning from the Secret Past: Cases in British Intelligence History, Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 2011. Grabo, Cynthia, Handbook of Warning Intelligence: Assessing the Threat to National Security, Maryland: Rowman and Littlefield Publishers, 2010. Gray, Colin, ‘New Directions of Strategic Studies? How can Theory help Practice?’, Security Studies, Vol. 1, No. 4, 1992. Handel, Michael, ‘Surprise and Change in International Politics’, International Security, Vol. 4, No.4, 1980, pp. 57–85. Hastedt, Glenn, ‘The Politics of Intelligence and the Politicization of Intelligence: The American Experience’, Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 28, No. 1, 2013, pp. 5–31. Heuer Jr., Richards J., ‘Psychology of Intelligence Analysis’, Center for the Study of Intel­ ligence, available at www.cia.gov/library/center-for-the-study-of-intelligence/csi-p ublications/books-and-monographs/psychology-of-intelligence-analysis/Psycho fIntelNew.pdf, 27 November 2019. Honig, Or, ‘Surprise Attacks-Are They Inevitable? Moving Beyond the OrthodoxRevisionist Dichotomy’, Security Studies, Vol. 17, No. 1, 2008. Hopple, Gerald W. ‘Intelligence and Warning: Implications and Lessons of the Falklands Islands War’, World Politics, Vol. 36, No. 3, 1984. Jaishankar, Dhruva, ‘Ep. 85: India’s Strategic Culture’, The Pragati Podcast, 21 February 2019, available at https://ivmpodcasts.com/the-pragati-podcast-episode-list/2019/2/ 21/ep-85-indias-strategic-culture, accessed on 21 October 2019. Jervis, Robert, Why Intelligence Fails: Lessons from the Iranian Revolution and the Iraq War, Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2010. Jones, R.W., Security, Strategy, and Critical Theory, Colorado: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1999. Kalkavage, Matthew, ‘Counterintelligence in the Kingdom and the States’, Master’s Thesis Boston University, 14 April 2014, p. 31, available at www.bu.edu/pardee school/files/2014/08/Sample-Research-Paper-2.pdf, accessed on 10 September 2019. Kam, Ephraim, Surprise Attack: The Victim’s Perspective, Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2004. Kasturi, Bhashyam, Intelligence Services: Analysis, Organisation and Function, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 1995. Kathpalia, P.N., ‘Intelligence: Problems and Possible Solutions’, Indian Defence Review, Vol. 2, No. 1, 1986, pp. 133–135. Kent, Sherman, Strategic Intelligence for American World Policy, Princeton University Press, 1966. Knorr, Klaus, ‘Failures in National Intelligence Estimates: The Case of the Cuban Mis­ siles’, World Politics, Vol. 16, No. 3, 1964, pp. 455–467. Levite, Ariel, ‘Intelligence and Strategic Surprises Revisited: A Response to Richard K. Betts’s “Surprise, Scholasticism, and Strategy”’, International Studies Quarterly, Vol. 33, No. 3, 1989, pp. 345–349.

34 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Levite, Ariel, Intelligence and Strategic Surprises, New York: Columbia University Press, 1987. Lock, Edward, ‘Refining strategic culture: return of the second generation’, Review of International Studies, Vol. 36, 2010. Loughlin, Neil, ‘The Benefits and Disadvantages of Post-Positivism in International Theory’, E-International Relations, 20 January 2012, available www.e-ir.info/2012/01/ 20/what-are-the-benefits-and-disadvantages-of-post-positivism-for-internationa l-theory, accessed on 10 October 2019. Mahadevan, Prem, The Politics of Counterterrorism in India, London: I.B. Tauris, 2012. Marrin, Stephen, ‘Evaluating the Quality of Intelligence Analysis: By What (Mis) Mea­ sure?’, Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 17, No. 4, 2012, pp. 655–672. Marrin, Stephen, ‘Preventing Intelligence Failures by Learning from the Past’, Interna­ tional Journal of Intelligence and Counterintelligence, Vol. 17, No. 4, 2004, p. 658. Monsonis, Guillem, ‘India’s Strategic Autonomy and Rapprochement with the US’, Strategic Analysis, Vol. 34, No. 4, 2010. Morton, Louis, ‘National Security and Area Studies: The Intellectual Response to the Cold War’, The Journal of Higher Education, Vol. 34, No. 3, 1963, pp. 142–147. Mukherjee, Anit, ‘K. Subrahmanyam and Indian Strategic Thought’, Strategic Analysis, Vol. 35, No. 4, 2011. Mukherjee, Anit, The Absent Dialogue: Politicians, Bureaucrats, and the Military in India, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019. Murphy, David E., What Stalin Knew: The Enigma of Barbarossa, New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005. Pal Singh Sidhu, Waheguru, ‘Of Oral Traditions and Ethnocentric Judgements’, in Kanti Bajpai and Amitabh Mattoo, Strategic Thought and Practice, New Delhi: Manohar Publishers, 1996. Pant, Harsh, India’s Foreign Policy: Theory and Praxis, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2019. Paramesha Chaya, Dheeraj, ‘Seaborne terrorism and counterintelligence in India: chal­ lenges and concerns’, Journal of the Indian Ocean Region, Vol. 14, No. 3, 2018. Phythian, Mark, ‘Still a Matter of Trust: Post-9/11 British Intelligence and Political Culture’, International Journal of Intelligence and Counterintelligence, Vol. 18, No. 4, 2005, pp. 653–681. Phythian, Mark, ‘Cultures of National Intelligence’ in Michael S. Goodman, Robert Dover and Claudia Hilebrand, Routledge Companion to Intelligence Studies, 2014, pp. 33–41. Popli, M.L., ‘National Intelligence Assessments and Estimates: Whither our Joint Intel­ ligence Committee’, Indian Defence Review, October 1991, pp. 23–28. Raina, Asoka, Inside RAW: The Story of India’s Secret Service, New Delhi: Vikas Pub­ lishing House Pvt Ltd, 1981. Raman, B., The Kaoboys of R&AW: Down Memory Lane, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 2013. Roy-Chaudhury, Rahul, ‘India’, in Stuart Farson, Peter Gill, Mark Phythian and Shlomo Shapiro, PSI Handboook of Global Security and Intelligence: National Approaches, Volume I: The Americas and Asia, Westport, CT: Praeger, 2008, pp. 211–229. Sankaran Nair, K., Inside IB and RAW: The Rolling Stone that Gathered Moss, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 2016. Shiraz, Zakia and Richard J. Aldrich, ‘Secrecy, Spies and the Global South: Intelligence Studies beyond the ‘Five Eyes’ Alliance’, International Affairs, Vol. 95, No. 6, 2019. Subramaniam, Arjun, India’s Wars: A Military History 1947–1971, Noida: Harper Collins Publishers India, 2016.

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Subrahmanyam, K., Shedding Shibboleths: India’s Evolving Strategic Outlook, New Delhi: Wordsmith, 2005. Taleb, Nassim Nicholas, The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable, London: Penguin Books, 2007. Tanham, George, ‘Indian Strategic Thought: An Interpretive Essay’ in Kanti Bajpai and Amitabh Mattoo, Strategic Thought and Practice, New Delhi: Manohar Publishers, 1996. Van Reijn, Joop, ‘Intelligence and Strategic Culture: Essays on American and British Praxis since the Second World War’, Intelligence and National Security, Intelligence and Strategic Culture: Essays on American and British Praxis since the Second World War, Vol. 26, No. 4, 2011, pp. 441–444. Warner, Michael, ‘Theories of Intelligence’, in Robert Dover, Michael S. Goodman and Claudia Hillebrand, Routledge Companion to Intelligence Studies, London: Routle­ dge, 2014. Warner, Michael, ‘Wanted: A Definition of Intelligence’, Studies in Intelligence, Vol. 46, No. 3, 2002, available at www.cia.gov/library/center-for-the-study-of-intelligence/csi-p ublications/csi-studies/studies/vol46no3/article02.html, accessed on 27 January 2019. Wheaton, Kristian J. and Michael T. Beerbower, ‘Towards a New Definition of Intel­ ligence’, Vol. 17, No. 2, 2006. Whitford, William C. ‘Critical Empiricism’, Law & Social Inquiry, Vol. 14, No. 1, 1989. Wilmetts, Simon, ‘The Cultural Turn in Intelligence Studies’, Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 34, No. 6, 2019. Wohlstetter, Roberta, Pearl Harbor: Warning and Decision, California: Stanford University Press, 1962. Yadav, R.K., Mission R&AW, New Delhi: Manas Publications, 2014.

Section II

The Evolution of India’s Intelligence Culture

2

Kautilya’s Discourse on Secret

Intelligence in the Arthashastra

Introduction On 19 January 2010, the then Vice-President of India, Hamid Ansari, while delivering the 4th R.N. Kao memorial lecture, said: “we can go as far back as Kautilya to perceive the importance [of intelligence]. In fact, the methodological sophistication exhibited in Kautilya’s chapters on secret service and internal security can be read with benefit even today”.1 Throughout the lecture, Kautilya2 unfortunately never reappeared, nor was the ‘methodological sophistication’ elaborated in any detail. This episodic reference somewhat captures the state of the art in the study of intelligence in India. As the secondary literature referenced in this chapter will highlight, a rhetorical presentation of Kautilya’s Arthashastra as the root of Indian intelli­ gence philosophy has never been examined with either ideational or empiri­ cal evidence. This chapter makes an attempt to detail the intellectual depth in Kautilya’s Arthashastra in matters of foreign intelligence. It attempts to answer the question: how did the Kautilyan state ‘think about’ and ‘do’ intelligence in support of foreign and military policies? It forms the basis for the observation of modern-day Indian intelligence culture. The Arthashastra is an ideal starting point to observe ancient Indian wisdom on intelligence, as the text: “was in fact the final manifestation of [Indian knowledge], the traces of which are discernible in the Vedic literature and copiously found in the epics, puranas and literary works”.3 Most books on Indian intelligence are descriptive works, devoid of analytical rigour, while invariably beginning from the ancient times where Kautilya figures predominantly.4 Kautilya’s appearance in these works is unsurprising, as the trans­ lated versions of his Sanskrit text ‘Arthashastra’ by scholars R.P. Kangle, R. Sham­ sastry and L.N. Rangarajan have the word ‘spies’ used 58, 65 and 59 times respectively. A cursory glance through the text would give the readers an impres­ sion that the entire state was run by spies. This has led one renowned intelligence DOI: 10.4324/9781003296195-5

40 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises scholar to term the Kautilyan state as “the original surveillance state”.5 Therefore, there is a unanimous appropriation of Kautilya as the guru of intelligence in India, yet the guru bodhana (teachings) have been either misunderstood or insufficiently absorbed by students of intelligence. In order to avoid falling victim to such simplistic reading of the Arthashastra and interpret the latent meanings of intelligence in the text, a certain degree of specialisation in Intelligence Studies and knowledge of the civilizational history of India is important.6 The only scholar to have done this is a German political scientist, Michael Liebig, who regarded Kautilya “the first theorist in intelli­ gence”.7 Liebig, like other scholars, argued that intelligence is a key source of state power, but did so with a methodical analysis of the text. This chapter takes forward Liebig’s efforts; but the larger intention is to draw a cultural comparison to the modern-day external intelligence in India. There is, however, an impor­ tant caveat. It is beyond the scope of this book to observe empirically the extent to which Kautilya’s teachings on intelligence were applied by subsequent king­ doms in the subcontinent. The idea is simply to provide an understanding of how deeply ancient Indians had accepted intelligence as an essential state activity through the examination of an important text of that time. Thus, the cultural appraisal of secret foreign and military intelligence in the Kautilyan state, as presented in this chapter, is desired to act as a foundation to highlight how the post-independence Indian state and its intelligence services have been stripped off the Kautilyan character. To do so, the chapter begins by briefly explaining to the readers why the Arthashastra is an important and appropriate reference text. It then goes on to establish the basis for foreign intelligence in the Kautilyan state and then dwells on the methodologies involved in intelligence collection and analysis, the nature of relationship the Kautilyan intelligence services shared with the consumers and other international intelligence services, and lastly, the Kautilyan perspective on intelligence failures and surprises. Finally, the chapter extracts the key cultural traits that define the character of Kautilyan intelligence, which then become the elements of comparative analysis in the coming chapters. Through this exercise, it is the argument of this chapter that intelligence in the Kautilyan state was a state-driven activity as a consequence of the “knowledge culture” that was prevalent. From the next chapter onwards, the book reveals how the “knowledge culture” made way for a “reactive culture”, where intelligence morphed from being a state-driven activity to an individual-led endeavour.

The Arthashastra as the basis for the study of Indian Intelligence One of the most authoritative scholars and translators of the Arthashastra to English, L.N. Rangarajan used the phrase “an imaginary Kautilyan country”.8 The phrase is significant as the text Arthashastra is neither a historical treatise nor a memoir of Kautilya. It is widely recognised as a guidebook on statecraft; and the utopian country that emerges in the mind of the author is what Rangarajan termed ‘the imaginary country’.9 But then, what was the basis for the author’s imagination? It is here that the Arthashastra stands in fundamental contrast to

Kautilya’s Discourse on Strategic Intelligence

41

other scholars and thinkers like Machiavelli and Sun Tzu. Kautilya’s imaginary state reflected the author’s identity as a Hindu (not religious identity, but the identity of a person living in undivided India) and a scholar trained in the Indic methods of knowledge production. This section briefly expands on both of these aspects to enable better comprehension of the ideas of intelligence embedded in the Arthashastra. Topographically, the Kautilyan country was diverse with a variety of natural features like rivers, mountains, forests, plains, deserts and so on. Driven by gov­ ernance considerations, the economic and social activities took shape around the natural features and an elaborate system of fortifications and defences also existed to protect the empire. While these were the geographic and physical features of the Kautilyan country, what is important is the ideational aspect of the Kautilyan state that gave birth to the requirement of intelligence. Here, the Kautilyan state reflected the people that occupied the territory and the philosophy that guided their lives. The Hindu philosophy of life was guided by the four purusharthas (goals of human endeavours) – dharma, artha, kama and moksha. The last aspect being considered the final manifestation of spirituality could only be achieved through strict adherence of the other three facets. Artha loosely translates into wealth and kama is synonymous with pleasure, while dharma, the most important of the purusharthas, was the foundation of all human activity, which translates into a sense of duty, law, balance and restraint. The elevation of the purusharthas to the societal and political level is done under the assumption that order is central to existence and so far as the idea of national security is concerned, the employment of artha and kama, governed by dharma, is to ensure “internal well-being and external security”.10 The influence of these ideational aspects on intelligence in the Kautilyan state will be done in the next section. However, it is prudent to mention why the choice of the Arthashastra makes better sense given the availability of a vast number of literary works in ancient India that dwell on aspects of intelligence and statecraft. The word Arthashastra translates as ‘the science of wealth’, but the text is a thesis on governance and statecraft covering the disciplines of political science, economics and sociology. There are several other texts like the Dharmashastras, Nitishastras and even epics like Ramayana and Mahabharata that offer rich lessons in all these disciplines. However, where the Arthashastra stands out in comparison is the scholarly presentation of arguments by Kautilya. As noted by Kautilya himself, there were at least ten scholars of the Arthashastra before him.11 Kauti­ lya’s Arthashastra, being a normative “how to” text on statecraft, follows a dia­ lectic model of articulation and anviksiki (investigative science). Throughout the text, using a thorough conceptual investigation, Kautilya critically engages the works of other renowned scholars like Visalaksa, Parasara, Pisuna and Bahudanti, among others, before drawing his own conclusions. It is this intellectual engagement and dialectic tone of the text that makes it an ideal source to understand why and how intelligence was prescribed as an essential state activity, and what were the civilizational understandings on the theory of intelligence and surprise. The following sections make a comprehensive attempt in this direction.

42

India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises

The rationale for intelligence in the Kautilyan State Scholarship on the Arthashastra converge on one particular theme that is constant in the Kautilyan state – power. The source of this power, never­ theless, ignites a host of debates which ranges from the power of the military and economy (artha) to the power of morality (dharma).12 The strength of the seven constituent elements of the state (prakritis) – the king (swami/vijigısu), the councillors and minister (amatya), the territory and population (janapada), the fortified towns and cities (durga), the treasury (kosa), the force (danda) and the allies (mitra) – collectively constitute the power of the Kautilyan state. Beyond these tangible elements of national power, however, lies the most fundamental determinant of power, i.e. the power of knowledge, which has generated little attention. At the outset, it is important to emphasise that while reading the Arthashastra for the benefit of the modern times, the king has to be read interchangeably as the state. The most fundamental of all qualities expected of a king was the quality of intellect – a desire to learn, listen, grasp, retain, understand thor­ oughly and reflect on knowledge.13 The king had to be amenable to guidance by the councillors/ministers, who in turn were trained in all the arts and sci­ ences and possessed the ability to foresee things.14 What is to be noted here is that, the intellectual prowess of the councillors and ministers, according to Kautilya, could flow only from the intellectual quality of the king. To translate this to modern parlance, the strength of the institutions of a state is proportional to the nation’s strategic culture and the regime’s political culture. Kautilya has written that: “whatever character the king has, the other elements also come to have the same, for they are all dependent on him for their progress or downfall”.15 The idea of knowledge as power in the Arthashastra has its roots in the notion of Rajadharma (duty of the king)16. The first dharma (duty) of the king was to protect his people from enemies. The threefold representation of the king’s dharma towards his people were rakshana (protection), palana (administration) and yogakshema (welfare). In order to achieve this, the king had to be supported by an elaborate system of intelligence; and a huge chunk of the king’s daily routine was to be spent in tasking and receiving intelligence from secret agents.17 When not interacting with the spies, the king was to be in the com­ pany of elders (read experts) to learn from their experience and cultivate his intellect.18 Both external and internal security are given equal importance in the text. However, considering that this book concerns foreign and military policies, the focus shall be on only external intelligence. To offer a glimpse of the kind of intelligence the Kautilyan state sought for foreign and military policymaking, the following passage is drawn from the work of Liebig:

Kautilya’s Discourse on Strategic Intelligence

43

“with regard to foreign countries, such information is of great importance: what are the political, economic and military strengths and weaknesses of other states? Is there unrest among the people, are there conspiracies in the elite that can be exploited and reinforced? How can an enemy state be weakened materially and psychologically, including the covert killing of certain political actors? For Kautilya, intelligence is the indispensable foundation of foreign policy decision-making”.19 The passage quite succinctly covers both the informational and executional aspects of secret intelligence that were embedded in the Kautilyan state. There is a generic perception that the Kautilyan state was built with an intention of expansion, and hence, his theories fit well with a revisionist state seeking to overthrow the existing order.20 Kautilya indeed refers to the king as - – the one desiring to conquer – somewhat denoting that maintenance vijigısu of territorial status-quo was never an option. However, expansion of territory was not the primary motive driving conquests, but it was the expansion of wealth.21 Nevertheless, seen within the framework of rajadharma, it appears that the Kautilyan state, even while being expansionist, was fundamentally con­ cerned with the defence of its territory and people. Therefore, while observing the principles of intelligence as embedded in the Arthashastra one should not commit the mistake of presuming that they are inapplicable in a defensive nation like India. In fact, Kautilya’s advice for an offensive derives from achieving the necessary condition of a strong defence. He cautions that “before a king sets out on an expedition of conquest, he has to take steps to guard [the state]”.22 According to Medha Bisht, Kautilya’s policy of non-intervention is a policy which helps in the undisturbed enjoyment of the results of the past activities”.23 Hence, a defensive capacity is a requisite condition in the Kautilyan state irrespective of whether it later intends to attain the character of a status-quoist or a revisionist state. The­ oretically speaking, a defensive state, more than an aggressive state, would have to pay greater attention to intelligence.24 Therein lies the relevance of the power of knowledge as espoused by Kautilya to present-day India. Kautilya wrote that, “making enemies is a greater evil than loss of wealth. Loss of wealth endangers the treasury, making enemies endangers life [state survival]”.25 Therefore, by all means, intelligence attains centrality in the Kautilyan state. The knowledge, thus, required for state survival, also known as strategic intelligence, was the basis for policymaking in the Kautilyan state. According to him, “a king can reign only with the help of others; one wheel alone does not move a chariot”. In other words, the king cannot alone govern the state, he needs an effective intelligence organisation. With the support of an intelligence organisation and the advice of his ministers, the knowledge-driven statecraft can produce a unified nation of which the king will be the chakravartin (emperor/political unifier).26 Ergo, the Kautilyan statecraft was built on the power of knowledge and advice, aimed at the fulfilment of the political lea­ dership’s primary duty, which was the protection of the people. This was the

44 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises foundation on which the Kautilyan intelligence organisation stood. Statecraft without intelligence in the Kautilyan state was simply impractical.

Institution of Spies: Intelligence Modus Operandi in the Kautilyan State The Kautilyan intelligence organisation was predominantly composed of human intelligence (HUMINT) and organised systematically. The roles and responsibilities were allocated with the motive of guaranteeing informational advantage and ensuring secrecy. Secrecy was the primary character of the Kautilyan intelligence organisation, underlying both the intelligence profession and the decision-making process. A three-tier intelligence system existed in the Kautilyan state with the king and the chancellor (could also be read as the Minister for Intelligence) at the apex level followed by the station chiefs/ regional directors under whom a network of agents (collectors) operated. The intelligence operatives were classified as guda (clandestine/concealed), working under assumed identities or operational covers. Kautilya prescribes a degree of flexibility in assuming covers whilst paying attention to the situation. Known as vyanjanáh (occupational cover), the Arthashastra offers twenty-nine distinct categories of cover with fifty subcategories. The fundamental point Kautilya tries to convey through the record of covers is that the occupational cover had to be determined by the operational environment and mission objectives.27 While the king and the concerned chancellor were the principal recipients of intelligence reports, there was a system of regional hubs from where kapatika (intelligence officers) recruited and handled agents, received and assessed the raw intelligence, and transmitted the product in a cryptic form. The regional hubs or established offices were known as samstha, which represent subsidiary bureaus or stations; and the kapatika was the station chief. Despite the king being the overall driver of the state intelligence machinery, the regional hubs and the station chiefs were given considerable autonomy, as it was here that the intelligence and counterintelligence operations were planned and executed.28 The covers given for the station chiefs were that of a monk, householder (mostly a farmer) or trader. In modern intelligence parlance, the samstha would be called a ‘station’ in American intelligence or a ‘rezidentura’ in Russian intel­ ligence; and, the intelligence covers would be referred to as non-official covers (NOCs) by the former or an ‘illegal’ by the latter. Kautilya laid particular emphasis on the psychology and wisdom of the station chiefs in sensitive areas. He mentions that such officers must be: “non-seducible but are shown to be impelled by motives for actions that are associated with seducible parties”.29 The particular choice of the three occupational covers mentioned above emerges from the twin rationale of maintaining a network of spies and simul­ taneously raising finances to sustain operations. Monks, householders and

Kautilya’s Discourse on Strategic Intelligence

45

traders were allowed to easily interact with others from the same profession and develop an espionage network, while also earning money to supplement the secret funds.30 A farmer or a trader clearly enjoyed the advantage of finances whilst a monk enjoyed the privilege of having disciples and students at his service who could be employed in espionage roles. The bottom-line regarding station chiefs in the Arthashastra is that the cover should allow for operational ease and enable self-sufficiency in maintaining the spy nest. Intelligence scholars have found in Kautilya’s exposition an ideal theory for non-official covers (NOCs).31 Kautilya does recommend the use of diplomatic personnel in for­ eign nations to collect intelligence, recruit sources and participate in covert actions.32 However, considering the presence of a vast system of NOCs, it is discernible that he understood the limitations of diplomatic covers. The agents who reported to the station chiefs, and also the couriers who transmitted intelligence from the stations to the headquarters, are classified as “roving spies”. The institution of roving spies served the purpose of both intelligence collection and covert actions. The former is called sattri (spies) who collected intelligence for the station chiefs, while the latter included members of covert action units – tikshna (assassin), rasuda (poisoner), and other specialists in subversion.33 The roving spies were also important in communicating intel­ ligence from the regional hubs to the headquarters. In this regard, Kautilya emphasises both on cryptology as well as information security. Cryptology was given particular importance and Kautilya dwells into a series of encryption techniques and steganographic codes to be employed depending on the cir­ cumstances under which the information is being transmitted – some verbal, some non-verbal.34 With regards to communication, Kautilya understands the importance of timely and secure communication of intelligence. The agents responsible for headquarter-to-station communications and station-to-field communications were unknown to each other in order to ensure information security.35 With regards to timely dissemination of information, Kautilya encourages infrastructural development such as the development of trade routes for quick communication. The importance of this aspect becomes clear in the chapter on the 1962 war as weak communication infrastructure played a critical role in India’s dismal performance. The role of the sattri, i.e. the intelligence collector, is fairly straightforward. But the covert action part is something that needs elaboration. Considering the offensive nature of the Kautilyan state, and influenced by a simplistic reading of the text, there is a tendency to pass off the covert action portion as just para­ military and sabotage operations aimed at destroying the enemy. In fact, the entire Book XII is devoted to the utility of covert action for a weak king faced with a strong opponent. However, when one carefully observes the extent to which Kautilya prescribes maintaining covert capabilities, it is impossible to overlook the simultaneous benefits to strategic intelligence that the covert action capability brings. Within the methodology of subversive operations, Kautilya offers a series of positional and psychological factors of the target, which the intelligence officer must exploit. Psychological factors (vices) to be

46 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises exploited include anger, greed, fear, etc. while the positions that are to be tar­ geted are as high as the mahamatras (high-level officials) and the defence com­ manders.36 With access to the enemy’s strategic leadership and knowledge of the target’s psychological vulnerabilities, Kautilya’s thesis would undoubtedly secure a critical position in the HUMINT pedagogical manuals of modern-day intelligence schools.37 Therefore, Kautilya’s prescription for an effective covert action network should also be regarded as a potent foundation for intelligence collection. The case chapters will indeed highlight the critical role the pre­ sence/absence of covert action capabilities played in determining India’s knowledge of the enemy. As regards recruitment, the system was advised to function on an open market basis. In fact, a cursory reading of the Arthashastra gives an impression that everybody is spying on everybody else.38 A meticulous observation, however, reveals that there are three crucial factors driving recruitment – loyalty to the king/nation; subject matter expertise; and secrecy. Expertise refers both to an appropriate occupational cover without raising suspicions as well as knowledge of the area of operations. In this regard, Kautilya dictates the means to effectively exploit the varna system of the Hindu society to select the right agent for the right task. So, a monk could be a station chief/intelligence officer while a ‘wandering nun’ could be employed as a roving spy. To ensure loyalty to the nation, the chosen monk or nun should, first, pledge loyalty to the king; and, second, have renounced the practice of religion and assume the occupation only as a cover for espionage.39 Sudras (the worker community) were one of the most preferred communities for intelligence operations. Their access to the society made them an ideal pursuer of intelligence objectives – for both covert operations and counter­ intelligence.40 For instance, Kautilya’s prescription of using servants to monitor the integrity of state officials is closely replicated by several modern-day coun­ terintelligence states. N. Narasimhan, a former Indian spymaster, recollected from his days in China that his domestic help spying on him had made even free movement difficult. Consequently, official interactions with diplomats of other countries, especially the Soviets and Vietnamese, had become his only source of information.41 Thus, Kautilya’s prescriptions for spy recruitment relied extensively on context, access and ability of the individual. Reflecting the relevance of Kautilya’s recruitment patterns on modern-day intelligence systems, Stefano Musco has observed that: “building a reliable NOC requires a careful reading of the socio-political milieu in which the intelligence officers are sent, but also more creativity. Under this perspective, today political analysts, anthropologists and area experts can make great contribution…yesterday’s roving philosophers and teachers are today’s professors, researchers and PhD students”.42 Whatever be the professional cover, for Kautilya, integrity and loyalty was paramount – first to the nation and the intelligence profession, and then to the

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occupational cover. While professing how an individual could acquire an advisory position with the king, Kautilya recommends knowledge of political science and a subjugation to the eternal principles of dharma (law) and artha (wealth/economics). The intelligence officers were to swear loyalty to the king, and to prove this, they had to pass a series of tests based on dharma, artha and kama. The latter denotes pleasure and enjoyment, which in modern spy-craft would entail a list of entrapments; the most widely recognised one being the ‘honeytrap’. Kautilya recommends the use of a ‘wandering nun’, who in today’s world are famed by Soviet intelligence practitioners as ‘swallows’, to conduct honeytrap tests. In the early 1950s, for instance, at least three Indian diplomats codenamed PROKHOR, RADAR and ARTUR were known to have been seduced by Soviet swallows that enabled Moscow to decrypt Indian diplomatic communications.43 Hence, to avoid such undesirable occurrences and obtain the best from the intelligence officers, the Arthashastra advocates integrity, expertise and secrecy as mandatory qualities to seek from the market. Recruitment of agents was on the basis of legal contracts that ensured relia­ bility of the source and enhanced credibility of the information.44 The intelli­ gence officers were protected financially through the secret funds both to sustain themselves as well as the intelligence network. Clandestine agents were protected within an extra-legal framework. The Kautilyan state had a stringent judicial mechanism to punish fraudsters and criminals. These laws, however, did not apply to the clandestine agents; and, any contract with them, irrespec­ tive of the intent, was considered valid.45 Nevertheless, to negotiate the hurdles of misinformation and duplication of intelligence, the mis-doers were usually rewarded with death. At the same time, Kautilya is judicious with the treat­ ment of the spies and intelligence officers, and advises them that, in the event of the king depriving the personnel of wealth and honour, the officers/agents might abandon the king.46 This is not to be regarded as a license for treason, but merely an approval of resignation. The pledge of loyalty to the state, according to the Arthashastra, shall remain eternal. In fact, Kautilya suggests that the resigned officials have to make use of the king’s friend/ally to rectify the defects of the master and then return to the king.47 In today’s terms, this would probably mean using the legal and judicial means to rectify the ills of the system, if at all there is provision for such actions. Finally, notwithstanding the antiquity of the Arthashastra, the text also provides some pointers that one could juxtapose with the present-day HUMINT versus TECHINT debate.48 In advising the king to conduct deliberations in secrecy, Kautilya cautions against the presence of birds and animals in the vicinity. When reading his words, “secrecy of deliberations has been breached by parrots and starlings, even by dogs and other animals”, one is reminded of technical gadgets like bugs, drones, and other signals intelligence devices that are either static or mobile but serve the purpose of intelligence collection.49 Today, as technical means are preferred mainly for verifiability, penetration and reduced risk to human lives, birds and animals were probably chosen to reduce the risk of double crossing by agents and gain greater access without raising suspicions.

48 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises However, as the inherent weaknesses in TECHINT such as its susceptibility to enemy deception and the exorbitant procurement and maintenance costs make HUMINT the more preferred means of intelligence collection, Kautilya too barely shows any interest in such means except as a reminder for the need of stringent counterintelligence measures.

Production of Knowledge: Intelligence Analysis in the Kautilyan State Despite knowledge being the basis of Kautilyan statecraft, it is impossible to find any direct mention of intelligence analysis in the Arthashastra. While the exposition on intelligence collection is vast, the text demands a purposeful reading by an intelligence scholar to fathom the tenets of intelligence analysis. In so doing, it becomes evident that Kautilya has a colossal body of inputs to offer on analysis for foreign and military policymaking. An economics scholar who has devised a statistical equation to calculate power on the basis of the Arthashastra ranks intelligence analysis as the most important factor in enhancing national security.50 Analysis, for Kautilya, begins right at the level of the station chiefs, before the reports are sent to the headquarters for strategic analysis. As the previous section mentioned, there were legit deterrents against duplication and misinformation. Yet, Kautilya does not discount the possibility of mis­ reporting and enemy deception. He therefore opines that any information that has been corroborated by three different spies shall be taken to be true.51 At the all-source level of assessment, Kautilya divides the advisory business into two groups. In the first group, which is mostly about making sense of the enemy by bringing together intelligence reports from different departments, Kautilya refrains from putting a ceiling on the number of participants in the allsource analysis body. He simply says, “according to capacity” (yathásámarthyam). 52 The term ‘capacity’ has to be interpreted as strength commensurate with the issue at hand. The other group is the core group that deliberates on the action to be taken; and, here Kautilya limits the membership to precisely four mem­ bers. According to the Arthashastra, the king is the chief of the analytical body. In fact, modern-day American intelligence scholars have only recently begun to argue that policymakers are also intelligence analysts, and hence, the danger of the policymaker rejecting professional intelligence analysis is ever-present.53 Kautilya, however, had observed this factor two millennia ago and thus recommended that the king lead the analytical process. However, he does so with two underlying premises. First, the king had to be knowledgeable and well-versed in the sastras [sci­ ences], mostly political science. Collocating this recommendation to present day policymaking would mean that the foreign and military policymakers need to have expertise on the subjects they are dealing with. However, considering the unreliability of such utopia, Kautilya makes the second recommendation, that the king should have the quality of learning, listening, grasping, retaining, understanding thoroughly and reflecting on knowledge. This he ought to do in the

Kautilya’s Discourse on Strategic Intelligence

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company of four advisers to avoid the problems of single source persuasion, groupthink, or an information scarcity/abundance.54 Having done so, Kauti­ lya leaves it to the wisdom of the king, who is well versed in the sastras himself, to either take a decision or consult any other subject matter expert.55 This segment requires greater elaboration and the following paragraphs attempt to make sense of it. In essence, the methodology mentioned in the previous para encompasses Sherman Kent’s description of strategic intelligence as an organisation, activity and product.56 The qualities ‘learning, listening and grasping’ are the root ideas of the formation of an intelligence activity. The purpose of Kautilya’s emphasis on an elaborate system of intelligence collection is to service the learning, listening and grasping qualities of the king. In other words, the intelligence collectors operate to inform the decision-making apparatus of the state. The next two qualities – ‘retaining and understanding thoroughly’ – are qualities that give birth to analysis and organisation. By retention and comprehension, Kautilya is essen­ tially alluding to the importance of strategic analysis and institutional memory. To use Sherman Kent’s words, this forms what is known as the “descriptive element” of strategic intelligence.57 The descriptive element is derived only through knowledgeable people supported by institutional memory, who then receive the current intelligence inputs provided by the station chiefs. The infor­ mation provided by the station chiefs is what Kent terms, the “reportorial element”.58 The descriptive element is actually where the bulk of the organisational ener­ gies are invested. Unlike the mantra of the British intelligence that “intelligence is about secrets, not mysteries”,59 intelligence activity in the Kautilyan state, whilst heavily leaning on unearthing secrets, was particularly geared towards sol­ ving mysteries for the policymaker.60 Based on the secrets gathered by the secret agents, the analysts run a strategic assessment based on the theory of sapta-nga (seven parts/comprehensive national power) – derived from the seven prakriti [elements] of national power. Kautilya believes an enemy’s intentions can be fathomed from the assessment of the comprehensive national power, which is the sum total of the seven elements – the king, minister, people, fortress, treasury, army and alliances. The credit for identification of this methodology of analysis must go to Liebig who writes that the “concept of state power as an aggregate of seven prakritis provides excellent theoretical tools for intelligence analysis” [emphasis original].61 However, Liebig falls short in exploring strategic culture as an aspect of intelligence analysis. Liebig’s exclusion of strategic culture is understandable, as Kautilya, by default, presumes an aggressive intent on part of the enemy and also the stra­ tegic environment in which the Kautilyan state exists is composed of Hindu societies where patterns of thought and actions are fairly uniform. In the modern scenario, however, where each nation-state operates on independent notions of history, tradition and interests, culture forms an important aspect of decision-making.62 As the case chapters in this book shall reveal, it was this factor more than anything else that inhibited analysis of the enemy’s intentions.

50

India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises

For Kautilya, nonetheless, knowledge of the enemy’s strategic culture was crucial. According to the Arthashastra, it is not only important to know the sapta-nga analysis of the enemy but also how the enemy perceives his own national power.63 To elaborate, Kautilya suggests that the sapta-nga framework of analysis should lead to the prediction of the enemy’s actions/policies, which are confined within sa-dgunya [basic measures of foreign policy]. Although it might seem simple and clear to draw a correlation between sapta-nga and sa-dgunya, i.e. the state power and foreign policy choices, Kautilya cautions that there might be deviations from the norm. The sa-dgunya (foreign policy choices) that Kautilya offers are:64 1 2 3 4 5 6

Samdhi [peace]: the rival state is stronger and will remain so in the fore­ seeable future. Vigraha [war]: the rival is vastly inferior in power. Asana [neutrality]: the correlation of forces is balanced.

Ya-na [war preparation, coercive diplomacy]: one’s own power is rising

vis-à-vis the rival state. Sams´raya [alliance building]: the rival state’s power is rising faster than one’s own. Dvaidh-ıbha-va [diplomatic double game]: the constellation among rivals and allies is very fluid.

Notwithstanding the logical soundness of the sa-dgunya theory, Kautilya shows maturity in offering a series of alternatives that recognise the fact that an enemy need not behave according to the tenets of the sa-dgunya theory. A series of hypothetical scenarios are built in Book VII, and consequently policy pre­ scriptions are presented.65 What this essentially conveys to an analyst is that, whilst social sciences can offer methodological frameworks for analysis, it is the empirical observations of the enemy’s strategic culture that allows objective analysis and production of estimates. That the observation of the enemy’s stra­ tegic culture was central to Kautilya’s military policy and planning is an important factor and is revisited in the later section while discussing the intel­ ligence-military relationship. However, before moving there, it is necessary to briefly examine the analytical models and prescriptions made in the Arthashastra, that have remained valid to this day. Kautilya’s reflection on the numerical representation in the all-source analysis organisation is not merely a quantitative articulation, but a well thought out strategy against common analytical challenges observed by intelligence scho­ lars.66 It appears that Kautilya was clearly aware of the impact of psychological and structural impediments to analysis and dissemination. The Arthashastra argues that the decision-making process is on flimsy grounds if the ruler relies on a single analyst. Similarly, relying on two or three analysts will give rise to “groupthink” or “conflicting analysis”.67 Kautilya thus warns that, “holding consultations with two [or three analysts], he [the king] is controlled by [them]

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68

if united and ruined by them if at war with each other”. With four analysts, Kautilya regards such occurrences difficult, but not impossible.69 In order to caution against such hazards, modern-day scholars of intelligence analysis like Richards Heuer, Jr. have advocated the use of “devil’s advocacy” and “ana­ lysis of competing hypothesis” models to eliminate psychological and mental constraints to analysis and improve predictability.70 Kautilya does not expli­ citly mention any such analytical models, but they are embedded in the advice he offers to the king while consulting his analysts. Accordingly, the king must consult the analysts both “individually” and “jointly” and in so doing must “ascertain their different opinions along with their reasons for holding them”.71 Therefore, by extension, all theories and hypotheses that the analysts held were subject to scrutiny by the consumer.

Intelligence-Consumer Relationship in the Kautilyan State On the basis of the descriptive and reportorial elements, Kautilya has drawn attention to the last quality, i.e. ‘reflecting on knowledge’. This is what Kent terms the “speculative element” that essentially goes on to become the intelli­ gence product.72 In fact, the sa-dgunya theory is meant to facilitate the produc­ tion of intelligence estimates, which are futuristic and predictive by nature. Nonetheless, the speculative element acquires a unique character, as it is this segment that interacts with the consumers of intelligence. It is here that the intelligence cycle approaches a full rotation and meets the consumers. Kautilya has shown profoundness in giving due importance to both professional intelli­ gence analysis and political analysis. The text forbids the king from taking unilateral decisions. Yet, realising its inevitability, Kautilya warns that such decisions must remain within the confines of the sastras (sciences) in order to limit any potential disaster. It is indeed astonishing how Kautilya’s perspectives on intelligence-consumer relationship are so closely reflective of modern-day challenges. The Arthashastra never steered away from analytical objectivity, as it required the analysts to swear by the nation and pledge adherence to dharma and artha. Based on this intentional purity, Kautilya has asserted that in matters of national interest the analysts must speak without procrastination.73 This is an indication that Kauti­ lya prioritised objectivity and earnestness over concerns of ‘cry-wolf’ syndrome affecting consumer receptibility. Politicisation of intelligence was outrightly unpardonable. Analysts had to refrain from presenting analysis with the purpose of pleasing the monarch.74 Yet, the analysts were also cautioned about the ills of upsetting the monarch with unsavoury reports. In these conditions, Kautilya recommends maintaining silence over reporting something that is unwelcome and likely to provoke the king. Modern intelligence scholars are likely to dis­ agree with this suggestion. However, putting it in the right perspective might invoke a thought process regarding Kautilya’s perspective on intelligence-con­ sumer relationship.

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India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises

As mentioned earlier, in the Kautilyan state, it was mandatory for the king to consult the intelligence organisation and his other councillors before taking any decision. In this multi-agency all-source analytical process, the Kautilyan system comes to resemble the British Joint Intelligence Committee in structure where the representatives of the Secret Intelligence Service (SIS/MI6), Foreign and Commonwealth Office, Ministry of Defence, Home Office, HM Treasury, Cabinet Office and any other department meet on a need basis, discuss and deliberate and finally submit a consensual report to the political leadership.75 However, in effect, the Kautilyan system operated like the American system where dissenting voices were also presented to the consumer.76 This happened both because the monarch was a party to the all-source deliberations as well as a reviewer of the analysts’ conclusions (mentioned in the previous section). Notwithstanding the ceiling on membership in the all-source analytical orga­ nisation to four people, it was still considered impossible to avert the negative ramifications of contrarian reports and suggestions on the monarch’s decisionmaking faculties. It was against this backdrop that Kautilya advised the analysts not to present any report that, short of an all-department consensus, was poised to upset the king. He has written that: “even competent people may be cast out if they say unwelcome things; and, undesirable people who know the mind and inclinations of the monarch may become favourites”.77 The merits of Kautilya’s prescription may, nevertheless, invoke differences among scholars. But insofar as Kautilya was concerned, intelligence-consumer relationship was given greater priority over, what would be termed today as, analytical professionalism. The other important consumer of intelligence – more so from this book’s point of view – the military, also figures prominently in the Arthashastra. According to Kautilya, the commander-in-chief had to be a thorough intel­ lectual besides being an operational genius. With relation to intelligence, it was mandatory that he had a clear knowledge of the capabilities of the enemies, the allies and the neutral kingdoms; the types of armies – hereditary troops [maula], hired troops [bhrita] and mercenaries [sreni]; and, the strength of the cavalry, elephants, weapons and other war equipment.78 Yet, as a policy analyst, he also had to be aware of the conditions that facilitated a particular military decision. In other words, the commander-in-chief had to be aware of the enemy’s stra­ tegic culture.79 Kautilya has written that the commander-in-chief has to be “trained in the science of all kinds of fights and weapons”, which suggests a mandatory requirement of theoretical knowledge on warfare.80 However, he also uses the term pratyan-ıkam, which signified military planning in accordance with the military posture of the enemy.81 This meant that the commander-in-chief, not only required a thorough understanding of warfare in theory, but also a com­ prehensive appreciation of the enemy’s understanding and application of the

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principles of warfare. Such intellectual pursuit in modern parlance would be termed ‘professional military education’. In intelligence analysis, however, edu­ cation is about possessing two-dimensional knowledge, i.e. theoretical and empirical, a lack of which is held accountable for “mirror-imaging” – a situation where the analysts assume that, given the circumstances, the other side is likely to behave the same way as we would.82 To avoid falling victim to such cognitive traps, Kautilya has deemed an all-faceted knowledge of the enemy critical. As the case chapters shall reveal, it was this crucial aspect that was missing in both the 1962 and 1999 wars. Operational and tactical intelligence aspects are fairly straight-forward and self-explanatory throughout the text. Therefore, to sum up, according to the Arthashastra, no war or battle could be conducted without strategic intelligence. This led the Kautilyan state to function on a vibrant intelligence-consumer relationship. It was accepted that decision-makers were also analysts, operating at an extremely crucial stage of policymaking. In this regard, the system desired a balance by tailoring intelligence reports to suit consumer needs whilst emphasising on consumer education to avoid intellectually poor decisions that would invite disasters.

The Role of Intelligence Alliances in the Kautilyan State International intelligence alliances and co-operation is another area where Kautilyan thoughts are a clear reflection of the nature of modern-day liaison networks. The Arthashastra does not make any explicit mention of intelligence liaisons, but an intelligence scholar cannot escape the temptation to draw inferences from Kautilya’s exposition on inter-state alliances. Within this fra­ mework, he clearly mentions all the challenges and opportunities that today’s international intelligence alliances face. The Arthashastra has argued that alliances are built either for consolidation of power or expansion of the kingdom.83 The moral basis for a state’s actions (rajad­ harma), aimed at achieving the welfare of the people (yogakshema), therefore, does not apply to the conduct of alliances. Kautilya places alliances as the only external factor in calculating the state power but is realistic in observing the ‘need-based/ self-interest driven’ character of the allies. Applying this character to modern day intelligence operations, it appears as though he is echoing the age-old intelligence dictum that ‘there are no friendly secret services, there are only secret services of friendly states.’ In other words, “clandestine agencies pursue national interests ruthlessly against friends and foes alike”.84 One intelligence scholar has described this interplay between intelligence and international politics as “adaptive realism”.85 Accordingly, intelligence allows ‘smart’ states to maximise power and security through creation of effective strategies, alliances and balancing against adversaries. Hence, intelligence liaisons cannot be judged on how they operate, rather they ought to be judged on why they exist. In this regard, both the Kautilyan theory of intelligence as well as modern western theories of intelligence meet and agree that intelligence

54

India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises

alliances are built solely for the maximisation of one’s own power. Consequently, states have had to pay careful attention to the intention and the capacity of the alliance partner. Theoretically speaking, when several criteria demand close co-operation between intelligence services, a strategic partnership logically emerges. Tactical alliances, for their part, are a result of certain interests meeting; and the costs of strategic partnerships being deemed too high. The criteria for strategic alliances that Kautilya has laid down are – an ally of the family for a long time (read: ideological partners), amenable to control, powerful in support, sharing a common interest, ability to extend reach and is ‘not a man who betrays’. 86 Modern international intelligence relationships are also built on such ideological characteristics which are of strate­ gic nature (the Five-Eyes or the Warsaw Pact intelligence services). These rela­ tionships are also crafted on the basis of mutual interests – anti-communism driven co-operation between the NATO countries; and, tactical arrangements, for instance between the U.S. and Syria against Sunni extremism.87 Intelligence co-operation is not only about sharing information and assessments but also sharing assets and territory, which is what Kautilya called the ‘ability to extend reach’. The U.S.-Pakistan intelligence liaison through the Cold War and later is a perfect illustration of this factor.88 Finally, Kautilya’s pointer - ‘not a man who betrays’ – is what has caused several difficulties and dilemmas in most interna­ tional intelligence relationships.89 These concerns cover a range of issues from source protection to an abidance with the ‘third party rule’ that forbids sharing of intelligence received from one party with another. The dilemma in establishing intelligence relationships is aptly reflected in Kautilya’s words: “[the gains of alliances] cannot be computed simply as a mathematical calculation… one should take into account the overall benefit which includes the immediate gain as well as potential future gain. Sometimes, it may even be advisable to forgo any apparent benefits”.90 However, from the perspective of weaker nations like India, Kautilya’s pro­ phecy needs careful attention. In, what he has termed, ‘exceptionally unequal’ relationships, only one party in the alliance receives disproportionate benefits.91 To be clear, in intelligence it is difficult to measure strength. One agency might be well-funded, while another might have information dominance in a parti­ cular geography pertaining to the former’s interests. Therefore, accepting the fact that the power balance in intelligence relationships are never constant, one can learn from the Arthashastra that alliances have to be judged on the basis of one’s own utility and, thereby, be concluded as “acceptable or hostile” part­ nerships.92 For instance, Kautilya has written that, if a stronger state is experi­ encing a crisis, it is in the interest of the smaller state to accept the alliance proposal but make unreliable contributions.93 In the modern world, this is exactly what Pakistan has been doing with the U.S. post-9/11. Threats of being bombed back to stone age by Richard Armitage, the then Assistant

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55

Secretary of State, compelled the Pakistani Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) agency to initiate co-operation with regards to Afghanistan, but as decades have passed it is only getting clearer that the ISI reaped the benefits of the alliance, while offering little strategic value to the Central Intelligence Agency.94 Similarly, if a stronger nation seeks the co-operation of a weaker nation in another instance with much lesser survival stakes, then the weaker nation, according to Kautilya, can enjoy the liberty of either accepting it or rejecting the proposal as ‘hostile’.95 This is a condition where the weaker nation gets lesser than it is entitled to receive by entering into an alliance, but a lot more to lose by thriving in it. As the later chapters in this book will highlight, this is exactly how India’s intelligence relationships with the Anglo-American agen­ cies have evolved. Thus, the bottom-line for a Kautilyan theory of intelligence alliances is that a thorough cost-benefit analysis plus a situational assessment should determine if a particular alliance can assume a strategic, tactical or hostile character. To conclude this section, a quote from the Arthashastra: “a friend keeps up his friendship as long as money is forthcoming. Thus, the determination of the comparative seriousness of the calamities to the various elements of sovereignty [is inevitable]”.96 Therefore, notwithstanding the security situation and threat perception, the sovereignty of one’s own turf is more important than upholding the principles of an intelligence alliance.

Kautilya’s Perspective on Intelligence Failures and Surprises Intelligence failures and surprises in the Arthashastra are represented as vyasana [calamities/vices]. Kautilya perceived surprises as occurrences that have a psy­ chological effect on the happiness of a person.97 To him, national security was paramount as the security of the state was the aggregate security of the people. However, what does the Arthashastra have to say about aversion of surprises/calamities? Does Kautilya suggest that intelligence is failproof? Kau­ tilya does not provide a clear-cut answer to this question but appears to take a middle path, as he championed an elaborate intelligence system, but at the same time argued vociferously for military preparedness, which suggests that he did consider intelligence to have its limitations. The entire Book VIII of the Arthashastra is dedicated to the understanding and remedying of the calamities. They could occur in any one of the prakritis (con­ stituent elements) and Kautilya has offered remedial measures to fix each and every one of them. The extensive network of spies working as a counterintelligence shield was meant specially to overcome the vices of men who were employed as ministers or personnel in the army or treasury; or even that of an ally. The reme­ dial measures addressed both psychological and organisational discrepancies. Organisational loopholes included corruption, subversion etc. that could be fixed

56 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises by counterintelligence measures while psychological shortcomings like greed, lust, etc. could effectively be tackled through disciplining measures.98 According to Kautilya, maintenance of peace and prosperity, to a large extent, depended on preparedness. Foresight formed the basis of preparations; but foresight as a quality was not entirely a derivative of facts and intelligence alone. One’s intuition also had a great role to play in determining decisions.99 Intuition should not imply that astrology was the basis of decision-making in the Kautilyan state. In fact, Kautilya argued that: “wealth will slip away from that childish man who constantly consults the stars. The only guiding star of wealth is wealth itself; what can the stars of the sky do?”100 This is also not to suggest that Kautilya did not believe in divine interventions.101 It is just the principle of ‘prevention is better than cure’ that Kautilya was alluding to. In matters of economy and security, Kautilya relied more on knowledge and power over astrology and divine dispensation (daiva). Even when he prescribed the appointment of priests, he demanded that the candidate be: “thoroughly trained in the Veda with its auxiliary sciences, in divine sci­ ence, in omens and in the science of politics and capable of counteracting divine and human calamities by means of Atharvan remedies.” [emphasis added]102 Thus, Kautilya argued that intelligence was absolutely necessary to predict the future. His conviction for intelligence is visible when he asserts that “if the cause of [the calamity] is knowable, and hence, foreseeable, its origin is human”.103 In short, it is an intelligence failure. Yet, in matters of national security, he regards maximisation of defence capabilities as the safest bet.104 Mantrashakti (knowledge/intellectual power) was best exploited alongside prab­ havshakti (hard power) and utsahashakti (intangibles like morale, energy, cour­ age, spirit).105 Thus, the Kautilyan state was built on the power of knowledge, but this knowledge has also taught the king that material strength was equally important in statecraft. In other words, a strong military capability is as impor­ tant as intelligence warnings in averting strategic surprises.

Kautilyan Intelligence Culture in Summation In summary, the Kautilyan state was based on knowledge and foresight. The latter was a derivative of the former. Simply put, the Kautilyan state was intel­ ligence literate. Because of such literacy, intelligence institutions took shape and the consumers were mandated to engage with the intelligence institutions on a regular basis. Organisationally, the operational culture was marked by proac­ tiveness and vibrancy to cater to the consumers’ needs, while the consumers, for their part, had to sustain a culture of intellectual curiosity to sufficiently

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appreciate the utility and limitations of intelligence. A systemic level of pro­ fessionalism existed to reward the meritorious and punish the worthless; and, international intelligence co-operation was marked by a realistic cost-benefit analysis. Finally, alongside secret intelligence, other deterrent capabilities were also given equal importance. Thus, the evolution of the Kautilyan intelligence culture owes it to the “knowledge culture” of the Kautilyan state. Knowledge culture by definition entails: “knowing who we are…the values, beliefs and behavioural norms that determines the success of knowledge management. [This] ranges from the highly explicit, visible organisational structures and procedures to those highly tacit, largely out-of-awareness, deeply imprinted core beliefs that guide [the states’] behaviour”. [emphasis added]106 As the Kautilyan state firmly believed in knowledge as the basis for survival, the successful management of knowledge at the organisational and systemic levels was achieved through intellectualism and operational finesse. It was this knowledge culture that went missing from the post-independence Indian state and led to severe weaknesses in the intelligence organisation. As the coming chapters will expose, the top-down approach of the Kautilyan state escaped the Indian state, leaving much of the burden on intelligence managers. Far-sight­ edness was replaced by myopia; operational courage was replaced by a culture of risk aversion; and most importantly, the knowledge-based policymaking was replaced by adhocism. How did this come to happen? What factors intervened in determining the modern Indian intelligence culture? Understanding the death of the Kautilyan state and the birth of the modern Indian state requires investigation of an important intervening variable, i.e. colonialism. In addition, as post-independence intelligence bureaucracies trace their origins to the colo­ nial period, a study of the British legacy on Indian intelligence culture is inevitable. The following chapter explores this.

Notes 1 Hamid Ansari, ‘Oversight and Accountability’, Outlook, 19 January 2010, available at www.outlookindia.com/website/story/ensure-oversight-and-accountability/ 263861, accessed 1 November 2019. 2 Kautilya, also known as Chanakya and Vishnugupta, was the royal adviser of the Mauryan Empire and the author of the Arthashastra. Although many believe the text to be from the 2nd century BCE–3rd century CE, the exact dating of the text, as with the periodisation of Indian history in general, has been seriously contested by scholars. 3 S.D. Trivedi, Secret Services in Ancient India: Techniques and Operations, Bombay: Allied Publishing House, 1988, p. xix. 4 Ibid; Asoka Raina, Inside RAW: The Story of India’s Secret Service, Ghaziabad: Vikas Publishing House Pvt Ltd, 1981, pp. 2–6; Bhashyam Kasturi, Intelligence Services: Analysis, Organisation and Function, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 1995, pp. 17– 18; Manila Rohatgi, Spy System in Ancient India, Delhi: Kalpaz Publications, 2007.

58 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises 5 Philip H.J. Davies, ‘The Original Surveillance State: Kautilya’s Arthashastra and Government by Espionage in Classical India’, in Philip H.J. Davies and Kristian Gustafson (eds), Intelligence Elsewhere: Spies and Espionage outside the Anglosphere, Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 2013, pp. 49–66. 6 K. Gjesdal, ‘Hermeneutics’, Oxford Bibliographies, 21 May 2019, available at www. oxfordbibliographies.com/view/document/obo-9780195396577/ obo-9780195396577-0054.xml, accessed on 1 November 2019. 7 Michael Liebig, ‘Kautilya’s relevance for India today’, India Quarterly, Vol. 66, No. 2, 2013, p. 103. 8 L.N. Rangarajan, Kautilya: The Arthashastra, Gurgaon: Penguin Random House, 1992, p. 27. 9 For an elaboration on the taxonomies of imagination, see: ‘Imagination’, Stanford Encyclopaedia of Philosophy, 22 January 2019, available at https://plato.stanford.edu/ entries/imagination, accessed 1 November 2019. 10 Medha Bisht, Kautilya’s Arthashastra: Philosophy of Strategy, London: Routledge, 2019, p. 12. 11 Ibid, p. 24. 12 G. Modelski, ‘Foreign Policy and International System in the Ancient Hindu World’, The American Political Science Review, Vol. 58, No. 3, 1964, pp. 549–560. 13 R. Shamasastry, Kautilya’s Arthashastra, Mysore: Sri Raghuveer Printing Press, 1951, pp. 3–212. 14 Ibid, p. 20. 15 Rangarajan, The Arthashastra, 1992, p. 101. 16 The term dharma is a slippery one, with varied meanings, owing to the lack of an equivalent word in English. Depending on the context, as is the case with this chapter, dharma means law, duty, morality and righteousness. Rajadharma is the law of governance which dictates that the king’s action be driven by morality, ethics and righteousness. 17 Ibid, p. 123. 18 Kautilya, Arthashastra, 1.7.1 (The first number corresponds to the book number in Kautilya’s Arthashastra. There is a total of 15 books. The second number denotes the chapter while the final number refers to the particular sutra within the chapter). Source of English translation: R.P. Kangle, The Kautilya Arthashastra, Bombay: University of Bombay, 1963. 19 Liebig, Kautilya’s relevance for India today, 2013, pp. 103–104. 20 Shyam Saran, How India Sees the World: Kautilya to the 21st Century, New Delhi: Juggernaut, 2017, pp. 29–30. 21 Patrick Olivelle, ‘Economy, Ecology, and National Defence in Kautilya’s Artha­ sastra’, in P.K. Gautam, Saurabh Mishra and Arvind Gupta, Indigenous Historical Knowledge: Kautilya and His Vocabulary (Volume III), New Delhi: Pentagon Press, 2016, p. 10. 22 Medha Bisht, ‘Bargaining and Negotiation Analysis: Lessons from Arthashastra’, in P.K. Gautam, Saurabh Mishra and Arvind Gupta, Indigenous Historical Knowledge: Kautilya and His Vocabulary (Volume III), New Delhi: Pentagon Press, 2016, p. 105. 23 Ibid, p. 111. 24 George O’Toole, ‘Kahn’s Law: a universal principle of intelligence?’, International Journal of Intelligence and CounterIntelligence, Vol. 4, No. 1, 1990, p. 39. 25 Kautilya, Arthashastra, 8.3.18. 26 Michael Leibig, ‘Statecraft and Intelligence Analysis in the Kautilya-Arthashastra’, in P.K. Gautam, Saurabh Mishra and Arvind Gupta, Indigenous Historical Knowledge: Kautilya and His Vocabulary (Volume III), New Delhi: Pentagon Press, 2016, p. 42.

27 Kautilya, Arthashastra, 1.11.1–1.12.25.

28 Shamasastry, Kautilya’s Arthashastra, 1951, p. 30.

29 Kautilya, Arthashastra, 1.12.25.

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30 Kautilya, Arthashastra, 1.11.9–1.11.13. 31 Stefano Musco, ‘The art of meddling: a theoretical, strategic and historical analysis of non-official covers for clandestine Humint’, Defense and Security Analysis, Vol. 33, No. 4, 2017, pp. 380–394. 32 Leibig, ‘Statecraft and Intelligence Analysis in the Kautilya-Arthashastra’, 2016, p. 38. 33 Rangarajan, The Arthashastra, 1992, p. 470. 34 Kautilya, Arthashastra, 1.12.11. 35 Ibid. 36 Kautilya systematically directs the spies to look out for individuals in the enemy kingdom who are victims of misfortune and offended by the king, impoverished, ambitious, and/or haughty. Such individuals must be then seduced by the spies (through monetary or amorous means). See: Kautilya, Arthashastra, 1.14.6.; To appreciate the strategic utility of Kautilya’s prescriptions, it is beneficial to observe the case of Ashraf Marwan – Israeli spy in Egypt. Marwan’s psychological and positional profiling plus the strategic gains realised by the Israeli intelligence by recruiting him offers the reader a validating insight into the Kautilyan philosophy of intelligence. See: Uri Bar-Joseph, The Angel: The Egyptian Spy who saved Israel, London: Harper Collins, 2016. 37 ‘Human Intelligence Collector Operations’, Pentagon Library Military Documents, 6 September 2006, available at www.loc.gov/rr/frd/Military_Law/pdf/huma n-intell-collector-operations.pdf, accessed on 1 November 2019. 38 In the Kautilyan state, every aspect of governmental activity is based on espionage. So, “Kautilya’s vision is not merely of a counterintelligence state but an untram­ melled espionage state”. 39 Kautilya, Arthashastra, 1.11.4. 40 Kautilya, Arthashastra, 1.12.9.; Shamasastry, Kautilya’s Arthashastra, 1951, p. 28. 41 Interview with former Secretary (Research), N. Narasimhan, 8 November 2018. 42 Musco, ‘The art of meddling: a theoretical, strategic and historical analysis of non­ official covers for clandestine Humint’, 2017, p. 389. 43 Christopher Andrew and Vasili Mitrokhin, The Mitrokhin Archive II: The KGB and the Wider World, London: Penguin, 2006, pp. 312–313. 44 Rangarajan, The Arthashastra, 1992, p. 466. 45 Ibid 46 Shamasastry, Kautilya’s Arthashastra, 1951, p. 356. 47 Kautilya, Arthashastra, 5.5.15. 48 Matthew Crosston and Frank Valli, ‘An Intelligence Civil War: “HUMINT’” vs. “TECHINT”’, Cyber, Intelligence and Security, Vol. 1, No. 1, 2017, pp. 67–82.; for modern day attempts at training animals in spying, see, Vince Houghton, Nuking the Moon: And Other Intelligence Schemes and Military Plots left on the Drawing Board, London: Penguin Books, 2019, pp. 7–15. 49 Kautilya, Arthashastra, 1.15.4. 50 Balbir Singh Sihag, ‘Kautilya on Far-sight, Foresight and Freedom’, in P. K. Gautam, Saurabh Mishra and Arvind Gupta, Indigenous Historical Knowledge: Kautilya and His Vocabulary (Volume III), New Delhi: Pentagon Press, 2016, p. 148. 51 Kautilya, Arthashastra, 1.12.15. 52 Ibid, 1.15.47–50. 53 Stephen Marrin, ‘Why strategic intelligence analysis has limited influence on American foreign policy’, Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 32, No. 6, 2017, pp. 727–728. 54 Rangarajan, The Arthashastra, 1992, p. 171. 55 Ibid. 56 Sherman Kent, Strategic Intelligence for American World Policy, Princeton University Press, 1966. 57 Ibid, p. 11.

60 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises 58 Ibid, pp. 7–8. 59 Philip H.J. Davies, ‘Ideas of Intelligence: Divergent National Concepts and Insti­ tutions’, Harvard International Review, Vol. 14, No. 3, 2002. 60 It is also this aspect that leads many observers to incorrectly declare several policy failures (mysteries) as intelligence failures (secrets) – this will be evident in the case studies section of this book. 61 Leibig, ‘Statecraft and Intelligence Analysis in the Kautilya-Arthashastra’, 2016, p. 54. 62 Anna Derinova, ‘The Role of Social Institutions in Shaping Strategic Culture’, EInternational Relations, 29 April 2013, available at www.e-ir.info/2013/04/29/ the-role-of-social-institutions-in-shaping-strategic-culture, accessed on 10 December 2019.; Alastair I. Johnston, ‘Thinking about Strategic Culture’, Inter­ national Security, Vol. 19, No. 4, 1995, pp. 32–64. 63 Rangarajan, The Arthashastra, 1992, p. 507.

64 Leibig, ‘Statecraft and Intelligence Analysis in the Kautilya-Arthashastra’, 2016, p. 57.

65 Kautilya, Arthashastra, 7.1.1–7.15.28.

66 Ibid, 1.15.36–40.

67 Following the 2003 Iraq debacle, the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence’s

report on the US Intelligence Community’s pre-war assessments noted that the it “suffered from a collective presumption that Iraq had an active and growing weapons of mass destruction (WMD) program. This “group think” dynamic led intelligence community analysts, collectors and managers to both interpret ambiguous evidence as conclusively indicative of WMD program…”. Such are the perils of “group think” that Kautilya is cautioning against. For the above quote, see Richards J. Heuer, Jr., ‘Limits of Intelligence Analysis’, Orbis, Winter 2005, p. 75. 68 Kautilya, Arthashastra, 1.15.37.

69 Ibid, 1.15.38–39.

70 For a detailed discussion on intelligence analysis see Richards J. Heuer, Jr., ‘Psy­ chology of Intelligence Analysis’, Center for the Study of Intelligence, 1999, available at www.cia.gov/library/center-for-the-study-of-intelligence/csi-publica tions/books-and-monographs/psychology-of-intelligence-analysis/Psycho fIntelNew.pdf, accessed on 27 November 2019. 71 Kautilya, Arthashastra, 1.15.43–44.

72 Kent, Strategic Intelligence for American World Policy, 1966, p. 59.

73 Rangarajan, The Arthashastra, 1992, p. 176.

74 Ibid, pp. 176–177.

75 Philip H.J. Davies, ‘Intelligence culture and intelligence failure in Britain and the

United States’, Cambridge Review of International Affairs, Vol. 17, No. 3, p. 501. 76 Ibid, p. 502. 77 Rangarajan, The Arthashastra, 1992, p. 177. 78 Kautilya, Arthashastra, 2.33.1–11. 79 Ibid. 80 Ibid, 2.33.9. 81 Ibid, 2.33.10. 82 Heuer, Jr., ‘Psychology of Intelligence Analysis’, 1999, pp. 70–71. 83 Shamasastry, Kautilya’s Arthashastra, 1951, p. 374. 84 Richard J. Aldrich, ‘Dangerous Liaisons: Post-September 11 Intelligence Alli­ ances’, Harvard International Review, Vol. 24, No. 3, 2002, p. 50. 85 Jennifer Sims, ‘Defending adaptive realism: intelligence theory comes of age’, in Peter Gill, Mark Phythian and Stephen Marrin, Intelligence Theory: Key Questions and Debates, London: Routledge, 2009, p. 158. 86 Bisht, ‘Bargaining and Negotiation Analysis: Lessons from Arthashastra’, 2016, p. 113. 87 Adam D. Svendsen, Understanding the Globalisation of Intelligence, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012.

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88 For an exposition on the nature of US-Pakistan intelligence co-operation see Dheeraj P.C., ‘U.S.-Pakistan intelligence liaison in South Asia’s age of terror: a realist analysis’, Journal of Policing, Intelligence and Counterterrorism, Vol. 12, No. 2, 2017, pp. 142–157. 89 Stephen Lefebvre, ‘The difficulties and dilemmas of international intelligence cooperation’, International Journal of Intelligence and Counterintelligence, Vol. 16, No. 4, 2003, pp. 527–542. 90 Rangarajan, The Arthashastra, 1992, p. 550.

91 Ibid, p. 549.

92 Ibid, pp. 551–556.

93 Ibid, p. 555.

94 ‘Bush threatened to bomb Pakistan, says Musharraf’, The Guardian, 22 September

2006, available at www.theguardian.com/world/2006/sep/22/pakistan.usa, accessed on 27 November 2019.; Dheeraj, ‘U.S.-Pakistan intelligence liaison in South Asia’s age of terror: a realist analysis’, 2017, pp 152–155.; Robert Johnson, ‘Pakistan’s ISI and Covert Operations in Afghanistan’, in Philip H.J. Davies and Kristian Gustafson (eds), Intelligence Elsewhere: Spies and Espionage outside the Anglosphere, Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 2013, pp. 115–140. 95 Rangarajan, The Arthashastra, 1992, p. 555.

96 Shamasastry, Kautilya’s Arthashastra, 1951, p. 448.

97 Ibid, p. 467.

98 Rangarajan, The Arthashastra, 1992, pp. 80, 473, 647.

99 Naresh Khatri and Alvin H. Ng, ‘The Role of Intuition in Strategic Decision

Making’, Human Relations, Vol. 53, No. 1, 2000, p. 62. 100 Rangarajan, The Arthashastra, 1992, p. 25. 101 Sachin More, ‘Kautilya on state fragility in contemporary security environment’, in P.K. Gautam, Saurabh Mishra and Arvind Gupta, Indigenous Historical Knowledge: Kautilya and His Vocabulary (Volume I), New Delhi: Pentagon Press, 2015, p. 16. 102 Kautilya, Arthashastra, 1.9.9. 103 Rangarajan, The Arthashastra, 1992, p. 519. 104 Sihag, ‘Kautilya on Far-sight, Foresight and Freedom’, 2016, p. 146. 105 G. Adityakiran, ‘Kautilya’s Pioneering Exposition of Comprehensive National Power in the Arthashastra’, in P.K. Gautam, Saurabh Mishra and Arvind Gupta, Indigenous Historical Knowledge: Kautilya and His Vocabulary (Volume I), New Delhi: Pentagon Press, 2015, p. 29. 106 Leo-Paul Dana, Len Korot and George Tovstiga, ‘A Cross-National comparison of Knowledge Management practices’, International Journal of Manpower, Vol. 26, No. 1, 2005, p. 10.

References Adityakiran, G., ‘Kautilya’s Pioneering Exposition of Comprehensive National Power in the Arthashastra’, in P. K. Gautam, Saurabh Mishra and Arvind Gupta, Indigenous Historical Knowledge: Kautilya and His Vocabulary (Volume I), New Delhi: Pentagon Press, 2015. Aldrich, Richard J., ‘Dangerous Liaisons: Post-September 11 Intelligence Alliances’, Harvard International Review, Vol. 24, No. 3, 2002. Andrew, Christopher and Vasili Mitrokhin, The Mitrokhin Archive II: The KGB and the Wider World, London: Penguin, 2006. Ansari, Hamid, ‘Oversight and Accountability’, Outlook, 19 January 2010, available at www.outlookindia.com/website/story/ensure-oversight-and-accountability/263861, accessed on 1 November 2019.

62 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Bar-Joseph, Uri, The Angel: The Egyptian Spy who saved Israel, London: Harper Collins, 2016. Bisht, Medha, ‘Bargaining and Negotiation Analysis: Lessons from Arthashastra’, in P.K. Gautam, Saurabh Mishra and Arvind Gupta, Indigenous Historical Knowledge: Kautilya and His Vocabulary (Volume III), New Delhi: Pentagon Press, 2016. Bisht, Medha, Kautilya’s Arthashastra: Philosophy of Strategy, London: Routledge, 2019. Crosston, Matthew and Frank Valli, ‘An Intelligence Civil War: “HUMINT’” vs. “TECHINT”’, Cyber, Intelligence and Security, Vol. 1, No. 1, 2017, pp. 67–82. Dana, Leo-Paul, Len Korot and George Tovstiga, ‘A Cross-National comparison of Knowledge Management practices’, International Journal of Manpower, Vol. 26, No. 1, 2005. Davies, Philip H.J., ‘Ideas of Intelligence: Divergent National Concepts and Institu­ tions’, Harvard International Review, Vol. 14, No. 3, 2002. Davies, Philip H.J., ‘The Original Surveillance State: Kautilya’s Arthashastra and Gov­ ernment by Espionage in Classical India’, in Philip H.J. Davies and Kristian Gustafson (eds), Intelligence Elsewhere: Spies and Espionage outside the Anglosphere, Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 2013, pp. 49–66. Derinova, Anna, ‘The Role of Social Institutions in Shaping Strategic Culture’, E-Inter­ national Relations, 29 April 2013, available at www.e-ir.info/2013/04/29/the-r ole-of-social-institutions-in-shaping-strategic-culture, accessed on 10 December 2019. Gautam, P.K., Saurabh Mishra and Arvind Gupta, ‘Kautilya on state fragility in con­ temporary security environment’, in Indigenous Historical Knowledge: Kautilya and His Vocabulary (Volume I), New Delhi: Pentagon Press, 2015. Gjesdal, K., ‘Hermeneutics’, Oxford Bibliographies, 21 May 2019, available at www. oxfordbibliographies.com/view/document/obo-9780195396577/ obo-9780195396577-0054.xml, accessed on 1 November 2019. Heuer, Jr., Richards J., ‘Limits of Intelligence Analysis’, Orbis, Winter 2005. Heuer, Jr., Richards J., ‘Psychology of Intelligence Analysis’, Center for the Study of Intelligence, 1999, available at www.cia.gov/library/center-for-the-study-of-intelli gence/csi-publications/books-and-monographs/psychology-of-intelligence-analysis/ PsychofIntelNew.pdf, accessed on 27 November 2019. Houghton, Vince, Nuking the Moon: And Other Intelligence Schemes and Military Plots left on the Drawing Board, London: Penguin Books, 2019. Johnson, Robert, ‘Pakistan’s ISI and Covert Operations in Afghanistan’, in Philip H.J. Davies and Kristian Gustafson (eds), Intelligence Elsewhere: Spies and Espionage outside the Anglosphere, Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 2013, pp. 115–140. Johnston, Alastair I., ‘Thinking about Strategic Culture’, International Security, Vol. 19, No. 4, 1995. Kasturi, Bhashyam, Intelligence Services: Analysis, Organisation and Function, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 1995. Kent, Sherman, Strategic Intelligence for American World Policy, Princeton University Press, 1966. Khatri, Naresh and Alvin H. Ng, ‘The Role of Intuition in Strategic Decision Making’, Human Relations, Vol. 53, No. 1, 2000. Lefebvre, Stephen, ‘The difficulties and dilemmas of international intelligence coop­ eration’, International Journal of Intelligence and Counterintelligence, Vol. 16, No. 4, 2003, pp. 527–542. Liebig, Michael, ‘Statecraft and Intelligence Analysis in the Kautilya-Arthashastra’, in P. K. Gautam, Saurabh Mishra and Arvind Gupta, Indigenous Historical Knowledge: Kautilya and His Vocabulary (Volume III), New Delhi: Pentagon Press, 2016.

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Liebig, Michael, ‘Kautilya’s relevance for India today’, India Quarterly, Vol. 66, No. 2, 2013. Marrin, Stephen, ‘Why strategic intelligence analysis has limited influence on American foreign policy’, Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 32, No. 6, 2017. Modelski, G., ‘Foreign Policy and International System in the Ancient Hindu World’, The American Political Science Review, Vol. 58, No. 3, 1964. Musco, Stefano, ‘The art of meddling: a theoretical, strategic and historical analysis of non­ official covers for clandestine Humint’, Defense and Security Analysis, Vol. 33, No. 4, 2017. Olivelle, Patrick, ‘Economy, Ecology, and National Defence in Kautilya’s Arthasastra’, in P. K. Gautam, Saurabh Mishra and Arvind Gupta, Indigenous Historical Knowledge: Kautilya and His Vocabulary (Volume III), New Delhi: Pentagon Press, 2016. O’Toole, George, ‘Kahn’s Law: a universal principle of intelligence?’, International Jour­ nal of Intelligence and CounterIntelligence, Vol. 4, No. 1, 1990. Paramesha Chaya, Dheeraj, ‘U.S.-Pakistan intelligence liaison in South Asia’s age of terror: a realist analysis’, Journal of Policing, Intelligence and Counterterrorism, Vol. 12, No. 2, 2017. Pentagon Library Military Documents, ‘Human Intelligence Collector Operations’, 6 September 2006, available at www.loc.gov/rr/frd/Military_Law/pdf/human-intell-col lector-operations.pdf, accessed on 1 November 2019. Raina, Asoka, Inside RAW: The Story of India’s Secret Service, Ghaziabad: Vikas Publishing House Pvt Ltd, 1981. Rangarajan, L.N. Kautilya: The Arthashastra, Gurgaon: Penguin Random House, 1992. Rohatgi, Manila, Spy System in Ancient India, Delhi: Kalpaz Publications, 2007. Saran, Shyam, How India Sees the World: Kautilya to the 21st Century, New Delhi: Jug­ gernaut, 2017. Shamasastry, R., Kautilya’s Arthashastra, Mysore: Sri Raghuveer Printing Press, 1951. Sims, Jennifer, ‘Defending adaptive realism: intelligence theory comes of age’, in Peter Gill, Mark Phythian and Stephen Marrin, Intelligence Theory: Key Questions and Debates, London: Routledge, 2009. Singh Sihag, Balbir, ‘Kautilya on Far-sight, Foresight and Freedom’, in P. K. Gautam, Saurabh Mishra and Arvind Gupta, Indigenous Historical Knowledge: Kautilya and His Vocabulary (Volume III), New Delhi: Pentagon Press, 2016. Stanford Encyclopaedia of Philosophy, ‘Imagination’, 22 January 2019, available at https://p lato.stanford.edu/entries/imagination/, accessed 1 November 2019. Svendsen, Adam D., Understanding the Globalisation of Intelligence, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012. The Guardian, ‘Bush threatened to bomb Pakistan, says Musharraf’, 22 September 2006, available at www.theguardian.com/world/2006/sep/22/pakistan.usa, accessed on 27 November 2019. Trivedi, S.D., Secret Services in Ancient India: Techniques and Operations, Bombay: Allied Publishing House, 1988.

3

From the Kautilyan State to the Colonial State Transmogrification of the Ideas and Operations of Intelligence

Introduction The previous chapter outlined the intellectual richness of the Kautilyan thought on intelligence in statecraft. This chapter examines how the idea of strategic intelligence underwent a significant change with the advent of colonialism in India. Notwithstanding the antiquity of the Arthashastra, its philosophy remained the basis for statecraft until the advent of the colonial rule in the Indian subcontinent. With the Maratha empire controlling significant portion of the Indian landmass, the knowledge of the Arthashastra had survived, and Rajadharma, which was the ideational source of Kautilyan intelligence was prevalent during the Maratha rule. It is primarily for this reason that the British victory over the Marathas has been described as a “pyrrhic victory”, and Major General Arthur Wellesley – the famed victor of the Battle of Waterloo – regarded the 1803 Battle at Assaye against the Marathas as the toughest battle of his life.1 Gradually as the colonial state spread through the subcontinent, the ideas of intelligence transformed significantly. Therefore, the question that this chapter aims to answer is: what were the dynamic changes that occurred in the way the colonial state ‘thought about’ and ‘did’ intelligence in comparison to the Kautilyan state? The original Kautilyan state that regarded intelligence as a fundamental aspect of statecraft was lost to the requirements of the colonial state – the British East India Company (EIC) at first, and the British Empire later. What emerged from the 18th century onwards was a reactive intelligence culture, where intelligence was not seen as an essential part of statecraft. Rather it became a response to threats that colonial Britain perceived. This chapter traces the ideational evolution of intelligence under the British, as it was the colonial intelligence organisations that independent India would inherit. The colonial legacy would, thereby, have serious implications on how India ‘thought’ about and ‘did’ intelligence that will be explained in the coming chapters. Through the observation of the colonial period, this chapter provides three important signposts for the observation of the Indian intelligence culture postindependence. The most important factor that this chapter brings out in dif­ ferentiating the colonial state from the Kautilyan state is the role of individuals as opposed to the role of the state in intelligence. While the state in the DOI: 10.4324/9781003296195-6

From the Kautilyan State to the Security State

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Arthashastra was the driving force behind intelligence, in a ‘reactive’ system, the wisdom of the individuals became the driver. The second difference is that the power centre of the colonial state being elsewhere, the burden of foreign intelligence was shared between London and colonial India, making the latter mostly a security concern rather than a policymaking unit. In other words, policy developments in colonial India were more internal security focused than external security. Finally, while intelligence was a respectable profession in the Kautilyan state and spies were held in high regard, the British colonial state induced a sense of hierarchical discrimination, which has come to have far reaching consequences on present day Indian intelligence organisations. Offered below is a chronological narration of the evolution of intelligence organisations during colonialism that validate this chapter’s argument that colonial intelligence culture was marked by a “reactive”, “individual-driven” and “hierarchical” character.

William Henry Sleeman and the Thagi Daftar When the John Company began expanding in India, its primary interests were commercial, especially information on South Asian textiles and manufacturers.2 The coincidence of the need for this information with that of the need to manipulate Indian commerce in its favour compelled the company to under­ take military operations against native rulers. Thus, emerged a complex web of alliances, which enabled the EIC to understand the Indian society better by making use of the existing intelligence networks in India. It is noted that the fundamental fear of the coloniser was “his lack of knowledge and ignorance of the ‘wiles of the natives’”.3 The early colonists, therefore, began to utilise the native intelligence infrastructure that composed of intelligencers – the societal intellectuals – and, the runners – intelligence collectors who spread as far as Central Asia, to allay their ignorance of the Indian society. With the conquer of each kingdom, beginning with the Battle of Plassey in 1757, the Company began using the intelligence infrastructure of the occupied kingdom to better understand its society. The occupied intelligence agents also became the front runners in the Company’s future conquest. Successive conquests, thus, brought to the Company’s understanding the diversity of the Indian subcontinent.4 In fact, evidence suggests that the EIC officials learnt the art of intelligence from the Indian rulers. In 1770 the Mughal Deputy Governor of Bengal instructed the EIC to create a formal intelligence practice. He wrote explaining how previous emperors had based decision-making on a combination of two overt and one covert source, following which, the EIC appointed the agents he nominated.5 The hallmark of the EIC’s intelligence efforts until the second decade of the nineteenth century was an intermingling of the English officers with the locals with the intention of understanding and seeking co-operation from the latter. As the British rule was firmly established in India, this relationship began to weaken, and most importantly, there was no institutionalised mechanism that

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developed in the face of an absent threat. The first attempt in setting up an intelligence organisation was made only in the 1820s with the emergence of the threat of thugs or stranglers. William Henry Sleeman, the magistrate of Nursingpur, took this as a serious issue of law and order as the data between 1822 and 1824 revealed the deaths of some 40,000–50,000 every year, as a result of thugee crimes.6 Sleeman launched a counter-thugee operation which relied on turning the apprehended thugs as informers on their fellow thugs and their networks. These informers were called “approvers” and became the human intelligence (HUMINT) pool of the Thagi and Dakoiti Department, which Sleeman established in 1829 under Lord William Bentinck.7 Within a few more years, combining the threat of punishment and the allurement of pardon, Sleeman’s efforts had completely eradicated the thugee crime. Despite the success of Sleeman’s intelligence led fight against the thugs, the failure of the British to foresee the 1857 Sepoy Mutiny highlights the three important factors that project the weaknesses in the British intelligence culture in India. Sleeman knew that the company’s success in India was mainly a result of co-operation with the natives. He was acutely aware that his own success against the thugee crime owed to the support given by the thugs. Almost a decade before the mutiny, Sleeman had warned that: “there was no longer that sympathy between the people and the agents now employed in these regions by our government. The European officers no longer showed the courtesy towards the middle and higher classes and the kindness towards the humbler…, while the native officers rather imitated and took advantage of this”.8 Therefore, once the British rule was firmly established there no longer seemed to require intelligence on the subjects. Neither could the British correctly comprehend the seriousness of the anti-British writings in Indian newspapers nor could they make sense of the mysterious circulation of chapatis across the breadth of the subcontinent, which in retrospect, is believed to have carried some secret meaning.9 Thus, intelligence under the EIC was only in response to a particular threat, and as a result lacked any centralised control. Third, this led to another problem, or highlighted another characteristic of the British intelligence in India, i.e. the role of the individual. Literature about the pre­ 1857 period synonymously uses Sleeman for intelligence, as the dedicated improvements in intelligence happened only under his guidance. Summing up the effects of these three factors, Robert Johnson wrote that: “in the face of a perceived threat, the British could enlist [Indians] and breakdown the networks of information that confronted them within India. Nevertheless, without centralised direction, the system was always in danger of failing precisely the moment it was needed. If Sleeman’s meth­ ods had been a success, it was because he had led by personal example and he had inspired others with similar zeal. Without an established and

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permanent organisation, this dependence on charismatic personnel was doomed to periodic failure”.10 Sir Francis Tuker also described Sleeman as a police officer who had done: “more than any man had ever done and more than any man was likely to do for generations after he had gone”.11 Hence, when the British Crown took over the administration of India from the EIC, there was no intelligence organisation worth its name conducting either internal or external intelligence. All that existed until then as an organisation was Sleeman’s office. Even when the Intelligence Bureau (IB) was established in 1920, its headquarters in Shimla was popular among the locals as Thagi Daftar (daftar is an office).12

Lord Curzon and India’s First Intelligence Reform With India becoming part of the British empire, ideas of intelligence in India became a mirror-image of the ideas of intelligence in London. In sharp contrast to the Kautilyan ideals of intelligence-based statecraft, the British brought with them an aversion to the use of spies for governmental activities.13 Domestic political espionage had ceased in Britain after 1848, owing to the public’s dis­ taste for spying. Foreign espionage activities also suffered, leaving Britain with no formal intelligence service until 1909.14 Thus, the Thagi department and the pre-colonial system of intelligence taken together, made India “the only pos­ session in the British Empire to have its own intelligence branch”, albeit a decen­ tralised one.15 The first real attempt at intelligence reforms in India came only at the turn of the 20th century. Nevertheless, the fear of a Russian invasion, and the ensuing Great Game in Central Asia, had, by then, compelled the British autho­ rities in India to undertake piecemeal improvements in the military intelligence infrastructure on the frontier regions. In the late 1870s, while senior British officials like Lord Northbrook, the Viceroy of India, and Lord Salisbury of the India Office worried about inade­ quate intelligence on the Russians and the need for an organisation for this purpose, two officers – General Robert Napier and Lieutenant-Colonel Freder­ ick Roberts – had set up their own Intelligence Branch at Shimla in October 1874.16 This ad hoc mechanism was crystallised into a permanent Intelligence Branch by Salisbury in 1878 for collecting intelligence and relaying it to London for analysis. The targets of intelligence were divided between London and Shimla. The former covered Russia, Turkey, Siam, China, Japan, Egypt and Africa; Shimla focused on Arabia, Baluchistan, Afghanistan, Kashmir, Nepal, Burma, Malaya, Ceylon and non-British colonies in the Indian Ocean.17 The geographical demarcation of responsibilities, however, should not be construed as a rising acceptance of the intelligence profession by Britons. There was still an aversion to secret intelligence, and these demarcations were mainly

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for relaying information collected from diplomatic and political officers in the respective territories. According to Christopher Andrew, these efforts had “little to do with secret intelligence”.18 The British military culture also was so intensely operations oriented that intelligence personnel and any officer with an affinity towards intellectualism was regarded as “too bookish”. So, whenever a chance to partake in a campaign arose, officers of the Intelligence Branch were more than willing to abandon intelligence tasks.19 As the case chapters shall reveal, this is one of the dominant cultural traits observable even in the post-colonial Indian military. Moving beyond military intelligence, in October 1887 Lord Dufferin took the first initiative in seeking intelligence on political, social and religious movements in India. But being aware of the possible adverse reactions from the provincial governments, Dufferin presented his case to Britain as a requirement for the local governments. Meanwhile, should any information of central importance arise, he hoped that it would be shared with the central government. He renamed the Thagi and Dakoiti Department as the Central Special Branch and had an Addi­ tional General Superintendent who drew a monthly salary of 800 rupees. Duf­ ferin’s concern was that the central government was receiving little information from the provinces, especially Punjab and Hyderabad, which he believed to be exposed to severe political intrigues and dangers.20 London responded positively and on 23 December 1887 the Central Special Branch was established, which independent India’s Intelligence Bureau considers its date of birth.21 Never­ theless, even this step had little effect on centralising intelligence management in colonial India. The turn of the 20th century witnessed the arrival of Lord Curzon, which led to the first visible reforms in intelligence that provided the organisational roots to independent India’s intelligence agency. In 1903, owing to the revolution in communications technology – railways, postal and telegraph – the Thagi and Dakoiti Department, then Central Special Branch, was abolished, and a Depart­ ment of Criminal Intelligence (DCI) was created.22 In theory, the DCI was the apex body that would be in charge of both internal and external intelligence. Supported by Criminal Investigation Departments (CIDs) at the provincial levels, the DCI was supposed to cover both criminal as well as political intelligence. But in practice, the body differed a lot from what was envisaged. The two aspects observed earlier, i.e. aversion to espionage in Britain and threat reactive approach, diluted the purpose for which it was created. First, British aversion to spying was exacerbated by a prejudice against the Russian police system, which made intelligence reforms a cautious activity. The Governor of the United Provinces, in fact, commented that Curzon’s reforms were transforming the Indian intelligence services into a “centralised secret Police Bureau such as exists in the Russian Empire”.23 Hence, there was already a hindrance from several quarters that led to the provinces gaining greater autonomy in investigation activities, which had a bearing on intelli­ gence. Although the DCI was allowed to employ independent sources, they were only for criminal intelligence purposes. Second, adding to the reservations

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against intelligence activities from several quarters, the advocates of intelligence reforms were faced with a dwindling threat perception that was further discouraging. Between 1904 and 1907 the Russians were defeated by the Japanese and the former had made peace with Britain and France. External intelligence, thus, lost the priority it previously held while the threat of a Russian invasion seemed fervent. On the domestic front, the British rule was firmly established, and the princely states clearly posed no military threat. In addition, the Indian National Congress (INC) that was established in 1885 was considered less a threat given its overt functioning and the fact that the early Congress nation­ alists had candidly professed loyalty to the British. Hence, even though there was a feeling that the Congress would turn out to be a threat, it did not qualify to be a target of secret intelligence. Curzon had stated that: “the Congress is tottering to its fall, and one of my greatest ambitions while in India is to assist it to a peaceful demise”.24 Consequently, the DCI continued to focus only on criminal intelligence. As the reform under Curzon came to an end, the third character of the British intelligence culture in India also became increasingly evident, i.e. the role of the individual. If Sleeman was the factor behind the creation and successful operation of the Thagi department, the DCI also began to depend largely on the capability of its chief. As this organisation would become the ancestor of post-independence Indian intelligence organisation, this factor is extremely crucial and requires elaboration. The head of the DCI, known as Director Criminal Intelligence, was given special attention under Curzon’s reforms. More than policing and investigative skills, it was regarded that the Director had to be an individual with good administrative and diplomatic skills to negotiate the turf battles between the local provincial CIDs. Therefore, it was decided that the Director would be a civilian drawn from the elite Indian Civil Service (ICS).25 This decision would have a long-term impact, as the elitist background of the intelligence managers would form a critical factor in independent India’s intelligence culture. Unlike the pre-1858 British officers like William Sleeman and others, the civil servants of the British Raj were drawn mostly for monetary benefits and career pro­ spects, and much less by the risk-taking abilities required for intelligence work.26 They rarely mingled with the Indian society that they were sent to govern. The negative ramifications of social isolation and political biases of the ICS officers on intelligence analysis was exacerbated by the divide between Britons and Indians within the intelligence organisation.27 Whilst the Sleeman era intelligence was a result of British and Indians working alongside each other, the reforms of 1903 solidified a rigid demarca­ tion of responsibilities – Indians as intelligence collectors and British as intelli­ gence collators and analysts.28 It was proposed that a Hindu and a Muslim assistant be appointed to assist the Director. However, London shot down the

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proposal stating that the Director “ought himself to be qualified in gauging native feeling and opinion”.29 Ultimately, some scholars have emphasised on this division of labour and the elitist attitude of the British officers as the reason for the Raj’s inability to sufficiently appreciate the effects of Congress’ sub­ versive movements.30 In the Raj’s intelligence, the structure made it amply clear that the role of the intelligence chief was paramount in determining the effectiveness of the organisation. Historian Richard Popplewell’s reflection on this point is apt: “the success of the operations of the DCI at this time were thus more dependent on the officer in command of the DCI than upon the bureaucratic structure at his disposal. Broadly speaking this situation was to continue [until 1947]”.31 Ergo, the triumvirate– threat reactive, spying aversive, and individual driven – factors cumulatively made Curzon’s reforms a difficult affair, while at the same time giving it an appearance of an incredible accomplishment. The latter emerges only when one compares Curzon’s reforms with earlier British efforts at reforms in India. Given solely its criminal focus, the CIDs were only handful in num­ bers – some provinces like Madras outnumbered others given the greater crime rates. In fact, the Madras City Police was the only force to have a detective wing called the Intelligence Department. Unsurprisingly, T.G. Sanjeevi, the first intelligence chief of independent India was a former member of this depart­ ment.32 Curzon had created the DCI’s headquarters in Shimla, and it worked in co-operation with the military’s Intelligence Branch. With Curzon’s exit, how­ ever, the question was not of reforms or expansion, but whether the DCI should exist at all. The solution was provided by the rise of revolutionary terrorism that required special attention. Yet again, threat reaction became the driving force.

Revolutionary Terrorism and Charles Stevenson-Moore’s Failed Attempts at Reform Even as Curzon established the DCI and tried to placate the INC and the pro­ vincial governors by keeping the former out of intelligence’s focus, his actions of 1905 – partition of Bengal – succeeded in giving the Indian nationalist movement a violent turn. Hindu youth had begun to grow aggressive and discontented with the non-violent means of the INC. Political assassinations, bombings and other terrorist means began to be adopted by these youth. Most importantly, both material and psychological training was imparted at the India House in London, under the supervision of Vinayak Damodar Savarkar.33 By 1907 violence had spread to Punjab – a strategic location for Britain both for defence against foreign invasion as well as recruitment for the Indian Army – and simultaneously, Indian revolutionary parties emerged in London, Paris and Vancouver.34 With the revo­ lutionary-terrorist threat growing real, the DCI not only survived as an organisa­ tion, but also began collecting intelligence on political crime.

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The DCI began to submit Weekly Reports under the headings: Afghanistan and transborder, Native States and Foreign possessions in India, Indian activities in America and Europe, Muhammadan Affairs, German plot against India, persons of note, foreigners, politico-religious and racial movements, religious and social excitement and propagandism, the native press and miscellaneous subjects.35 What is interesting though is, the DCI reports were merely collation of information from the press and the CIDs, bereft of interpretation and ana­ lysis. In fact, the 1907 report simply relayed the findings of the Bengal CID stating that Bengal “had no capacity for violence”.36 Also, the headings should not mislead one to believe that the INC or foreigners in India were any serious intelligence targets. On the one hand, the British administration in India at that time was averse to provoking the moderate nationalists, who were poised to be given extra administrative role within the Raj under the Morley-Minto reforms.37 On the other hand, the foreigners, mainly French and Russians, were no more seen as a threat following the Triple Entente. So, the main tar­ gets remained criminals, but with the added component of political intentions of these targets. Like modern-day transnational terrorism, revolutionary terrorism of the British Raj era also had a nexus with organised criminal groups. Hence, the DCI required the support of provincial CIDs in collecting information of this regard. Charles Stevenson-Moore, who had taken over as Director in 1907, worked to recruit provincial police officers for this purpose. However, the DCI was not captivating for the police officers from a career advancement point of view. With a great deal of effort, Stevenson-Moore managed to fill up the vacancies in critical divisions like the Financial Department, commer­ cial cases and miscellaneous inquiries. These divisions provided vital infor­ mation regarding counterfeit currency, drug-smuggling, forgery, and illegal procurement of weapons.38 By 1909 the tide of violence receded, Savarkar was apprehended, and political intelligence activities were, thus, called to be relaxed. Stevenson-Moore, however, did not see wisdom in this decision, and wished for a separate secret service in India. Being the Director, Stevenson-Moore had real insights into the threat that was brewing in the form of sedition both within India and abroad. He had observed Hindu sadhus (religious hermits) roam the length and breadth of India spreading anti-British teachings. More so, the revolutionary struggle had begun in Bengal and expanded internationally moving westwards towards Poona, Lahore, Paris, New York (Ghadr movement) and Japan.39 He had also per­ sonally perused the leaflet written by Savarkar in 1908 titled “Oh Martyrs”, which glorified the Sepoy Mutiny of 1857 and called for a revolution by 1917.40 Taking all of this into account, with the support of his predecessor Sir Harold Stuart, Stevenson-Moore appealed to the Government of India to allow the creation of a small secret service. However, such proposals were rejected immediately. Supported by Minto, Sir Harvey Adamson, the Home Member of the Viceroy’s Council, wrote to the Home Department:

72 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises “I am not convinced of spreading throughout India a body of secret police…I have seen little result from the work as regards sedition of the secret agents already employed in a limited degree by the Director, Criminal Intelligence…they merely submit sensational reports, very little of which can be believed”.41 Neither the British officers of the Indian Police nor the Indian members of the Viceroy’s Legislative Council were comfortable with the DCI. It was once again realised that the “DCI had to have a vigorous intelligence chief in order to command respect. Yet, if the Director did his job too well, he was bound to clash with the local governments”.42 Consequently, the DCI continued to operate as a collator and compiler of intelligence for London until the early 1920s. The only area where there was a modicum of on-field co-operation with the Scotland Yard was the detection and observation of the movement of foreigners in India.43 Thus, Stevenson-Moore’s calls for reforms had hit a deadlock and there was, once again, a requirement for a serious threat to draw attention to intelligence, which came via communism.

The Threat of Communism and the Birth of the Intelligence Bureau as a Counterintelligence Organisation Until the outbreak of the First World War, the main concerns of British intelligence in India were the risk of subversion within the Army after the 1857 revolt, criminal activities and some bit of terrorist activities in Bengal. The period 1914–18 witnessed the targeting of Indian revolutionaries across the world. During this time, formal structures of intelligence were also beginning to take shape in Britain with the formation of the MI5. To the credit of two British officers John Wallinger and Philip Vickery, the intelligence network to tackle the menace of foreign subversion and terrorism in India also attained a global character.44 Wallinger created the Indian Political Intelligence (IPI) within the India Office, while the entry of Vickery allowed the expansion of networks to several European, Asian and North American countries. The IPI, the DCI and the MI5 joined hands to fight the Indian revolution­ aries, as the latter was building partnerships with the Germans and, later, the Bolsheviks. According to Richard Popplewell: “the struggle of the British empire with Indian revolutionaries and their German allies is possibly the only area of the intelligence history of the First World War in which human intelligence played a decisive exclusive role”.45 Thus, by the end of the First World War, British Indian intelligence would attain a global character. However, this also should not be mistaken as the emergence of a foreign intelligence organisation. On the contrary, what emerged was a global counterintelligence network. They employed both defensive and offensive counterintelligence measures leading to frictions and

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splits among the revolutionary groups, which eventually led to the British vic­ tory.46 Yet again, intelligence under the British had taken shape in reaction to a particular threat and at the end of the war the recurrent question ‘would the intelligence system remain’ had reappeared. The response this time around came in the form of the threat of communism from Soviet Russia following the Bolsheviks revolution. With Afghanistan being the sole buffer between Russia and India, the fears of the Great Game re-emerged.47 The threat of communism and terrorism that became the major force behind the British Indian intelligence, which as the next chapter highlights, came to have a significant bearing on post-independence Indian intelligence. The DCI was rechristened as the Intelligence Bureau (IB)/Delhi Intelligence Bureau (DIB) in 1920. For the next decade, the IB focused mostly on col­ lecting intelligence on communist targets in India and passed it to the IPI in London. Being solely a collecting agency and not an analysing body, the IB did not have a clear tasking mechanism that levied a huge burden on its col­ lection capacities. Bereft of analysis, the IB kept loads of trivial information flowing to London.48 The adverse effect of this was that the Indian nationalist movement that was to pose a greater threat to British authority did not get its due attention. Communist leaders like Manabendra Nath Roy figured far more prominently in the IPI files than the episodic appearance of Gandhi, Nehru and Bose.49 Although the focus of this research is foreign intelligence, it is noteworthy that the IB learnt the right lessons from the failure to curb the nationalist struggle, which has resulted in the post-independence IB’s focus on strategic assessments on separatist movements. The result is that no separatist movement in India has hitherto been successful.50 A cursory glance at the volume of the IPI records might tempt observers to believe that an elaborate intelligence coverage was kept on nationalist leaders. However, the IB’s concerted focus on the nationalist leaders came only from the 1930s onwards, by when the INC was a political behemoth whose legitimacy among the Indian people could not be threatened by the British. In 1932 the IB gained its formal structure with Subsidiary Intelligence Bureaus being established at the provincial levels; headed by Central Intelligence Officers. Notwithstanding this belated appear­ ance of the much-needed structural reform, the challenges of centre-province co-operation continued unabated.51 Hence, the IB’s capability to tackle the nationalists’ challenge was fairly limited. On the question of foreign intelligence, the IB’s focus expanded to Russia and Central Asia. It was mainly a HUMINT collating agency, although occa­ sionally intercepts from the Government Code and Cipher School (GC&CS) were received.52 Nevertheless, like before, the IB still continued to remain until India’s independence, an information collating agency. In its capacity as a counterintelligence organisation, there were a few collection operations. The agency intercepted mails of Indian nationals in touch with German, Russian, Austrian and Italian officials. Thick dossiers began to be produced on students and Indian political activists visiting universities abroad.53 K.V. Krishna Menon,

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later India’s defence minister during the 1962 war with China, was one of the prominent targets (see Chapter 5). It was only closer to World War II that the IB began to receive a renewed attention and its network began to expand.

World War II and the First Comprehensive Intelligence Reforms prior to Independence While focus on hitherto identified targets continued, the threat of German and Japanese operations in the region placed a renewed demand on coun­ terintelligence. In 1938 the DIB John Ewart made a proposal to expand the IB’s coverage, which was hitherto focused solely on Indian nationals, to those other areas that were bound to have an implication on Imperial India’s security in the future. He brought to the notice of the Home Department how the ramifications of the Russian revolution, the Ghadr movement and the pan-Islamic movements on India’s security had hitherto been controlled through personal relations rather than systematic alliances with international agencies. He wrote:54 “The system on which we depend for forestalling externally directed sub­ versive movements has been built up on personal relationships in the Intelligence field; no compulsion or regulation could replace these rela­ tionships. For the purposes of cooperation with other countries…a full understanding of the administrative methods and legal powers for action of those countries is essential”. The DIB proposed to establish a new post of Deputy Director to liaise with Honk Kong, Singapore and other British possessions in Africa, Far East and Central Asia. This was probably the first time in colonial India that organised intelligence was given a thought; and proactivity was visible. It is arguable that this change in attitude was a consequence of the rejection of the Victorian aversion and the growth of intelligence organisations in continental Britain. Yet it is worth mentioning that this was only an experimental drive with a one-year trial period, and also worth highlighting the centrality of DIB Ewart in moving the proposal.55 The Home Department was also compelled to take the DIB’s proposals with seriousness given the changes in the international environment in the preceding years. It noted that the intelligence dominance that the IB had acquired in the pre-1938 era in coverage of communism, the Ghadr movement and pan-Isla­ mism had ensured that no hostile power existed in the Far East, the U.S.S.R. was away from the Indian borders, relationship with the Muslim world was friendly, and Britain had “practically absolute control of North-East Africa and the Red Sea Littoral”.56 However, in light of the developments of the past few years, the Home Department reckoned, hostile organisations could find it easier to develop bases for anti-India operations.

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The report noted that the actions of Berlin-Rome axis posed a potential threat to India and the control of North-East Africa and the Red Sea Lit­ torals had severely weakened. Notwithstanding the U.S.S.R.’s lack of a hostile posture, its presence in Sinkiang was reason for concern. Britain’s policies in Palestine were also cause for worry with regards to the attitudes of Muslims and Arab States. Above all, following the Japanese adventures in China, and its influential spill over as far as Burma, led the Home Depart­ ment to estimate that, in the event of a European war, “Japan would be at best an unfriendly neutral and more possibly an active ally of our ene­ mies”.57 The Home Department therefore took the DIB’s proposal seriously and commented that lacking improvements in the international situation, the DIB’s suggestions might have to expand beyond the requested one-year period. The proposals were prophetic in nature as the Axis subversion efforts had reached India’s frontiers. In the Far East, the IB procured the help of British Naval Intelligence in the Pacific. The Commander-in-Chief, China Station, commenced close co-operation with the IB in covering Japanese subversive activities in China, Hong Kong and Singapore. An initiative undertaken by the Indian government 18 months before in Shanghai to monitor Japanese inten­ tions began to pay rich dividends.58 Nonetheless, the overall British intelligence operations in the East were severely undermined by the combined efforts of the Japanese and the Indian National Army (refer next section). With regards to German subversion, the British had begun to face an entirely different problem. Owing to the rising threat of the Indian nationalists who were seeking inspiration from global developments, the British had passed the “Newspapers Act” in 1908 and the “Indian Press Law” in 1910 that allowed the colonial authorities to control the flow of news and information from abroad and within India.59 Censorships only increased during the First World War. Sub­ sequently, closer to the Second World War, the IB realised that the censorship of international news had in effect cut off news from Britain, which could be easily censored, while German propaganda still found its way into India. Reporting on the basis of intelligence collected from Baluchistan in 1939, the Secretary of State for India was informed that: “Scarcity of news is causing us some anxiety… [We] are perturbed by the prevalence of rumours. Moreover, in the absence of news from England, tendency is to accept German broadcasts as correct…As a result, general impression is of sweeping enemy successes and inaction on part of Britain and France”.60 This telegram was drafted three weeks after Britain and France had declared war on Germany, indicating that there was indeed an information vacuum in India as far as the war was concerned. Thus, this further added to the IB’s existing concerns of enemy subversion around the beginning of the Second World War.

76 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Throughout the Second World War, the IB thus emerged as Imperial India’s premier counterintelligence agency that had cast its network well beyond the frontiers of India to include British possessions in Africa and Asia, and also the Dutch East Indies. At home, from June 1939 onwards the IB tasked every other depart­ ment to pass on any information it had on foreign nationals, especially Germans, Italians and Japanese, or foreign firms considered hostile to British interests.61 Like before, communism continued to be a focal area of the IB even during the war period whilst correspondences and communications between Indian freedom fighters continued to be intercepted.62 However, for all practical purposes, the IB, despite its expanded format, remained an organisation merely collecting, and mostly collating intelligence for analysis in London. The collecting work was often con­ ducted by low-ranking Indian police personnel while the organisation’s strategic leadership always remained a British national. Therefore, despite the Second World War inducing a sense of proactivity, the predominant cultural traits, i.e. individual driven initiatives, hierarchisation of the intelligence organisation and the sharing of work responsibilities between London and Simla continued, nevertheless.

Strategic Military Intelligence in British India As noted earlier, foreign and military intelligence by the end of the 19th cen­ tury was divided between London and the Intelligence Branch in Shimla. Until the outbreak of the Second World War, the Intelligence Branch was primarily responsible for running agents in India’s periphery. The collected intelligence was shared with the DCI, and later the IB, which was in turn relayed to London. However, these were just ad hoc mechanisms. The Intelligence Branch had not developed into a foreign or strategic military intelligence organisation worth its name. The 1857 revolt had made monitoring of emo­ tions within the military a priority, and later the Intelligence Branch also got involved in counterintelligence operations assisting the IB. Even here, reflective of the Raj’s intelligence culture of threat reactiveness, the military intelligence’s organisation and operations began to take shape only against the threat of German and Japanese invasion and the fear of the Indian National Army (INA). During the late 19th century the Intelligence Branch was organised on geo­ graphical coverage. The Eastern Section (E) focused on the North-Eastern Fron­ tier, Burma, Nepal, Siam, African Coast from Zanzibar northwards, Arabia, French possessions in the East, Portuguese possessions at Macao, China on Tibet and Burma frontiers, Dutch colonies in the East, Philippine Islands, and Malaya. The Western Section focused on Russia in Asia, including Transcaspia, Turkistan, Bokhara, Siberia, Persia, China on Russian frontier, Kashgaria, Province of Bagdad, Russian Empire and Turkey in Asia. The North-West Frontier Section covered Afghanistan, Baluchistan, Kashmir, Chitral, Hunza, Dardistan and the Pamirs, China on Kashmir and Afghan frontiers, Native States in India. While the latter was solely the responsibility of the Intelligence Branch, the former two sec­ tions shared their responsibilities with the Intelligence Division of the War Office.63

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The Intelligence Branch became an organisation merely responsible for col­ lecting and archiving strategic military information in British India. Official documents of the era note that the: “duties of the Intelligence Branch are military and not political…will collect, collate and keep in convenient form, well indexed, and ready for rapid reference, the fullest information as to the topography, climatic conditions, general resources, and military strengths of all countries bordering upon India and also as to the native states in India”.64 The document also added that the Intelligence Branch’s periodical summaries: “should not contain opinions upon political subjects, but political facts may be stated, when bearing on the military situation…. whenever the Assistant Quartermaster-General, Head of the Intelligence Branch considers that the military situation in any of the countries bordering upon India is abnor­ mal…he should submit a memorandum on the subject to the Government of India. The Foreign Department will give every possible assistance to the Intelligence Branch in obtaining information on the subjects connected with its duties and the Intelligence Branch will endeavour to assist the Foreign Department by at once communicating to it unofficially any information likely to be of value”.65 In theory, while the above description suggests an elaborate intelligence structure for collecting and documenting strategic military intelligence, in practice, the Intelligence Branch failed to live up to its evolutionary expectations. In the decade following the publication of the above report, it was observed that there were problems in the Drawing Room of the Intelligence Branch that employed draughtsmen who produced maps for expeditions, histories, distribution for troops and so on. The security con­ cerns and racial emphasis had given rise to the problem of reconciling the need to employ British born soldier-draughtsmen, as opposed to native civilian ones, with the low rates of pay.66 Notwithstanding the intervention of able leaders like Lord Curzon and Kitchener, and the subsequent rise in the pay of the draughtsmen from 200–300 rupees to 300–400 rupees, the British military culture had become a serious impediment in the growth and functioning of the Intelligence Branch. Curzon, Kitchener, Raleigh and others intricately involved in the review of the Intelligence Branch produced a detailed report in 1904 that captured the cultural flaws in military intelligence. It must be noted here that, as the con­ sequent chapters shall reveal, these cultural flaws have existed in India throughout the 20th century. The report titled “Questions of Improving the Status, Pay and Prospects of the officers employed in the Intelligence Branch of the Quartermaster-General’s Department” particularly recorded the difficulty in retaining men in the department. It noted:

78 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises “There is an idea prevalent among officers…that the prospects of an officer who is appointed to the Intelligence Branch do not compare favourably with those officers who are appointed to other branches of staff, and that service in the Intelligence Branch does not lead to further employment on the general staff of the army in India. An examination of further careers of officers who have held the junior appointments in the Branch since its reorganisation in 1892, bears out this impression”.67 The other fallacies noted by the report include shortage of funds, adequate pay of the staff, and the problem of leadership in the Intelligence Branch. All these issues were a consequence of the military culture that discriminated intelligence functions from other operational roles. Also, the Intelligence Branch, more than any other intelligence organisation, depicts the racial divide within the colonial security and administrative struc­ tures. In 1909 Thompson Capper had raised concerns over the lack of sufficient training for British officers in intelligence work. He raised serious apprehensions regarding the utility of the meagre training in intelligence duties that was imparted in the Staff College. In response, Colonel W. Malleson at the Army HQ declared: “it is true that very little has been done in the matter of training officers for intelligence work…the native must be agent employed…our existing class is primarily for the instruction of our native agents. To turn it into a class for the instruction of British officers would be to defeat its purpose”.68 These classes were meant to train only Indian Non-Commissioned Officers in intelligence methods. At the grassroots level, the martial race theory that was for­ mulated in expectation of fidelity and fighting abilities from a select few commu­ nities was extended to the intelligence realm too. Punjabis from the frontier areas, for instance, were regarded as suitable for human intelligence gathering because of the environmental hardships these men faced at the frontiers.69 It was not until the outbreak of the Second World War that such discriminations were somewhat shunned, and the military intelligence organisation was given a serious thought. As Rob Johnson has noted: “The Second World War necessitated an expansion of British colonial forces, which included the recruitment of new peoples to new roles including intelligence and special operations, far beyond the traditional geographic and conceptual bounds of the martial race theories”.70 The years 1941–42 represent a watershed moment in the British Indian intel­ ligence history. The end of 1941 witnessed Stalingrad being threatened by the Germans, which gave an indication to the British that India could be attacked from the west. Early 1942 saw Thailand, Malaya and Singapore fall like dom­ inos to the Japanese, thereby making India vulnerable from the east as well.

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The Indian Army, at that time, would have been the most potent force to reckon with a two-front attack. However, the unity and integrity of the Indian Army was threatened with the rise of the INA. Therefore, in order to maintain the apolitical character of the army and expand the British intelligence cover in both the east and the west, an Intelligence Corps was created. Like the IB, even this organisation was manned mostly by British officials, whilst the Indians did some public relations work.71 The only campaign in which Indians had a significant role was the Burma campaign towards the end of the war. The fall of Burma in 1942 prompted Archibald Wavell to comment that the “reverses in Burma are striking examples of the penalty a nation has to pay for neglecting intelligence during peace”. Therefore, the Fourteenth Army of the South East Asia Command (SEAC) began developing its own intelligence set­ up. The first intelligence training school set up in Karachi was regarded inef­ fective in sufficing the training needs of the Fourteenth Army, which led to the establishment of its own intelligence school at Shillong.72 The Indian Army’s intelligence efforts in the east were strengthened by the arrival of the Special Operations Executive (SOE). It was decided in 1941 itself that if Burma fell to the Japanese, then the SOE would operate out of India and not Singapore.73 The SOE, throughout this period, was operating under GHQ India, and had under its control the British Secret Intelligence Service, as well as the American Office of Strategic Services.74 It was the SOE’s operations in India against the Japanese that brought out the complex nature of the intelligence profession. While the IB was fighting the communists, the SOE found in the communists an ally to fight the Japanese. In alliance with Stalin’s NKVD, the SOE along with its Indian agents conducted a series of intelligence and sabotage operations against the Japanese.75 Together, the SOE and the Fourteenth Army, played an important role in building an intelligence picture of the enemy in the eastern theatre. Similarly, signals intelligence (SIGINT) also had a gradual evolution in India, only to attain a matured shape during the Second World War. Stations were established in and around the North-West provinces as well as territories around Burma. Information of tactical importance was utilised in the field, while diplomatic and strategic military information was relayed back to London to be analysed by the GC&CS.76 Indians were employed in large numbers in operational roles to conduct interceptions. Yet, like other organisations, even here the top-level leadership was always manned by British officers. With the end of the war, the number of personnel working on SIGINT collection is recorded to have reduced significantly.77 Notwithstanding the HUMINT and SIGINT operations of the military intelligence, the one area where the Military Intelligence was most active was in prisoner interrogation, especially against the Japanese and the INA. Five Forward Interrogation Centres were established along the Indo-Burma borders to inter­ rogate the Prisoners of War. The centres and their units had limited success against the Japanese given the latter’s cultural and linguistic distinction.78 The low-ranking INA soldiers were interrogated immediately after being caught,

80 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises whilst the senior ranking officials were handed over to the Director of Military Intelligence. The SEAC’s military intelligence was clear from the interrogations that the leadership of Subhas Chandra Bose had played a pivotal role in keeping the INA intact. They opined that the “prisoners were thoroughly induced by Bose’s ideas, [and it is] doubtful if they can be rehabilitated as soldiers again”.79 The interrogation process was tougher on the interrogators than on the captured INA soldiers who were seen to be experts in counterinterrogation techniques (as a matter of contextual necessity, this aspect will be dealt with greater detail in the next chapter). The point, therefore, is that, alongside the SOE, the military intelligence, although belatedly, began to take countersubversion and counterpropaganda seriously. Therefore, military intelligence in British India also showed similar char­ acteristics like its civilian counterpart. Professional seriousness arose only with the emergence of a threat. An institutionalised mechanism never took off seriously until World War II, despite almost a century of British rule. From this book’s point of view, the military intelligence narrative is crucial because after the fall of native empires, it was military intelligence alone that had any role in foreign intelligence. The IB was merely a collator and communicator of intelligence to London. And above all, as the Interim Government was formed in 1946, and the IB was handed over to the Indians, military intelli­ gence remained the last of the intelligence organisations to remain under the British control.

Transmogrification of the Ideas of Intelligence from the Kautilyan State to the Colonial State In summary, this chapter has highlighted the landmark events in India’s colonial history that explain both the organisational and cultural evolution of colonial intelligence. Unlike the Kautilyan state where intelligence formed the bulk of state activity, and intelligence operatives were con­ sidered the eyes and ears of the state, the colonial state had radically dif­ ferent ideas that were born from a deep-seated aversion to a reluctant acceptance of intelligence. Adding to the trouble of ideological differences came the racial and geographical distances between the Indian people and the British colonisers. London could not sufficiently understand the impli­ cations of its reluctant approach towards intelligence, and when it did, it did so by keeping Indians in low-ranking jobs. As a result, the entire strength of the intelligence profession stood on the shoulders of the intelli­ gence managers, who more often than not came from elite backgrounds seeking prospects of career advancement. Consequently, contrary to the Kautilyan state that held spies and informers in the highest regards, the colonial state, with minor exceptions, failed to extend to the field opera­ tives the same respect that the British intelligence officers received. The colonial period also brought along the problems of decentralisation and turf battles. Throughout the colonial period, establishment of a centralised

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intelligence unit was the main task that evaded all intelligence chiefs. The decentralisation of power between the centre and the provinces, alongside the fear of turning the British Indian state into a Tsarist police state, obstructed several initiatives by informed British officials to establish a centralised intelligence setup. Hence, while the theory of statecraft determined the strength of intelli­ gence in the Kautilyan state, threat responsiveness drove the evolution of intel­ ligence in British India. Subsequently, the king in the Kautilyan state was the ultimate determiner and beneficiary of the state’s intelligence institution; while in the colonial state, it required knowledgeable and courageous individuals like Sleeman, Curzon, Northbrook, Stevenson-Moore and others to develop a threat appreciation and fight bureaucratic battles to establish ad hoc intelligence mechanisms that were bound to evaporate once the threat diminished. As the next chapter onwards shall reveal, the ramifications of these cultural traits like turf control would become visible in independent India’s foreign intelligence opera­ tions as intelligence officials regularly collided with the military and diplomatic community. Thus, the two centuries of British colonial rule in India saw an initial Indianisation of British intelligence, as the latter wanted to understand the Indian society, politics and economy to be able to expand the EIC’s rule. Once the rule was firmly established, intelligence slowly began to take a backseat. After the Crown took control following the Sepoy Mutiny, the Anglicisation process of Indian intelligence – one defined by the trilogy of threat reaction, individual centrism and hierarchisation – commenced. The threats came via crime, subversion, enemy intelligence and communism. Foreign intelligence for policymaking was never really a structured mechanism in colonial India. The implication of this colonial legacy on post-independence Indian intelligence was bound to be strong. However, with the transfer of authority to Indians, the targets of intelligence suddenly became its consumers. They brought with them their own ideas, which had an impact on how independent India would ‘think about’ and ‘do’ intelli­ gence. How much of their ideas were influenced by the Kautilyan thought and colonial experiences? While the consumers were on the opposite sides of the IB and the Military Intelligence, the organisations shared a culture from the colonial past. How did these two differing historical experiences coexist with each other? These are some of the questions that the next chapter tackles in order to arrive at an articulation of the post-independence Indian intelligence culture.

Notes 1 Manimugdha S. Sharma, ‘British vs Marathas: Clash of military cultures’, The Times of India, 29 September 2016, available at https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/blogs/pa rthian-shot/british-vs-marathas-clash-of-military-cultures, accessed on 1 November 2019; Christopher Andrew, The Secret World: A History of Intelligence, London: Penguin, 2018.

82 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises 2 Rob Wile,’ Bailouts, Bribes and Insider Trading: Here’s What The World’s Leading Business Looked Like 300 Years Ago’, Business Insider, 21 February 2012, available at www.businessinsider.com/history-of-british-east-india-company-2013-4?r=US& IR=T, accessed on 1 November 2019. 3 Christopher Bayly, Empire and Information: Intelligence Gathering and Social Commu­ nication in India, 1780–1870, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996, p. 6.

4 Robert Johnson, Spying for Empire: The Great Game in Central and South-East Asia,

1757–1947, London: Greenhill Books, 2006, pp. 48–49, 69. 5 Deep K. Datta-Ray, The Making of Indian Diplomacy: A Critique of Eurocentrism, London: Hurst Publishers, 2015, p. 183. 6 Johnson, Spying for Empire, 2006, p. 74. 7 K. Wagner, Thuggee: Banditry and the British in Early Nineteenth-Century India, London: Springer, 2007, p. 211. 8 Sir Francis Tuker, The Yellow Scarf: The Story of the Life of Thuggee Sleeman, London: J.M. Dent, 1961, p. 124. 9 Rudrangshu Mukherjee, The Year of Blood: Essays on the Revolt of 1857, London: Routledge, 2018, p. 79; Johnson, Spying for Empire, 2006, p. 77. 10 Johnson, Spying for Empire, 2006, p. 76. 11 Vijai Shukul, ‘Sleeman Sahib Ki Jai’, Indian Police Journal, Vol. 59, No. 4, 2012, p. 2. 12 Sir Percival Griffiths, To Guard My People: The History of the Indian Police, London: Ernest Benn Ltd., 1971, p. 121. 13 Christopher Andrew, Secret Service: The Making of the British Intelligence Community, London: Heinemann, 1985, pp. 1–7. 14 Richard Popplewell, Intelligence and Imperial Defence: British Intelligence and the Defence of the Indian Empire 1904–1924, London: Frank Cass Publishers, 1995, p. 33. 15 Johnson, Spying for Empire, 2006, p. 32. 16 Ibid, p. 149. 17 Ibid. 18 Andrew, Secret Service, 1985, p. 22. 19 Johnson, Spying for Empire, 2006, p. 196. 20 ‘Dufferin to India Office, London’, 1 October 1887, NAI. 21 ‘Secret Dispatch No. 31’, The Secretary of State for India to The Government of India, 23 December 1887, NAI. 22 ‘Papers of the Secretary, India Office Political and Secret Department: Secret Ser­ vice and intelligence matters’, British Library: Asian and African Studies, available at https://discovery.nationalarchives.gov.uk/details/r/ae98d26f-e3ce-4efa -b929-66340652431d, accessed on 1 November 2019. 23 Patrick French, Liberty or Death: India’s Journey to Independence and Division, London: Harper Collins, 1997, p. 12. 24 Popplewell, Intelligence and Imperial Defence, 1995, p. 44. 25 Ibid, pp. 48–49. 26 Dennis Kincaid, British Social Life in India, 1608–1937, London: Routledge, 2018, pp. 220–223. 27 Although it was the British police officers who were involved in intelligence work, they were also increasingly falling under the influence of the ICS’ elitist culture that segregated them from the locals in India. See Andrew Muldoon, ‘Politics, Intelli­ gence and Elections in Late Colonial India: Congress and the Raj in 1937’, Journal of the Canadian Historical Association, Vol. 20, No. 2, 2009, p. 170. 28 Griffiths, To Guard My People, 1971, p. 346. 29 Ibid, p. 347. 30 Bayly, Empire and Information, 1993, pp. 39–41; Muldoon, ‘Politics, Intelligence and Elections in Late Colonial India’, 2009, pp. 168–171; Prem Mahadevan, ‘The Paradoxes of Ethnographic Intelligence A Case Study of British India’, Faultlines,

From the Kautilyan State to the Security State 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40

41 42 43 44 45 46 47

48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57

83

January 2011, available at www.satp.org/satporgtp/publication/faultlines/volum e20/Article1.htm, accessed on 30 October 2019. Popplewell, Intelligence and Imperial Defence, 1995, p. 50. Howard Donovan, ‘Biographic Data: Tirupattur Gangadharam Pillai Sanjevi Pillai’, Office of South Asian Affairs: India Affairs 1944–57, RG-59, USNA, 16 May 1949. B.N. Pandey, The Indian Nationalist Movement 1885–1947: Select Documents, London: Macmillan Press, 1979, pp. 25–26. Popplewell, Intelligence and Imperial Defence, 1995, p. 59; Johnson, Spying for Empire, 2006, pp. 222–223. This is observed in the numerous weekly reports of the Director, Central Intelligence, during the late 1900s to early 1920s available at the National Archives of India. Amiya K. Samanta, ‘Growth of Intelligence Institutions in British India’, Indian Police Journal, Vol. 59, No. 4, 2012, p. 15. Amales Tripathi and Amitava Tripathi, Indian National Congress and the Struggle for Freedom: 1885–1947, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014. Popplewell, Intelligence and Imperial Defence, 1995, pp. 68–69. Ibid, p. 70. John R Pincince, ‘V.D. Savarkar and the Indian War of Independence: Contrasting Perspectives of an Emergent Composite State’, in Crispin Bates, Mutiny at the Margins: New Perspectives on the Indian Uprising of 1857: Volume VI: Perception, Narration and Reinvention: The Pedagogy and Historiography of the Indian Uprising, London: Sage, 2014. Popplewell, Intelligence and Imperial Defence, 1995, p. 71. Ibid, p. 78. ‘Proposal of the Director of Criminal Intelligence to import continental detectives to observe the movement of foreigners arriving in India’, Home Department, Branch- Police, File No. 32, NAI, 1911, p. 1. French, Liberty or Death, 1997, p. 13; Samanta, ‘Growth of Intelligence Institutions in British India’, 2012, p. 18. Popplewell, Intelligence and Imperial Defence, 1995, p. 331. Shabir Ahmad Reshi and Seema Dwivedi, ‘Growth & Development of Intelligence Apparatus during British Colonial Era in India’, International Journal of Humanities and Social Science Invention, Vol. 4, No. 4, 2015, p. 17. Alan Sielaf, ‘Soviet Influence in British India: Intelligence and Paranoia within Imperial Government in the Interwar Years’, University of Colorado Undergraduate Honors Theses, 2011, p. 4, available at https://pdfs.semanticscholar.org/e878/ 55fbdf8c7d6bc182a3b20b383b7c5629f615.pdf, accessed on 29 November 2019. The weekly reports of the Director, Intelligence Bureau, from 1920 onwards show a continuation of collation of information like its predecessor DCI. The only change, however, was a marginal increase in the coverage of Indian political leaders. Sielaf, ‘Soviet Influence in British India’, 2011, pp. 50–51. Prem Mahadevan, The Politics of Counterterrorism in India, London: I.B. Tauris, 2012, pp. 44–45. Reshi and Dwivedi, ‘Growth & Development of Intelligence Apparatus during British Colonial Era in India’, 2015, p. 18. Johnson, Spying for Empire, 2006, p. 236. French, Liberty or Death, 1997, p. 121. ‘Proposal for making provision for cooperation between the Central Intelligence Bureau and the Intelligence organizations of the British Possessions to the West and East of India’, Home Department, File No. 125/38, Repository II, NAI, 1938, p. 6. ‘The Director, Intelligence Bureau to The Secretary to the Government of India’, Home Department, File No. 125/38, Repository II, NAI, 23 December 1938, p. 34. ‘Secret Note by Mr. Puckle’, Home Department, File No. 125/38, Repository II, NAI, 5 December 1938, p. 12. Ibid, pp. 12–13.

84 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises 58 ‘Liaison between Indian Government Police and P.N.I.O’, Home Department, File No. 125/38, Repository II, NAI, 10 May 1938, p. 32. 59 Daniel Headrick, ‘A Double-Edged Sword: Communications and Imperial Control in British India’, Historical Social Research, Vol. 35, No. 1, 2010, p. 61. 60 ‘Telegram XX, No.1656, From Governor-General (Home Department) Simla to The Secretary of State for India, London’, Home Department, File No. 176/39, NAI, 26 September 1939, p. 12. 61 ‘Circular Memorandum, Intelligence Bureau’, Home Department, File No. 59/3/ 39, NAI, 5 June 1939, p. 4. 62 ‘D.I.B.‘s survey of communist activity’, Home Department, File No. 7/5/42, NAI, 1942; ‘Important Intercepts supplied by D.I.B.’, Home Department, File No. 51/4/ 44, NAI, 1944. 63 ‘Re-organisation of the Intelligence Branch of the Quartermaster-General Department’, Revenue and Agriculture Department, File No. 16, Repository-II, NAI, 1892, p. 3. 64 Ibid. 65 Ibid. 66 ‘Proposals for the Re-Organisation of the Drawing Office of the Intelligence Branch of the Quartermaster-General in India and increase of the pay of certain of its establishments – Recommended to the Secretary of State for India’, Defence, Branch-A, Repository-I, 1900, p. 5. 67 ‘Questions of Improving the Status, Pay and Prospects of the officers employed in the Intelligence Branch of the Quartermaster-General’s Department’, Simla Records, Defence, Branch A, Repository I, File Nos 412–431, 1904, pp. 4–5. 68 Andrew Syk, ‘Command in the Indian Expeditionary Force D: Mesopotamia, 1915–16’, in Kaushik Roy, Indian Army in the Two World Wars: Indian Army in the Two World Wars, Leiden: Brill, 2012, p. 88. 69 Johnson, Spying for Empire, 2006, p. 8. 70 Ibid, p. 162. 71 R.S. Chowdhary, A Short History of the Intelligence Corps, Pune: Military Intelligence Training School, 1985, pp. 10–11. 72 Ibid, pp. 16–17. 73 Richard Duckett, The Special Operations Executive (SOE) in Burma: Jungle Warfare and Intelligence Gathering in WW2, London: Bloomsbury, 2017, p. 74. 74 Richard J. Aldrich, Intelligence and the War Against Japan: Britain, America and the Politics of Secret Service, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000, pp. 144–145. 75 Ibid, pp. 157–158. 76 Desmond Ball, ‘Signals Intelligence (SIGINT) in South Asia’, Canberra Papers on Strategy and Defence, No. 117, pp. 6–8, available at http://sdsc.bellschool.anu.edu. au/sites/default/files/publications/attachments/2016-03/117_Signals_Intelligence_ %28SIGINT%29_in_South_Asia_India_Pakistan_Srilanka_%28Ceylon%29_Desm ond_Ball_P134.pdf, accessed on 27 November 2019. 77 Ibid, p. 8. 78 Chowdhary, A Short History of the Intelligence Corps, 1985, pp. 23–24. 79 French, Liberty or Death, 1997, p. 208.

References Aldrich, Richard J., Intelligence and the War Against Japan: Britain, America and the Politics of Secret Service, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Andrew, Christopher, Secret Service: The Making of the British Intelligence Community, London: Heinemann, 1985. Andrew, Christopher, The Secret World: A History of Intelligence, London: Penguin, 2018.

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Ball, Desmond, ‘Signals Intelligence (SIGINT) in South Asia’, Canberra Papers on Strategy and Defence No. 117, pp. 6–8, available at http://sdsc.bellschool.anu.edu.au/sites/default/ files/publications/attachments/2016-03/117_Signals_Intelligence_%28SIGINT%29_in_ South_Asia_India_Pakistan_Srilanka_%28Ceylon%29_Desmond_Ball_P134.pdf, accessed on 27 November 2019. Bayly, Christopher, Empire and Information: Intelligence Gathering and Social Communication in India, 1780–1870, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996. Branch A, Defence, ‘Proposals for the Re-Organisation of the Drawing Office of the Intelligence Branch of the Quartermaster-General in India and increase of the pay of certain of its establishments - Recommended to the Secretary of State for India’, Repository-I, 1900. British Library: Asian and African Studies, ‘Papers of the Secretary, India Office Political and Secret Department: Secret Service and intelligence matters’, available at https:// discovery.nationalarchives.gov.uk/details/r/ae98d26f-e3ce-4efa-b929-66340652431d, accessed on 1 November 2019. Chowdhary, R.S., A Short History of the Intelligence Corps, Pune: Military Intelligence Training School, 1985. Datta-Ray, Deep K., The Making of Indian Diplomacy: A Critique of Eurocentrism, London: Hurst Publishers, 2015. Donovan, Howard, ‘Biographic Data: Tirupattur Gangadharam Pillai Sanjevi Pillai’, Office of South Asian Affairs: India Affairs 1944–57, RG-59, USNA, 16 May 1949. Duckett, Richard, The Special Operations Executive (SOE) in Burma: Jungle Warfare and Intelligence Gathering in WW2, London: Bloomsbury, 2017. French, Patrick, Liberty or Death: India’s Journey to Independence and Division, London: Harper Collins, 1997. Griffiths, Sir Percival, To Guard My People: The History of the Indian Police, London: Ernest Benn Ltd, 1971. Headrick, Daniel, ‘A Double-Edged Sword: Communications and Imperial Control in British India’, Historical Social Research, Vol. 35, No. 1, 2010, p. 61. Home Department, ‘Dufferin to India Office, London’, 1October 1887, NAI. Home Department, ‘Proposal of the Director of Criminal Intelligence to import continental detectives to observe the movement of foreigners arriving in India’, Branch- Police, File No. 32, NAI, 1911. Home Department, ‘Proposal for making provision for cooperation between the Central Intelligence Bureau and the Intelligence organizations of the British Possessions to the West and East of India’, File No. 125/38, Repository II, NAI, 1938. Home Department, ‘Liaison between Indian Government Police and P.N.I.O’, File No. 125/38, Repository II, NAI, 10 May 1938. Home Department, ‘Secret Note by Mr. Puckle’, File No. 125/38, Repository II, NAI, 5 December 1938. Home Department, ‘The Director, Intelligence Bureau to The Secretary to the Government of India’, File No. 125/38, Repository II, NAI, 23 December 1938. Home Department, ‘Circular Memorandum, Intelligence Bureau’, File No. 59/3/39, NAI, 5 June 1939. Home Department, ‘Telegram XX, No.1656, From Governor-General (Home Department) Simla to The Secretary of State for India, London’, File No. 176/39, NAI, 26 September 1939. Home Department, ‘D.I.B.‘s survey of communist activity’, File No. 7/5/42, NAI, 1942.

86 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Home Department, ‘Important Intercepts supplied by D.I.B.’, File No. 51/4/44, NAI, 1944. Johnson, Robert, Spying for Empire: The Great Game in Central and South-East Asia, 1757–1947, London: Greenhill Books, 2006. Mahadevan, Prem, The Politics of Counterterrorism in India, London: I.B. Tauris, 2012, pp. 44–45. Mahadevan, Prem, ‘The Paradoxes of Ethnographic Intelligence A Case Study of British India’, Faultlines, January 2011, available at www.satp.org/satporgtp/publication/fa ultlines/volume20/Article1.htm, accessed on 30 October 2019. Mukherjee, Rudrangshu, The Year of Blood: Essays on the Revolt of 1857, London: Routledge, 2018, p. 79. Muldoon, Andrew, ‘Politics, Intelligence and Elections in Late Colonial India: Congress and the Raj in 1937’, Journal of the Canadian Historical Association, Vol. 20, No. 2, 2009, p. 170. Pandey, B.N., The Indian Nationalist Movement 1885–1947: Select Documents, London: Macmillan Press, 1979. Pincince, John R., ‘V.D. Savarkar and the Indian War of Independence: Contrasting Perspectives of an Emergent Composite State’, in Crispin Bates, Mutiny at the Margins: New Perspectives on the Indian Uprising of 1857: Volume VI: Perception, Narration and Reinvention: The Pedagogy and Historiography of the Indian Uprising, London: Sage, 2014. Popplewell, Richard, Intelligence and Imperial Defence: British Intelligence and the Defence of the Indian Empire 1904–1924, London: Frank Cass Publishers, 1995. Reshi, Shabir Ahmad and Seema Dwivedi, ‘Growth & Development of Intelligence Apparatus during British Colonial Era in India’, International Journal of Humanities and Social Science Invention, Vol. 4, No. 4, 2015, p. 17. Revenue and Agriculture Department, ‘Re-organisation of the Intelligence Branch of the Quartermaster-General Department’, File No. 16, Repository-II, NAI, 1892. Samanta, Amiya K., ‘Growth of Intelligence Institutions in British India’, Indian Police Journal, Vol. 59, No. 4, 2012, p. 15. Secretary of State for India to The Government of India, ‘Secret Dispatch No. 31’, 23 December 1887, NAI. Sharma, Manimugdha S., ‘British vs Marathas: Clash of military cultures’, The Times of India, 29 September 2016, available at https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/blogs/parthia n-shot/british-vs-marathas-clash-of-military-cultures, accessed on 1 November 2019. Shukul, Vijai, ‘Sleeman Sahib Ki Jai’, Indian Police Journal, Vol. 59, No. 4, 2012. Sielaf, Alan, ‘Soviet Influence in British India: Intelligence and Paranoia within Imperial Government in the Interwar Years’, University of Colorado Undergraduate Honors Theses, 2011, p. 4, available at https://pdfs.semanticscholar.org/e878/ 55fbdf8c7d6bc182a3b20b383b7c5629f615.pdf, accessed on 29 November 2019. Simla Records, Defence, ‘Questions of Improving the Status, Pay and Prospects of the officers employed in the Intelligence Branch of the Quartermaster-General’s Depart­ ment’, Branch A, Repository I, File Nos 412–431, 1904. Syk, Andrew, ‘Command in the Indian Expeditionary Force D: Mesopotamia, 1915–16’, in Kaushik Roy, Indian Army in the Two World Wars: Indian Army in the Two World Wars, Leiden: Brill, 2012. Tripathi, Amales and Amitava Tripathi, Indian National Congress and the Struggle for Free­ dom: 1885–1947, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014. Tuker, Sir Francis, The Yellow Scarf: The Story of the Life of Thuggee Sleeman, London: J. M. Dent, 1961.

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Wagner, K., Thuggee: Banditry and the British in Early Nineteenth-Century India, London: Springer, 2007. Wile, Rob, ‘Bailouts, Bribes and Insider Trading: Here’s What The World’s Leading Business Looked Like 300 Years Ago’, Business Insider, 21 February 2012, available at www.businessinsider.com/history-of-british-east-india-company-2013-4?r=US&IR= T, accessed on 1 November 2019.

4

The Birth of Post-Colonial Indian Intelligence Culture

Introduction From the proactive Kautilyan intelligence to the reactive colonial intelligence, the cultural transformation has been observed in the previous chapter. In the former, intelligence was state-driven, as it formed the basis of statecraft, while in the latter, threat perceptions and intelligence managers determined the evolution and opera­ tions of intelligence. Above all, colonial India, not being the policymaking unit for the British Empire, was mostly concerned with counterintelligence than foreign intelligence. With over two centuries of British rule, there certainly was bound to be an overwhelming influence of western ideas on Indian statecraft. Yet, the oral tradition of India had ensured the survival of Kautilya in the Indian psyche. So, the question that remains is: how was independent India’s intelligence culture influenced by the conflicting ideas and experiences of the Kautilyan thought and colonialism? This chapter observes the influences of decolonisation processes and the partition of the subcontinent on India’s intelligence organisations. It then goes on to make the first ideational analysis of the evolution of India’s intelligence by observing the ideas espoused by early political leaders, especially Home Minister Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel and Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru. Using available archival information and elite interviews, it exposes that foreign intelligence as a national security requirement had a troubled evolution. While Patel was pragmatic and enabled the sustenance of an intelligence organisation, Nehru showed a near replication of the British era aversion to matters of intelligence that morphed only with the arrival of a crisis or tactful convincing by the intelligence managers. The result was the continuation of the colonial intelligence culture, one that was threat responsive and mainly determined by the courage and adroitness of the intelligence managers. The narration in the chapter, therefore, in effect establishes the ideational difference between the Kautilyan intelligence and modern Indian intelligence. This fundamental differentiation emerges mainly from the failure of the Indian political leadership to be sufficiently driven by the “knowledge culture” espoused in the Arthashastra. Finally, the findings of this chapter will form the basis for examining the influence of India’s intelligence culture in the case studies. DOI: 10.4324/9781003296195-7

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Decolonisation and the Future of the Colonial Intelligence Apparatus Despite the piecemeal advancements made in the field of intelligence during colonial India, the Intelligence Bureau (IB) was undoubtedly one of Britain’s most prized possessions in India. By 1945, as the sharing of power with the Indians became imminent, the British authorities appeared concerned about the future of the IB. It was initially decided that the Indians could be kept unin­ formed of the intelligence activities and reports, much like several British ministers without security clearances were kept uninformed of the ULTRA interceptions during the Second World War.1 However, by mid-1945 Denys Pilditch, the Director of the IB (DIB), had been ordered to sift the IB’s records into external and internal ones, and transfer the former to London. By 1946 pressures were mounting on Whitehall to transfer power to Indians, and the future of the intelligence organisation was called into serious question. It was ultimately decided that as long as a European remained the DIB, operations would resume. In the event of an Indian being appointed as the DIB, Norman Smith, the then DIB, was instructed to make arrangements for the “security and destruction” of the records. He was also advised to maintain links with the existing operatives to ensure that they could become contacts for the British intelligence operations in India in the future.2 As decided, by 2 September 1946 – the date of the formation of the interim government – sensitive records were either transferred to London or destroyed. The fires destroying the records in Shimla apparently burned for three days.3 Under the interim government, Sardar Patel secured control of the Home Department, within which the IB had operated. He is reported to have joked to Viceroy Wavell that the “DIB had destroyed the most interesting files”.4 As recorded by Rajmohan Gandhi, Patel’s biographer, Wavell had asked, “How are you getting on at the DIB?”, to which Patel replied, “quite alright, they have destroyed all the compromising papers”. Wavell then countered, “Yes, I told them to make sure of that”, which led both of them to share a laugh.5 Commenting on the closure of sensitive files to the Indian eyes, Patel told the Le Courrier des Indes, a French weekly, on 29 May 1949 that: “When I became Home Minister, my dossier and those of all the Congress members had already been destroyed, for when I attempted to discover what they thought about me, I found absolutely nothing. They [the Brit­ ish] did not give us any information, either with regard to their past actions, or their manner of procedure, or their secret organizations; in short, they did not let us know anything”.6 With its diminished institutional memory, the IB that Patel inherited in 1946 was further depleted by partition of the subcontinent. By April 1947 Norman Smith was asked to hand over the control of the IB entirely to the Indian lea­ dership. The question of partition had been settled by then. Under these

90 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises circumstances, the senior most native officer in the IB, Anwar Ahmad, chose Pakistani citizenship.7 Earmarked to serve as the DIB of Pakistan, Ahmad is reported to have: “transfer[red] across to Pakistan every file of importance dealing with intelligence, leaving behind for his counterparts in India the office furni­ ture, empty racks and cupboards, and a few innocuous files dealing with office routine. It is therefore no exaggeration to say that on 15 August, Pakistan came into being with a well-established Intelligence Service, while India had only a semblance of one”.8 Thus, on 25 March 1947, after a great deal of searching and scrutinising, Patel wrote to Ramaswami Reddy, the then Prime Minister of Madras province, stressing the “paramount necessity” of the DIB and requested the release of Deputy Superintendent of Police, Rao Bahadur Sanjeevi Pillai, to assume the position of the DIB.9 The request was duly obliged by Reddy. Meanwhile, London received a telegram from Smith stating that powers will be handed over to Sanjeevi on the afternoon of 11 April.10 Together, Patel and Sanjeevi would have to rebuild the Indian intelligence organisation, although the feeble structure that remained had some working experience from the colonial days. Articulating the cultural evolution of this new intelligence set-up in India requires an examination of how the concerned leaders perceived intelligence. The following section, thus, explores Patel’s and Nehru’s approaches to national security and how intelligence fits into those prisms.

Sardar Patel and Jawaharlal Nehru’s Conflicting Ideas of National Security and Intelligence Nehru was India’s first Prime Minister, and Patel became India’s first Deputy Prime Minister and Home Minister. Despite being part of the freedom struggle against a common enemy, and both being ardent followers of Mahatma Gandhi, their personalities were poles apart. Their differences were so stark that one is left surprised that they even shared positions in the same cabinet, which also speaks for the mutual respect the two shared for each other at a personal level. Nehru was born in a rich family, educated in England, and believed in achieving realism through idealism.11 Life and experiences in the West had significantly alienated him from the Indian civilization.12 Patel, for his part, was a self-made man, who believed in pragmatism. The end goal for him was ide­ alism – the Ram Rajya (ideal state) that Gandhi had aspired for.13 Influenced by Fabian and Russian socialism, Nehru’s ideas for India were starkly different from Patel’s, who neither believed in socialism nor any other social ideology.14 With such distinctiveness between the pragmatic Patel and idealist Nehru, dif­ fering notions of security and intelligence were bound to exist. The question of Patel-Nehru differences and the merits of each other’s arguments is an intense research topic in itself. From this book’s point of view,

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the key aspects that are considered are the ones having an impact on intelli­ gence and national security. For Patel, a true sense of security could be achieved only when India achieved internal unity. According to historian Patrick French: “[while] Nehru talked lyrically about the community of nations; Patel was more interested in securing maximum power for Congress as the British faded from the scene”.15 The problem in implementing these differing ideas was that Patel preferred institutionalisation of power, which had a long-term benefit, while Nehru was concerned with concentration of power in his own hands. Patel, being a master administrator, believed in creation of structures and allocation of roles and responsibilities.16 Nehru, meanwhile, believed that power was not to be shared.17 In fact, within few months of independence, Patel had threatened to resign over this particular difference, which was settled with the interference of Gandhi. According to historian and Nehru’s biographer Sarvepalli Gopal: “Nehru believed that…he should intervene in the functioning of every ministry, though it should be done with tact and with the knowledge of the minister concerned…But [according to] Patel…it was for each ministry to implement the decisions of the Cabinet; and the Prime Minister’s responsibility was merely to see that there was no conflict between minis­ ters. To the extent that Nehru was seeking to do more…he was, in Patel’s view, acting undemocratically”.18 In Nehru’s approach, the need for institutions was replaced by the need to have favourable individuals. The downside of this approach was that, Nehru was also known to have a terrible record of judging people. It was Patel who had shown better knack for choosing the right people.19 According to Rajkumari Amrit Kaur, an admirer of Nehru: “[Nehru] is not a good judge of character and is therefore easily deceived. He is not averse to flattery and there is a conceit in him which makes him at once intolerant of criticism and may even warp his better judgement”.20 Therefore, for a man like Patel, who was pragmatic and action oriented, intelligence was central to his decision-making. While Nehru disliked every aspect of the British that had opposed him and India’s freedom struggle, Patel was willing to embrace the remnants of the British rule as long as they served India’s and the Congress’s objectives. This reflected in their views on the civil service, army and, most importantly, intelligence. With regards to the civil service, Nehru is reported to have termed it as “neither Indian, nor civil, nor service”, while Patel saw an all-India bureaucratic service as a “unifying force”, which was critical for nation-building.21 On matters military, Nehru is noted to

92 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises have regarded that India did not need an armed force given its policy of non­ violence, and the police were enough to maintain internal order.22 His approach to national security was defined as ‘defence through diplomacy’.23 Patel, for his part, had a nuanced and correct reading of Gandhian peace model. Non-violence was not without qualification and the military and the utility of force in statecraft was never lost on Patel.24 With regards to intelligence, Nehru was deeply dis­ turbed over being targeted by the colonial intelligence. He reflected on his experience with the British secret service in his book The Discovery of India and wrote: “during the last quarter of a century or more I have not written a single letter…without realising that it would be seen or possibly copied by some secret service censor. Nor have I spoken on the telephone without remembering that my conversation was likely to be tapped”.25 Elsewhere, he wrote that colonial India was an “ideal police state…[with] a vast army of spies and secret agents [covering] the land”..26 These observa­ tions should not be seen as mere reflections of his experiences with the colonists. Nehru made these comments contrasting the behaviour of the colonial authorities with the openness of his political organisation, the INC.27 He was, hence, nurturing a deep aversion to secret service operations while upholding transparency. Nehru’s romanticism with openness, reflecting the Victorian ideas of intelligence, is, therefore, best captured in Henry Stimson’s famous comment “Gentlemen do not read each other’s mail.28 Patel, for his part, had no time for either complaining about British secret service activities or romanticising western ideals of transparency and openness. Patel did not want to waste a moment in consolidating power for the INC after independence. As soon as the formation of the interim government in 1946, he chose the Home Department, as it was there that he could exert real influence on nation building and national security. In fact, Patel’s reputation as a master organiser during the freedom struggle owed in large part to his deft utilisation of covert intelligence. Reflecting back on the grand success of the Bardoli Satyagraha of 1928, which witnessed the emergence of Patel as one of the main leaders of Congress, historian Hindol Sengupta has written that: “it is here that Patel started to perfect an art he would embrace as his very own—the skill of nurturing, cultivating and deploying a network of informers deep into the British government system to gather critical intel­ ligence which would aid the Congress’s campaigns”.29 Therefore, contrary to Nehru’s perception of the INC being a transparent organisation, there was a leader who worked covertly to keep the Congress’ machinery functioning. Once taking office as the Interior Minister, Patel only received the license to own an organised intelligence establishment. Two days after swearing in, Patel summoned DIB Smith and ordered him to continue

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spying on the extremist elements in the INC and the communists. In his report, Smith wrote that Patel wanted: “to keep at least a close watch on movements liable to subvert Congress/ Muslim League authority as the previous official governments have kept on movements calculated to undermine British authority”.30 Philip Vickery also noted that: “Mr. Patel, who is rabidly anti-Communist, is fully aware of the impor­ tance of keeping a very close eye on Communist activities and the potentially subversive tendencies of extreme left wingers in general”.31 Although the British were relieved by the Sardar’s actions, Patel knew enough to keep the British government away from the activities of the IB. He blocked all access between the Viceroy and the DIB and became the sole recipient of intel­ ligence.32 Also, the ban on gathering intelligence on the Muslim League did not last long, as he realised the importance of knowing the inner workings of the League. Through a source of the IB, he was well informed of the happenings within the League.33 Finally, with regards to nation building, it is unsurprising that Patel employed intelligence in the best manner possible to learn the nego­ tiating positions of the princely states. For instance, in Hyderabad, a member of the Nizam’s Executive Council was a spy planted by Patel to provide informa­ tion on the developments in the Nizam’s court.34 It is, therefore, appropriate to conclude that intelligence was central to Patel’s fame as an able administrator. When India got independence, although much of the intelligence infrastructure sailed to Pakistan, the presence of Patel was sufficient to commence refurbishing the intelligence organisation. More importantly, within a short duration of taking office, he had managed to reform the intelligence system in a way that the British never could. Patel’s comments on intelligence, addressing the provincial home ministers during a lunch meeting on 23 November 1947, indicates that the centralisation of intelligence that had intensely troubled the British authorities during the colonial period had finally been achieved. The British intelligence officers had faced severe obstacles from the provincial governors and police officers whenever an attempt was made to centralise intelligence. Patel, however, had achieved this in just a year’s time. Yet, he was still aware of the need for further strengthening of the capabilities of intelligence in several aspects. The following passage from the speech denotes how deeply the minister thought about centralisation and intelligence co-ordination: “there is no longer any necessity for the reports of the Central Intelligence Bureau to be sent to the provinces…[they] may be furnished by the Central Intelligence Bureau with relevant extracts of information derived from sources in Military Intelligence as well as in States…there should be

94 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises complete coordination of all Intelligence Agencies and that efforts should be made to ensure a higher standard of reliability in the information obtained. The establishment of a central school and wireless network are already under consideration…Detailed suggestions for coordination, etc. should be considered in a conference of Central Intelligence and provincial CID officers”.35 The excerpt clearly shows that Patel was speaking from practical experience and professional involvement. He had actively led the IB from 1946 onwards; and understood the strengths and weaknesses of the intelligence organisation. This was typical of Patel’s character as an empiricist. In contrast, Nehru’s bookish knowledge did little to improve the IB after Patel departed from the scene. In his speech at the IB conference in March 1952, not only did Nehru not refer to any of the IB’s working aspects or external intelligence functions, but only made historical references that were marked by errors. For instance, referring to the British conquest of India, Nehru said: “on the [Indian] side there was total ignorance…and on the other there was a highly organised Intelligence System which gave the British infor­ mation about every single little corner”.36 There was absolutely no truth in this statement, as the British, as observed in the previous chapter, were entirely reliant on the native intelligence system to under­ stand the subcontinent and conduct their military conquests. On the international front, Nehru gave no indication of the probable targets of the IB, nor did he talk of India’s threat perception from abroad. He limited his speech to the threat of international communism but did not assume a critical tone of it as Patel generally would. On the contrary, he cautioned the officers “against a negative approach towards international communism which… [in his opinion] would be wrong and dangerous”.37 This might have been in light of the IB’s growing apprehensiveness of China and the letter Patel had written following the Chinese annexation of Tibet (see Chapter 5). Thus, in contrast to Patel, Nehru had no serious thought or involvement in the development of India’s intelligence system. This was a direct derivative of the visible aversion Nehru had shown towards intelligence. B.N. Mullik, the longest-serving DIB (1950–64) noted at least four instances – communal trouble 1948–49, railway strike 1949, domestic political situation in Nepal 1950, the implications of the Nehru-Liaquat Pact on East-Pakistan 1950 – when Nehru had incorrectly and baselessly challenged the IB’s assessments. In all these instances, the IB required the intervention of Patel and the Home Secretary to support their findings. According to Mullik, Nehru was suspicious that: “the Indian intelligence was still dependent on the British and was following old British methods taught to the Indian officers in pre-independence days and was also dishing out intelligence which the British continued to supply to it”.38

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With such inhibitions and prejudices against intelligence, it required the lea­ dership of Patel or an equivalent to keep alive the importance of the IB in policymaking. Mullik has quite candidly expressed in the aftermath of Patel’s death on 15 December 1950 that, “without [Patel’s] support in the formative period, it would have been difficult for [the IB] to survive”.39 In most of his writings on intelligence, Nehru has maintained a steadily condescending tone towards the intelligence agencies and their reportage. There are repeated usages of words like ‘misleading’, ‘exaggerated’, ‘trivial’, ‘vague’, ‘off the mark’ and so on, to either unfairly criticise the agency or to highlight that his own intellect was superior to the agency’s assessments.40 Against this backdrop, the Nehruvian era Indian intelligence returned to the colonial culture of intelligence – one that was led by intelligence managers and driven in response to a threat. The development of foreign intelligence in support of policymaking was sluggish. According to Mullik, foreign intelligence received its first attention only in 1952. However, other officials of the era argue that, even then, foreign intelligence had a reluctant evolution. A former bureaucrat serving during the Nehru era recollected that: “as long as we did not feel that China or Britain or the US or Egypt had any inimical intentions, there was no need for intelligence. So, intelligence was only growing gradually”.41 It is noteworthy that the assessment that India did not face a threat from the above said nations was not drawn from an intelligence appreciation or military analysis, but from Nehru’s weltanschauung that was derived from wishful thinking (see Chapter 5). Consequently, like the colonial period, the role of the intelligence leadership would attain paramountcy, while political interference did more damage than good. The next section chronicles the efforts of the intelligence managers – Sanjeevi and Mullik – in developing external intelligence in India, while the political leadership showed no interest in it.

Evolution of Intelligence–Political Consumer Relationship in Independent India The years 1947–50 are the most understudied years in India’s intelligence history, which, in fact, are the most crucial years to understand India’s intelligence cul­ ture. Most narratives on intelligence make only passing references to Sanjeevi as the first DIB and focus mostly on Mullik’s era. Having served as the DIB for 14 years, Mullik has been called the “Bhishma Pitamaha” of the Indian intelligence community.42 The brief and abrupt termination of Sanjeevi’s tenure as the DIB is presumed to have been uneventful. However, a careful scrutiny of the Amer­ ican, British and Indian archival evidence indicates that Sanjeevi, Patel and R.N. Banerjee, the Home Secretary, are the unsung characters who made a significant contribution to the Indian intelligence organisation. It is extremely important to

96 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises be aware of the developments of this period to understand the growth of Indian intelligence culture in the coming decades. In fact, if Nehru was proven wrong against the IB’s forecasts on the four occasions mentioned above, between 1948 and 1950, it was due solely to the leadership of Sanjeevi, not Mullik. As noted earlier, Sanjeevi was handpicked by Patel for the post of DIB. On taking office, Sanjeevi wanted the IB to be responsible for internal security, foreign intelligence, military intelligence and also all-source analysis. Never­ theless, the latter was handled by the Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC), operating under the Chiefs of Staff Committee and Sanjeevi’s proposal was vetoed by the other parties.43 After independence, however, the position of the JIC would be severely weakened, and consequently, the IB became the de facto strategic intelligence agency of India. The DIB came to be regarded as the senior most police officer in the country drawing a salary of 3,500 rupees. The initial years (1946–48) of the IB were spent mostly in internal security duties. The principal targets were the Muslim League, the princely states, the com­ munists, the communal elements, and other internal troublemakers. The Pakistani invasion of 1947–48 and the assassination of Gandhi further took away the energies of an intelligence organisation that was still born. The war indicated that India was not safe from external aggression, but Nehru was yet to pay adequate attention to the need for foreign intelligence. The partition and the war had led to an increasing flow of refugees, while at the same time, New Delhi, as the capital city, was witnessing a mushrooming of a number of foreign embassies that required monitoring. The urgency for improving intel­ ligence work was obvious to the Home Ministry. The Home Secretary, thereby, wrote: “I need not stress that our Intelligence Bureau has yet to make up much leeway in Intelligence work. Our Intelligence organisation and methods require very radical overhauling. H.M. [Home Minister] will recall specific cases in which this fact has been brought home to us. I need only mention the cases about setting up Intelligence organisation on Pakistan border, security control of Calcutta, DIB establishing special contacts by touring etc”.44 The SIB’s were directed to focus on the local press, terrorism and underground activities of various political parties, monitoring communications, communists, volunteer organisations, and foreign secret activities.45 With the support of Patel and Banerjee, Sanjeevi was on the forefront in building an organisation to accomplish these goals. The first obstacle facing Sanjeevi was the depleting manpower in the face of increasing challenges to India’s security. Deputy Director P.L. Mehta wrote to the Home Ministry that: “the Director has personally gone into the matter and considers that it is essential to fill all the vacancies urgently. Even with a third of the country going over to Pakistan the commitments of the Bureau have not by any

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means decreased and have in fact increased many fold…As a result of transfer of personnel to Pakistan all the branches are working under great strain and it is not desirable to allow this state of things to continue any longer”.46 Notwithstanding the urgency, the civil servants in the Ministry of Home Affairs (MHA) insisted on waiting for the Federal Public Service Commission to conduct examinations and select candidates suitable to work in the IB. San­ jeevi, nevertheless, devised a mechanism to deal with the issue, which the MHA approved on a temporary basis. It appears that the IB liaison officer with the MHA was directed to keep up the pressure on the ministry by highlighting the deteriorating situation in several key bureaus, while, on a temporary basis, personnel from the Pakistan based bureaus who chose Indian citizenship were to be employed in the Indian bureaus.47 For instance, an employee of the IB previously working for the Lahore bureau was employed in Amritsar. While informing on this development, the IB report to the MHA also complained about the increasing pressure on the Lucknow Central Intelligence Officer, owing to personnel shortages. The pressure of the latter pointer would allow the MHA to swallow its unease with the former. In addition to the shortage of manpower, there was also a growing pressure from the Ministry of Finance with regards to intelligence expen­ diture. By 1949–50 Patel and V.P. Menon had almost successfully com­ pleted the task of nation building. This called into question the need for the continued retention of the IB’s network across the country. Once again, this reflects the civil service’s colonial mentality of being threat responsive. The persuasion of the DIB was required in order to keep the posts func­ tioning. Sanjeevi emphasised that in the interest of the security of the country, the intelligence centres established in the states should continue to function.48 In addition, he stressed on the need to establish newer branches in Punjab, Kashmir, Rajasthan and Bhopal in the aftermath of the 1948 war. While obliging with the requests, the Ministry of Finance demanded the reduction in the number of personnel to be employed.49 Thus, looking back to the early post-independence years, the IB had to grapple with a dwindling workforce, budgetary constraints and an increasing threat per­ ception. Amid such a scenario, it was the wisdom and determination of Sanjeevi that supported the growth of the IB. On the external intelligence front, it has already been noted that until 1952 Nehru never considered the need for intelligence in foreign policymaking at all. As far as Patel was concerned, as internal security and national unity was his priority, external intelligence role for the IB was also conceived within the framework of internal security. In other words, Patel sought to continue to build and strengthen the IB as a counterintelligence organisation with a global reach. The only person in the establishment to think about building an external intelligence capability for the IB was Sanjeevi. Archival documents of 1949 reveal the complicated origins of foreign intelligence in India.

98 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises In May 1949 the MHA authorised the visit of Sanjeevi to several national capitals for the purpose of understanding the “constitutional and functional” aspects of the respective intelligence agencies.50 On the constitutional side, the MHA wanted Sanjeevi to understand the division of powers between the state and the union police forces. And on the functional side, Sanjeevi was expected to study the division of labour between intelligence and criminal investigation. To achieve this, he proceeded on a two months long visit of international cities covering Geneva, Berne, London, Cairo, New York, Washington DC and Ottawa.51 The document makes it clear that the MHA was interested only in intelligence for internal security and division of power between intelligence and law enforcement authorities. The correspondences between the Ministry of External Affairs and the Indian embassies abroad clearly express that the purpose behind Sanjeevi’s visit was: “[to examine] the working of certain Federal Police systems and also to familiarise himself with the functioning as well as the technical facilities of the local Intelligence Organizations”. [emphasis added]52 Clearly, there was no direction for the DIB to pursue a foreign intelligence project. However, Sanjeevi was interested in foreign intelligence as much as internal intelligence. Until then, the IB had only one desk dealing with foreign intelligence, which in the IB was comically known as NGO (Not to Go Out).53 Even this desk was created on the insistence of the Indian Army fol­ lowing Pakistan’s actions in Kashmir since 1947.54 In conducting the visits to international capitals, Sanjeevi saw an opportunity to develop a credible foreign intelligence capacity. In his correspondence with one of the secretaries in the MHA, Mr Iengar, on 24 November 1948 Sanjeevi wrote: “you will notice that I have shown visits to Paris, Geneva and Cairo, and these are essential in the interests of Foreign Intelligence, which I am building up and for which, in the immediate future, some officers will be deputed…Also, I should like very much to get an idea of the excellent “Foreigners Control” which the Swiss Intelligence is believed to have in force”.55 Sanjeevi was, thus, intending to create a foreign intelligence capacity for India, which was clearly beyond the interests and approval of Nehru, who was also the Foreign Minister. After this correspondence with Iengar, there is no men­ tion of foreign intelligence at all in the documents. Sanjeevi’s visit to Paris, Geneva and Cairo seem to have borne no fruits on the foreign intelligence front. By his own initiative, without the knowledge of Nehru, he secretly posted three officers in Pakistan, France and Germany, respectively.56 Else­ where, he also accepted at once that “he frequently had to take independent action without the knowledge of his government”.57 Therefore, in the absence of the approval of the Government of India, domestic intelligence and police

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work had become the only focus of his visits. In December 1948 Guy Liddell, MI5 Director of Counterespionage, noted after a meeting with Sanjeevi that the Indian government expected the IB to play a counterintelligence and counterespionage role that almost meant having “dictatorial powers”. Liddell commented that: “if Sanjeevi is to do what the Indian government want him to do, he will have to have an enormous Gestapo, which will cost the country a great deal of money and may well be corrupt and inefficient”.58 Nonetheless, his visit to the United States had an unexpected turn. In under­ standing Indian intelligence culture, Sanjeevi’s visit to the U.S. and the out­ come of it is an extremely crucial milestone. The U.S. intelligence had a considerable degree of penetration into the Indian political system. From a highly reliable source, Washington had pro­ cured Sanjeevi’s biographical details, which included his professional history, dietary habits, information about his wife; and also, the itinerary of his inter­ national visits.59 However, one critical error committed by the U.S. intelli­ gence gave Sanjeevi an opportunity to work on his foreign intelligence aspirations. In the correspondence between the U.S. embassy in India and Washington DC, the latter was informed that: “[Mr. Sanjeevi] is very close to Prime Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru, and our Ambassador in New Delhi is convinced that he can be extremely useful in aiding to change the Prime Minister’s attitude of neutrality, at least so far as communism is concerned”.60 However, nothing could have been further from the truth. Sanjeevi was Patel’s choice, and Nehru’s aversion to intelligence had never allowed any close rela­ tionship to emerge between them. Under this misplaced belief, authorities in Washington were instructed by none less than George Kennan that Sanjeevi be provided with a cordial reception by the highest officials of the U.S. government. Sanjeevi’s primary objective in the U.S. was to meet FBI Director, J. Edgar Hoover, and discuss the technicalities of domestic intelligence. However, after exchanging a few pleasantries, Hoover instructed his deputies to offer Sanjeevi a tour of the FBI, and never met with him after that. Sanjeevi described the tour as “hardly more enlightening than given to a visiting high school class”. He later reflected on his experience with the FBI with revulsion, but never informed anybody in the Indian establishment about the ill treatment meted out to him in Washington. On his return, the MHA, ignorant of the events in Washington wrote to the U.S. embassy that Sanjeevi: “has told us of the tremendous friendliness shown to him by the autho­ rities…he has come back with a store of knowledge and…real friendship for the officers of your [FBI]”.61

100 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Sanjeevi later admitted that he had not informed his superiors “for the fear of injuring relations between India and the USA”.62 Notwithstanding the dis­ astrous experience with Hoover, the overall outcome of the U.S. visit was still fruitful. Considering the instructions of Kennan and the U.S. Embassy in New Delhi to be cordial to Sanjeevi, on realising Hoover’s disinterest, the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) was directed to host him. Sanjeevi held his experi­ ences with the CIA in the highest regards.63 On his return, he drafted a report on the working of the CIA in order to provide a developmental guide for the IB. However, shortly after his return, his career as the DIB would end, which highlights the most important factor in the evolution of Indian intelligence culture, i.e. political and bureaucratic subservience. This is also a continuation of the colonial intelligence character that was largely defined by the strength and influence of the intelligence managers. During his visit to London, Sanjeevi had met the Indian High Commissioner Krishna Menon, an ardent communist sympathiser and a close confidant of Nehru. Following his interactions with the latter, Sanjeevi wrote an honest and detailed report on Menon’s attitude towards the communist problem in India. This episode might have not sat well with Nehru (see Chapter 5 for more detail). On his visit to the U.S., Sanjeevi had managed to irk yet another member of Nehru’s close circle – Mrs Vijayalakshmi Pandit, Nehru’s sister and the Indian Ambassador to the U.S. He apparently had failed to follow protocol and “call at the Embassy”, which angered Mrs. Pandit. Sanjeevi had felt that technical work did not deserve protocol to be followed.64 At the same time, differences in opinion were also emerging between Sanjeevi and Banerjee.65 Amid all these personal fissures, Sanjeevi’s report on the CIA was ignored, and the IB continued to operate as a counterintelligence and internal security organisation. In effect, the international visit culminated in his rattling of many individuals close to Nehru that led to his premature departure from the IB and the promotion of senior Deputy Director B.N. Mullik as DIB in July 1950. The entire period between 1947–50 is important to understand India’s intelligence culture because it highlighted three factors: • • •

Foreign intelligence was never considered as an essential requirement by the political leadership; Like the colonial period, the adroitness and skill of the intelligence man­ ager was necessary to keep the agency alive; and There were serious limits to what could be achieved in the intelligence profession without the support of the political leadership.

By 1950, Patel was ageing; his hands were too full to micromanage things. Banerjee also had a significant degree of influence on both Patel and Nehru, which made getting rid of Sanjeevi easy. Superseding over 30 senior officers, B.N. Mullik was selected as the new DIB.66 Mullik’s legend as the “father of Indian intelligence” is due largely to his learnings from the Sanjeevi era. With the death of Patel, which was the only deterrent against Nehru’s strongarm

The Birth of Post-Colonial Indian Intelligence Culture 101 against intelligence, Mullik realised that it would be “difficult for the [IB] to survive”. The new Home Minister, C. Rajagopalachari, was also a pragmatist and a supporter of intelligence. But, Mullik arguably was aware that Rajaji did not enjoy the same degree of influence as Patel. Under these circum­ stances, with the help of Rajaji, Mullik managed to secure direct access to the Prime Minister. Mullik’s access to Nehru has led many to regard him a “sycophant”.67 The IB has also come to be described as a “secret police organisation” rather than an intelligence agency; and Mullik as the “one-man intelligence system in India during the Nehru years”.68 However, it is arguable that if Mullik exhibited any instances of sycophancy, it was only because it was a necessary condition during the Nehru era. Political espionage would become the IB’s main tactic for organisational survival throughout the 20th century. Throughout his 14 years tenure, Mullik would go on to provide Nehru with assessments, but never pushed hard against the latter’s wishes. He had realised that his predecessor’s uprightness had done no good to the organisation, and hence, believed that India’s and his organisation’s interests could be best served by taking the poli­ tical leadership into greater confidence. Consequently, as described by MajorGeneral D.K. Palit, the Director-General of Military Operations during the 1962 war: “except in the presence of Nehru, where he [Mullik] would be deferential and compliant, he [generally] exuded an aura of self-command and authority”.69 As the case chapters will show, these became the defining features of Indian intelligence. Except on occasions under Indira Gandhi and Rajiv Gandhi, the intelligence managers have always been on the forefront in developing foreign intelligence for India’s national security. However, without political support, the limits to their accomplishments have been severe. Mullik, enjoying a higher degree of political acceptance than his predecessor, was able to make amends to the intelligence organisation with greater ease. Unlike Sanjeevi who had to secretly post intelligence officials abroad, Mullik could take Nehru into greater confidence and post intelligence officials in India’s immediate neighbourhood and the Islamic world from a national security point of view.70 To understand how Mullik’s proximity to Nehru enabled the empowerment of the IB, a closer observation of the posting of IB officers to the U.K. and other countries is useful. It has been noted earlier that Sanjeevi had posted officers in Germany, France and Pakistan without Nehru’s knowledge. Given Nehru’s repeated warnings to the IB to resist becoming tied up to the British intelligence, Mullik realised that Nehru’s anxieties could be exploited to expand the IB’s network. In September 1952 Nehru approved the establish­ ment of Security Liaison Units in London and other cities to monitor Pakistani and other communist activities threatening India. More than any other reason, the compelling force behind Nehru’s decision was to avoid relying on other

102 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises foreign intelligence agencies, especially the British.71 Considering his aversion to secret intelligence and excessive reliance on diplomacy, it would have been impossible for any intelligence chief to convince Nehru of the need to expand India’s intelligence reach without trading on his well-known concerns. It is, thus, entirely possible that it was the wisdom of Mullik, derived from his close proximity to Nehru, that enabled such expansive activities. Another area that benefitted largely from Mullik’s leadership was recruit­ ment. Unlike Sanjeevi who relied on piecemeal recruitment of personnel, Mullik innovated a recruitment style known as the Ear-Marking Scheme (EMS) that drew the best talent from the Indian Police Service (IPS). Every year, a copy of the Annual Confidential Report of the IPS officers was sent to the MHA through which the DIB identified talented officers.72 Having excel­ led in their entrance exams and completed a successful four-years career as a police officer, these officers were given permanent posting in the IB as Class-1 officers. A former officer from the era, recounted that:73 “it was well-known that the level of risk to both life and career was higher than the routine cop work. Yet, the recruits accepted the offer over a notional superiority in the eyes of their police comrades and a monetary incentive of 100 Indian Rupees” [about £5 in 1960]. While the autonomy afforded to the intelligence managers did enable development of an appreciable system of recruitment like the EMS, the lack of involvement of the political leadership denied the most essential checks against the manager’s errors. This was evident in the decision to keep Muslims away from the intelligence organisation. Immediately after independence, Sanjeevi’s major concern was to rid the IB of Europeans and Muslims. He wrote that “in an Intelligence Organisation in India now, there is no place for a European or a Muslim”.74 The first victim of this policy was Tausifullah Khan, Dy. C.I.O. of Lucknow, who was replaced by Jai Narayan Sharma. Throughout the period covered in this book, it was observed that the strength of Muslim personnel in the IB was negligible while the Research and Analysis Wing (R&AW) had none, despite Pakistan and Islamic jihadism being the primary focal areas of the agencies.75 In addition, lack of political interference in the IB’s personnel policies gave rise to other problems that in effect reflected some of the issues observed in the colonial era. This is elaborated in the next section while tracing the British legacy in Indian intelligence.

Continuation of the British Legacy in Indian Intelligence The British legacy on Indian intelligence on the organisational front is fairly straightforward. The IB, the Military Intelligence and the JIC trace their origins to the British era, although the consolidation of their powers and positions in the Indian policymaking apparatus were due in large part to political patronage

The Birth of Post-Colonial Indian Intelligence Culture 103 and organisational leadership. The IB was fortunate to have found the able leadership of Sanjeevi and the political patronage under Patel, while the JIC and the MI did not enjoy similar privilege. However, the British legacy con­ tinued to survive long after the colonists left the subcontinent. The driving factor behind this legacy was the shared anti-communist proclivities of Patel and the British, as well as the interpersonal relations developed between the intelligence managers of Britain and India. The other important facet of Indian intelligence that can be traced back to the British era is the hierarchical divide within the organisation. This section elaborates these aspects. The Patel-Nehru distinction spread even to the question of Anglo-Indian relations post-independence. The former was a firm supporter of India remaining within the commonwealth while Nehru wanted to cut all ties with the commonwealth.76 Patel emphasised that India had to maintain a strong association with the commonwealth but cautioned that India’s sovereign status must remain unaffected. As this book will reveal in greater detail, this has been the compelling factor behind India’s intelligence relationships with intelligence organisations across the world. Nevertheless, as far as the early independent days were concerned, Patel’s position as an anti-communist and commonwealth supporter ensured that connections between Indian and British intelligence officials continued unabated. Provisions were made to station a Security Liaison Officer (SLO) of the MI5 in New Delhi, which set in motion not only a close Anglo-Indian intelligence relationship but also a commonwealth intelligence culture that occupied all newly independent British colonies.77 The first two SLOs, Kenneth Bourne and Bill U’ren found a favourable character in Patel. Moreover, the SLOs as well as the top leadership at the MI5 had prior experience in India that brought them close to New Delhi. U’ren, for instance, had been a police officer in India for twenty-two years. U’ren’s successor Eric Kitchin also developed a close relationship with Sanjeevi. Kitchin reported that Sanjeevi “lost no opportunity in stressing the value which he places on maintaining our relationship on a professional and personal basis”.78 With the passing of Patel and Sanjeevi from the intelligence scene, the onus of protecting the Indo-British intelligence ties fell on Mullik. Being aware of Nehru’s position on intelligence, Mullik requested SLO Walter Bell, with whom he had developed an excellent relationship, to assume a fake identity and conduct his business undercover.79 Nehru had always been wary of British intelligence co-operation with India. In December 1948, con­ sidering Sanjeevi’s visit to London, Krishna Menon had expressed concerns over the inappropriateness of the IB functioning as an annexure to the British intelli­ gence.80 Nehru, who was informed by the MHA that the visit was to study the British intelligence system, advised Sanjeevi against tying himself with the British intelligence in any way.81 With such cautionary directives, the IB had to entirely rely on the wisdom of the managers to develop and shape international intelli­ gence liaisons. The second SLO John Allen reported to London the delicate situation in the liaison arrangement that Mullik was handling:

104 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises “Mullik has been anxious not to draw the attention of the [MEA]…to the existence of an SLO here…The fact that neither Mullik nor Pillai [Secretary-General] have sufficient confidence in the Prime Minister’s continuing approval of the liaison…is a fair indication of the delicate path we tread”.82 Allen continued that “if Nehru realised how close collaboration between the DIB and the MI5 was, he would probably forbid much of it”.83 Nehru defi­ nitely knew of the existence of the SLO but was clearly unaware of the nature of the relationship with the DIB. The problem with such behind the scenes dealings with superior intelligence services like Britain, amid the absence of political direction from Nehru, was that the IB began to gain expertise in areas that were central to Britain’s threat per­ ception rather than India’s threat perception. Being an anti-communist organisa­ tion throughout the colonial period, the IB’s association with the MI5 led to the upper ranks of the organisation being filled with experts on communism. Sir Roger Hollis, the then Deputy Director-General of MI5, was told by Mullik that the IB was reasonably strong in countersubversion, but counterespionage required improvement.84 Hollis had felt that Mullik’s views on the communist threat to India was closer to his own than to those of the Indian government. The focal point of the MI5 was the activities of the Soviet embassy in New Delhi more than anything else. Indian security threats from abroad, nevertheless, far transcended mere communism, which neither received sufficient attention from Nehru nor the British. Consequently, devoid of political direction, the IB grew under the British tutelage as a counterintelligence organisation with expertise in communism.85 The effect of this would come to bear on the 1962 Sino-Indian war. While the agency was right in perceiving a threat from China, owing to its communist-expansionist outlook, it failed in rightly gauging the military threat that Mao’s China posed (explored in detail in the following chapter). The second critical legacy left behind by the British was the racial divide within the hierarchical structure of the Indian intelligence. The British era practice of the white man leading the intelligence organisation and Indians being merely intelligence collectors continued to operate in a more-or-less similar vein. The colonial intelligence managers were members of the Indian Civil Service (ICS), who were replaced post-independence by the Indian Police Service (IPS). The civilian analysts in the IB could never attain the higher ranks in the organisation. The question of prestige that was inherent in the colonial days’ administrative and intelligence setup had percolated into the post-independence administrative mechanism as well. The British ICS officers, as observed in the previous chapter, mainly saw India as a prestigious and comfortable posting for enhanced career prospects. Post-independence, the Indian civil services continued to operate under similar motivations where “status” was valued above everything else.86 The IPS’s systemic and organisational control over the intelligence machinery has caused ruptures in intelligence co-operation and co-ordination, as well as

The Birth of Post-Colonial Indian Intelligence Culture 105 organisational effectiveness. In the face of growing security threats from across the borders immediately after independence, the primary concern should have been the establishment of steady co-operation between the military and civilian intel­ ligence services. On the contrary, in 1948 Sanjeevi requested upgrading the rank of the DIB to “Director-General of Intelligence” to give a superior edge over the Director of Military Intelligence who then held the rank of a Brigadier. Patel, fortunately, turned down this ridiculous proposal.87 In the foreign intelligence sphere, as the coming chapters will highlight, this factor has caused one of the strongest frictions between the military and the intelligence bureaucracies. The military’s longstanding lament has been that the foreign intelligence role, which was its forte prior to independence, was wrongly handed over to the IPS.88 Within the IB, the racial divide between the British officers and Indian collec­ tors of the colonial era was replaced by the IPS at the helm and Intelligence Operatives (IO) at the lower ranks. The IOs have never been able to rise to the higher ranks because of the dominance of the IPS. This is despite the fact that the selection criteria for the low-ranking officials is far tougher than the generalist IPS cadre.89 After the Himmatsinghji Committee (1950) directed strategic military intelligence as the IB’s responsibility, the civilian analysts of the agency were sent to the military intelligence training school in Pune. The training was, however, stopped soon owing to Mullik’s inability to provide the analysts with ranks equivalent of the commissioned officers, which General Thimmaiah had sought as a precondition to impart training alongside military officers. Consequently, bereft of adequate training, in the words of an IB analyst of the era, “the IOs went around collecting military intelligence as clueless jokers”.90 Thus, the struggle to maintain primacy of the IPS caused problems both within the intelligence orga­ nisation as well as between the intelligence and military, which continues una­ bated. During the course of an interview, former spymaster Vikram Sood – the only non-IPS chief of the R&AW – light-heartedly analogised the IPS dominance in intelligence to casteism in Indian society.91 In reality, however, it is a product of the racial divide established by the British. As a consequence of this, the IB under Mullik, with the support of Rajaji, had to further strengthen ties with the British intelligence for analytical assistance. In his book, Mullik cryptically referred to a “friendly nation” that provided foreign intelligence training.92 British files have revealed that the training agency was the MI5. With no clear direction from the Prime Minister, and lack of declassified information revealing the complete nature of the relationship between the IB and the MI5, it is difficult to estimate the kind of foreign intelligence training imparted to the IB. Nevertheless, the establishment of close interpersonal connections between the MI5 and IB officers in effect led to the latter being disproportionately influenced by the former. The concerns of the MI5 and the IB could not have been similar considering the differing world views and geopolitics of their respective nations. Many such details were missed by the political leadership in India, as a consequence of which, until the wars of 1962 and 1965 underscored the need for foreign intelligence, the British legacy would strongly continue in India’s intelligence culture.

106 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises

Metamorphosis of the Kautilyan Intelligence Culture to the Modern Indian Intelligence Culture “On the day of independence, history died, and politics was born”, quite aptly forms the basis for Indian intelligence culture post-independence. The decades long struggle for independence against the British had made many early Indian leaders sceptical of everything British and non-Congress. Consolidation of power for the INC had become the main objective of the nationalist leaders. Patel achieved this goal with an ironclad intelligence offensive against every form of threat he envisioned to the Congress’ rise to power. To the extent that the Congress’ authority and India’s security could be established, he was willing to engage with any remnants of the British era – intelligence, police and military. Nehru, for his part, saw all things British with a deep-seated suspicion. Neither did he have a pragmatic view of India’s security that gave birth to institutions of its own, nor did he have the gumption of Patel to use British institutions to the benefit of India’s security. Consequently, the proactive Kautilyan state, which saw security as the king’s paramount responsibility towards his citizens and intelli­ gence as a central aspect of statecraft was replaced by, after Patel’s death, a reactive Victorian style Nehruvian-Indian state where diplomacy replaced intelligence. Was Nehru a Kautilyan? This is a question that has a rich research potential and is certain to draw a divided response from academics and practitioners. The irony is that there is hardly any evidence pointing to Patel speaking about Kautilya. Yet, his actions with respect to India’s security were mostly in tandem with the Kautilyan thought. Nehru mentioned Kautilya on numerous occasions, but his actions have barely any reflection of the Kautilyan philosophy. Kautilya’s Arthashastra finds mention in Nehru’s Discovery of India. 93 He even wrote an article for the Modern Review in 1937 under the pseudonym “Chana­ kya” – Kautilya’s another name. Also, during the speech he delivered to the IB officers in 1952, he made a reference to Kautilya.94 Admirers of Nehru offer these references to argue that Nehru was Kautilyan in his thought. But empirical evidence of the Nehruvian era makes this proposition highly contestable. The question of Kautilyan basis for the Nehruvian thought has received very little scholarly attention and is beyond the purview of this book. On the question of intelligence, however, a recent study makes one reference, which is worth considering. In a study conducted by Subrata K. Mitra and Michael Liebig, an admirer of Nehru has commented on the question of Nehru’s Kautilyan behaviour in the intelligence realm that: “Nehru did not want publicity about India’s external intelligence cap­ ability, but do not underestimate what happened with respect to intelligence during the Nehru period”. [emphasis original]95 This comment is offered following Mitra and Liebig’s interview with three intelligence personnel who had stressed in regard to the 1962 war that:

The Birth of Post-Colonial Indian Intelligence Culture 107 “Indian intelligence agencies had provided sufficient information on the Chinese preparations…but Nehru and his close advisers ignored or misjudged the intelligence reports”. [emphasis added]96 Neither does the first commentator elaborate on what happened with respect to intelligence during the Nehru period, nor does the study provide sufficient attention to the role Nehru played in the 1962 debacle. However, it is possible to trace the origins of the comment to two key developments in intelligence during the Nehru era. One is the creation of the numerous covert organisations by Nehru that would go on to serve India with great effectiveness in the 1971 war. Second is the fact that some African countries, mainly Ghana, are known to have established their intelligence services under Nehru’s auspices. However, both require careful scrutiny before being accepted as objective truths speaking for Nehru’s Kautilyan philosophy in matters of intelligence. Firstly, the creation of the Directorate General of Security (DGS) in 1963 that housed the formidable secret agencies Special Service Bureau, Special Frontier Force and the Aviation Research Centre is generally credited to Nehru. However, these organisations do not owe their births to any original Nehruvian thought on the role of intelligence and covert operations in India’s national security. Contrarily, these organisations were born after the bitter experience of the 1962 war. The war had such a humiliating impact that Nehru had no other alternative but to heed to Mullik’s advice and sanction the creation of the DGS (see Chapter 6 for more detail). Hence, the creation of the DGS was typical of the British era practice of developing intelligence organi­ sations in reaction to a threat rather than the Kautilyan culture that posits intelligence and covert action as the fundamental basis for statecraft. Second, as the Ghanaian intelligence was created by the Indian IB there is a tendency to misconstrue Nehru’s actions as an enthusiasm for foreign intelli­ gence. Here again, careful observation suggests otherwise. Nehru saw India as the leader of the non-aligned world and shared a good relationship with Gha­ naian President Kwame Nkrumah. Suspicious of the British intentions in Ghana, and holding a vision for pan-Africanism, Nkrumah sought the support of Nehru to build an independent intelligence agency.97 One officer who vis­ ited India for training recalled being instructed by Nkrumah “to learn as much as possible about communism, which is what he would be dealing with, and of which Nkrumah did not want anything”.98 Ben Forjoe, another officer who trained with India, and later in Israel, became Ghana’s renowned counter­ intelligence officer.99 The main concern for Nkrumah was to maintain Ghana’s political independence amid East-West competition that was brewing during the 1950s and 1960s as well as protect Ghana from the ensuing power struggle in the African region.100 Nkrumah was deeply suspicious of the police intelligence service, which he inherited from the British.101 In this he resembled Nehru who had earlier shown similar suspicions. But unlike Nehru, he decided to act on his suspicions by creating an independent intelligence organisation for Ghana. The new

108 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises organisation was named Foreign Service Research Bureau (FSRB) and placed under the Foreign Ministry. Therefore, if the FSRB served in any foreign intelligence capacity assisting Ghanaian foreign policymaking, it was due solely to Nkrumah’s wishes more than Nehru’s guidance. Thus, the irony was that, with the help of India, Ghana’s Foreign Ministry received an intelligence ser­ vice, even while India’s own Foreign Ministry was either unaware of the IB’s actions – like the extent of the SLO’s operations in India – or caught in turf battles – like Ambassador R.K. Nehru’s refusal to accept intelligence officers in China.102 Therefore, to suggest that Nehru was influenced by Kautilyan philosophy in the field of foreign intelligence would be a gross exaggeration. Observing his behaviour in the intelligence realm, this book sides with the general critics of Nehru who avoid reading too much into his mention of Kautilya on occasions. According to them: “whatever Nehru had said affirmatively of Kautilya in the Discovery of India was not derived from an actual grasp of Kautilyan thought and therefore was inconsequential…Nehru did not understand the Arthashastra at all—or, at best, only superficially so”.103 Intellectually, Nehru was mostly affected by the Fabian and Russian socialism from his lengthy stay in England. According to Tharoor, “the ideas of Fabian socialism captured an entire generation of English-educated Indians; Nehru was no exception”.104 After his return from education in England, his intellectual engagement with Marxist literature continued. The 1930s especially are crucial, as his writings of the period show steady acceptance of the Marxist ideas, albeit not entirely.105 Reflecting on the impact of Marxist ideas on security, one scholar has commented that Marxist “scholars tend to overlook the imperative need for security before a person can possess and enjoy material wealth”.106 Nehru’s behaviour fits well with this observation, as even those scholars who reject Nehru as a Kautilyan agree that he prioritised the economy over security.107 Nehru was blinded by the theory of “defence through diplomacy”108 to see the wisdom in Patel’s approach to security, or the Kautilyan theory of state­ craft. At this juncture, to understand how a proactive and pragmatic leader would have affected foreign intelligence in independent India, it is beneficial to attempt a brief counterfactual analysis through comparison with the state of Israel, which shares several similarities with India. At around the same time, both countries emerged as a democracy after a struggle for freedom from the British. The strategic environment that the two nations inherited was also similar in some ways given that a war ensued with their neighbours and a prolonged rivalry was clearly visible. A mix of conventional wars and terrorist attacks by the enemy states was evident within a year of the creation of the two states. Nehru had termed this an “informal war”.109 Yet, observation of how the two nations went about structuring and developing their intelligence

The Birth of Post-Colonial Indian Intelligence Culture 109 services towards the accomplishment of their national security goals destroys the myth that Nehru was any Kautilyan. Much like the Indian freedom struggle that had elements of moderates, extremists and revolutionary terrorists, the Zionist struggle for the creation of Israel also had similar elements. Ben-Gurion, Israel’s first Prime Minister, like his Indian counterpart Nehru, was a moderate leader of the Zionist freedom movement. The Zionist military organisation Haganah, which had carried out a series of targeted killings, was ordered by Ben-Gurion to cease all violent activities as he was “consistently and steadily against it”.110 Owing to Ben­ Gurion’s dismissal of violent means, the Haganah was split into splinter groups called Irgun and Lehi, which firmly believed in violent means. The latter car­ ried out a series of terrorist attacks against the British that Ben-Gurion not only disapproved, but also went as far as condemning the Irgun as “an enemy of the Jewish people”.111 By the time of independence, the political differences between Ben-Gurion and other groups were, thus, stark. Yet, after indepen­ dence, on realising the threat Israel faced from terrorists and hostile states alike, Ben-Gurion sought the support of all the organisations that had fought against the British. In short, notwithstanding political differences, Ben-Gurion was willing to join hands with his dissenters for the sake of Israel’s security. Immediately after independence, Reuven Shiloah, a fellow freedom fighter and political aide, stressed to Ben-Gurion the need for intelligence as both a military and political tool during times of war and peace. Without requiring any persuasion, not only did Ben-Gurion create the Aman – military intelligence, Shin Bet – internal intelligence, and the Political Department (later christened the Mossad) – foreign intelligence; but when the need arose, he did not shy away from reaching out to right-wing underground groups who he had previously outlawed. According to Ronen Bergman, Ben-Gurion “considered diplomacy a weak substitute for a strong military and robust intelligence”.112 Therefore, reflecting the Kautilyan paradigm, Ben-Gurion neither perceived diplomacy as the frontline of national security, nor did he allow political differences to take prominence over national interests. Nehru, the idealist, accepted the “defence through diplomacy” mantra that was further solidified by his suspicion of institutions and individuals who thought otherwise. Amid such an attitude, the only two organisations that had any inkling of foreign intelligence work from the British era were deliberately kept out of the national security mechanism. One was the Indian Army, the other was the Indian National Army (INA). With regards to the slow devel­ opment of intelligence in the Indian Army, Major-General R.S. Chowdhary has written that: “as the Army in pre-partition days was considered an instrument of the imperial sustenance in India, the political leadership, during the initial years of the post-independence era, tended to look particularly at the intelli­ gence segment of the Army, with short sighted and tinted vision”.113

110 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Suspicion of the Army and the fear of a coup was predominant in the minds of Nehru and the later political leaderships.114 In fact, the military chiefs have been one of the main targets of the IB for anti-subversion.115 Although none of the Indian military chiefs have ever been proven to have nurtured political ambitions, the army has consistently been viewed through suspicious lens. The result was that the only organisation with decades of experience in intelligence gathering from Central Asia, Afghanistan and Burma were kept out of any foreign intelligence role by the political leadership. With no political initiative, the Indian Army created its own Intelligence Corps in 1955. However, because the army worked on the British culture of respecting operational skills over intellect, the officers posted in intelligence duties were of “low medical cate­ gory and superseded officers”.116 As far as the INA was concerned, it was the only non-British entity to have had an intelligence organisation of its own. Initially, the INA was tasked by the Japanese to provide strategic intelligence on the British. Schools for espionage and special training were established in Rangoon and Penang, and Subhas Bose created three specialised groups out of the trainees known as the Bahadur, Intelligence and Reinforcement Groups.117 These groups were involved in espionage, subversion, sabotage and propaganda operations behind the enemy lines. After independence, reflecting a lack of understanding of the Kautilyan philosophy of intelligence that makes pro­ vision for employment of agents on operational demands rather than poli­ tical agreements, Nehru saw no wisdom in keeping the INA cadres within the national security fold. Under the leadership of Bose, the patriotism of the INA soldiers knew no bounds. The British Military Intelligence report had concluded that the impact of Bose’s leadership on the INA cadres was so strong that their reha­ bilitation was deemed almost impossible.118 During instances, the INA enjoyed greater support from the people than the moderate INC nationalist leaders. Moreover, a large portion of the INA soldiers were Sikhs and Punjabi Muslims, which would have made an ideal intelligence cadre for Pakistan focused operations.119 Additionally, they were already trained by Bose in counterinterrogation techniques, which had severely troubled the British during the war years.120 Foregoing all these factors, in 1948, on the advice of a civil servant and two military officers, Nehru decided that the INA could not be reinstated into the Indian Army.121 They were only given some monetary benefits and unused in any capacity serving India’s national secur­ ity.122 The MI also worked hard, alongside the IB, to prevent INA men from being recruited in the police or “any positions relevant to security more generally”.123 While there is some sense in the argument that the INA cadres could not be reinstated into the Indian Army that they had deserted, the fact that they were completely removed from India’s national security apparatus is truly enigmatic to a Kautilyan observer. Claude Auchinleck, the last Commander-in-Chief of the British Indian Army wrote about the INA that:

The Birth of Post-Colonial Indian Intelligence Culture 111 “it is quite wrong to adopt the attitude that because these men had been in service in a British controlled Indian Army that therefore their loyalty must be the same as British soldiers. As I have tried to explain, they had no real loyalty towards Britain as Briton, not as we understand loyalty”.124 That a highly patriotic community of freedom fighters with a significant intel­ ligence experience was left out of the intelligence community does not reflect a state modelled on Kautilyan philosophy. For a state like Israel, which saw intelligence as the basis for security, manpower was drawn cutting across poli­ tical lines. However, in India, where politics and an idealistic political leader­ ship dominated the national security sphere, progress in the intelligence field was unsurprisingly hard to evolve. Therefore, in summarising this part that has traced the evolution of Indian intelligence culture, it is clear that the Indian intelligence of post-independence was no reflection of the Kautilyan intelligence at any rate (see Table 4.1). The Kautilyan intelligence was marked by a “knowledge culture” and a top-down approach, with the king leading the intelligence machinery. Everyone down the structure, intelligence officers and agents, were regarded honourably, given their stature as the first line of defence. The intellectual capacity of the Artha­ shastra is vast and the inferences for intelligence can be drawn only by an enthusiast of the profession. The modern-day Indian state was born out of a struggle against a colonial power, but its leadership, except Patel, was more influenced by ideas that were predominantly western than Kautilyan. Consequently, the Nehruvian-Indian Table 4.1 Cultural change in Indian intelligence from the Kautilyan state to the postcolonial Indian state Kautilyan State

Colonial State

Indian State

Nature Character

Proactive State (king)-driven

Reactive Individual driven

Intelligence-policy relationship

Structured

Composition

Market driven

Division of labour between the Raj and London White leadership, native collectors

Organisation

Centralised, but with sufficient autonomy for station chiefs Collection, analysis, dissemination, coun­ terintelligence & covert action

Reactive/Defensive Individual (intelli­ gence manager) driven Proximity of the manager to the poli­ tical leadership IPS leadership, lower ranks – police and civilian personnel Bureaucratised & rampant turf battles

Activity

De-centralised

Collection & col­ lation only. Some wartime covert action.

Horizon scanning & limited advisory role

112 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises state was different from the Kautilyan state, wherein the king no more led the intelligence machinery. “Knowledge culture” had thoroughly been replaced by the colonial “reactive culture” that gave birth to ad-hocism. In such a leader­ ship vacuum, the intelligence managers assumed primacy. This is the most important facet of India’s intelligence culture. It is this factor that contributes to organisational and systemic explanations of India’s intelligence outlook. The struggle of the intelligence managers in balancing personal, organisational and national interests, thus, becomes a crucial factor in understanding India’s intel­ ligence performances. In addition, the British legacy of being threat reactive, rather than perceptive and realistic about external threats to national security, also became an integral part of the early Indian intelligence culture. Therefore, to repeat what was mentioned earlier about the facets of Indian intelligence culture: • • •

Foreign intelligence was never considered as an essential requirement by the political leadership; Like the colonial period, the adroitness and skill of the intelligence man­ ager was necessary to keep the agency alive; There were serious limits to what could be achieved in the intelligence profession without the support of the political leadership.

In the next part of this volume, this distinct intelligence culture is examined through the observation of the three war cases. The cases are meant to facilitate an observation of how the Indian way of intelligence as observed in this part of the book affected the Indian intelligence performance in the second half of the 20th century. How far did this evolutionary culture stand against the changing security dynamics and regime changes? In a recent study on India’s diplomatic corps, Deep K. Datta-Ray has observed that references to Nehru and Nehruvian thinking have been dominant in the intellectual development of the pre-2000 diplomats.125 Did the intelligence community also share similar characteristics? These questions will be approached in the next part while trying to understand the reasons behind India’s strategic surprises.

Notes 1 Patrick French, Liberty or Death: India’s Journey to Independence and Division, London: Harper Collins, 1997, pp. 194–195. 2 Ibid, p. 236. 3 Asoka Raina, Inside RAW: The Story of India’s Secret Service, New Delhi: Vikas Publishing House Pvt Ltd., 1981, p. 7. 4 French, Liberty or Death, 1997, p. 257. 5 Rajmohan Gandhi, Patel: A Life, Ahmedabad: Navjivan Publishing House, 1991, p. 376. 6 ‘The Intelligence Service’, RG 59: General Records of the Department of State, Entry A1–1303, Office of South Asian Affairs India Affairs, USNA. 7 D.K. Palit, War in High Himalaya: The Indian Army in Crisis, 1962, London: Hurst and Company, 1991, p. 101.

The Birth of Post-Colonial Indian Intelligence Culture 113 8 L.P. Sen, Slender Was the Thread: Kashmir Confrontation 1947–48, Bombay: Orient Longmans, 1969, p. 19. 9 ‘Patel to Reddy’, in Sardar Patel Correspondence 1945–50 Volume V, Ahmedabad: Navajivan Publishing House, 1947, p. 209 (hereafter written as SPC). 10 French, Liberty or Death, 1997, p. 280. 11 Michael Edwardes, Nehru: A Political Biography, London: Penguin, 1971, p. 21.; Andrew B. Kennedy, ‘Nehru’s Foreign Policy’, in David Malone, C. Raja Mohan and Srinath Raghavan, The Oxford Handbook of Indian Foreign Policy, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015, pp. 92–93. 12 Deep K. Datta-Ray, The Making of Indian Diplomacy: A Critique of Eurocentrism, London: Hurst Publishers, 2015, p. 207. 13 Ravindra Kumar, Life and Work of Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, New Delhi: Atlantic Publishers, 1991, p. 32. 14 L.N. Sarin, Sardar Patel, New Delhi: Chand Publications, 1972, p. 10. 15 French, Liberty or Death, 1997, p. 257. 16 Kumar, Life and Work of Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, 1991, p. 44. 17 M.O. Mathai, Reminisces of the Nehru Age, New Delhi: Vikas Publishing House Pvt Ltd., 1978, p. 241. 18 Sarvepalli Gopal, Jawaharlal Nehru: A Biography, Volume II (1947–1956), London: Jonathan Cape, 1979, p. 37. 19 B.K. Ahluwalia and Shashi Ahluwalia, Sardar Patel: Rebel and Ruler, New Delhi: Akbe Group, 1981, p. 121. 20 Shashi Tharoor, Nehru: The Invention of India, New York: Arcade Publishing, 2003, p. 205. 21 Hindol Sengupta, The Man who Saved India: Sardar Patel and his Idea of India, New Delhi: Penguin Books, 2018. 22 Steven I. Wilkinson, Army and Nation: The Military and Indian Democracy since Independence, Washington DC: Harvard University Press, 2015, p. 15. 23 Shrikant Paranjpe, India’s Strategic Culture: The Making of National Security Policy, New Delhi: Routledge, 2013, p. 58. 24 Sengupta, The Man who Saved India, 2018. 25 Jawaharlal Nehru, The Discovery of India, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1946, p. 379. 26 Jawaharlal Nehru, Jawaharlal Nehru: An Autobiography, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982, p. 400. 27 Calder Walton, Empire of Secrets: British Intelligence, the Cold War and the Twilight of Empire, New York: The Overlook Press, 2014, p. 131. 28 Michael Herman, Intelligence Services in the Information Age: Theory and Practice, London: Frank Cass, 2001, p. 213.; It must, however, be noted that Nehru’s aversion to intelligence did not dissuade him from utilising the intelligence appa­ ratus for spying on his political opponents whenever he found it profitable. One such political target was Subhas Chandra Bose, his comrades and family. See Sandeep Unnithan, ‘Jawaharlal Nehru spied on Subhas Chandra Bose’s family for 20 years’, India Today, 10 April 2015, available at www.indiatoday.in/india/story/ jawaharlal-nehru-netaji-subash-chandra-bose-spy-exclusive-247945-2015-04-10, accessed on 30 November 2019.; What is interesting though is that even while he utilised the IB to spy on political characters, his senior colleagues genuinely believed that he stuck to his idealism. For instance, in November 1950, Rajago­ palachari, Minister without Portfolio, expressed his concerns to Patel over the IB’s monitoring of cabinet ministers, fearing that Nehru would disapprove of such actions. However, Rajaji was surprised to learn from Patel that Nehru was already a firm user of the IB for such purposes. Thus, Nehru’s aversion was mainly towards national security intelligence, not domestic political espionage. See ‘Patel to Rajagopalachari’, SPC (10), pp. 462–463.

114 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises 29 30 31 32 33 34 35

36 37 38 39 40

41 42

43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55

Sengupta, The Man who Saved India, 2018.

Walton, Empire of Secrets, 2014, p. 132.

French, Liberty or Death, 1997, p. 258.

Ibid.

Ibid, pp. 267, 307.

Buta Singh, ‘Paramountcy, princes and Sardar Patel (1858–1947)’, Shodhganga: a

Reservoir of Indian Theses, 19 May 2011, p. 104, available at https://sg.inflibnet.ac. in/handle/10603/2085, accessed 1 December 2019. ‘Home Minister’s Address at the Conference of the Provincial Premiers and Home Minister held at Delhi on the 22nd, 23rd Nov 1947. Lunch by Home Minister’, Ministry of Home Affairs, File No. 106/47-P.S., Sardar Patel Papers, NAI, 1947, p. 27. B.N. Mullik, My Years with Nehru: 1948–1964, Bombay: Allied Publishers, 1972, p. 70. Ibid, p. 75. Ibid, p. 57. Ibid, p. 59. For a select list of Nehru’s writings on matters concerning intelligence, see ‘To Sri Krishna Sinha’, 2 September 1948, Selected Works of Jawaharlal Nehru, 2nd series, Vol. 7, p. 14. (hereafter SWJN); ‘Evan Jenkins’s Record of Interview with Nehru’, 24 May 1947, SWJN, 2(2), p. 310.; ‘Nehru to Foreign Secretary’, 30 October 1957, SWJN, 2(39), p. 303.; ‘Nehru to C. Rajagopalachari’, 1 June 1951, SWJN, 2 (16–1), p. 636.; ‘Nehru to Patel’, 1 December 1950, SPC (10), p. 463. Interview with Former Indian Home Secretary, R.D. Pradhan, 14 November 2018. Bhishma is an important character in the epic Mahabharata who is renowned for his lifelong service and sacrifice for the survival of the Kuru kingdom. Pitamaha translates into Grandsire. For evidence of Mullik being considered Bhishma Pita­ maha of Indian intelligence, see R. Swaminathan, ‘First, the Navy. Then, the RAW, Who Next, Prime Minister’, 1999, available at www.angelfire.com/in/ja lnews/191991.txt, accessed on 1 December 2019. Guy Liddell Diaries, 5 May 1948, KV/4/470, UKNA, p. 90. ‘Proposals for the Reorganisation of the Delhi CID’, Home Department, File No. 16/50/48-Police, 1948, NAI, p. 5. ‘IB Memorandum No. 8/Police/48’, Home Department, File No. 16/50/48-Police, 3 May 1948, NAI, p. 4. ‘IB Memorandum No. 26/Ests/47(9)’, Home Department, Repository-II, File No. 70/13/47-Appth., 31 October 1947, NAI, pp. 16–17. ‘IB Memorandum No. 26/Ests/47(7)’ Home Department, Repository-II, File No. 70/13/47-Appth., 26 November 1947, NAI, pp. 16–17. ‘IB Memorandum No. 30/Est/50 (1)’, Home Department, Repository-II, File No: 40/36/50, 1950, NAI, p. 1. ‘Continued retention of certain temporary posts in the various organisations under the Director, Intelligence Bureau’, Home Department, Repository-II, File No: 40/36/50, 21 March 1950, NAI. ‘Deputation of Mr. T.G. Sanjevi I.P. Director, Intelligence Bureau’, Home Department, Repository-II, File No: 40/21/49, 1949, NAI, p. 9. Ibid, pp. 22–26. Ibid, p. 48. R.N. Kulkarni, Sin of National Conscience, Mysore: Kritagnya Publications, 2004, p. 368. R.S. Chowdhary, A Short History of the Intelligence Corps, Pune: Military Intelligence Training School, 1985, p. 30. ‘Deputation of Mr. T.G. Sanjevi I.P. Director, Intelligence Bureau’, Home Department, Repository-II, File No: 40/21/49, 1949, NAI, p. 26.

The Birth of Post-Colonial Indian Intelligence Culture 115 56 Kulkarni, Sin of National Conscience, 2004, p. 368. 57 Richard W. Klise, ‘Memorandum for the Ambassador’, RG-59, Office of the South Asian Affairs: India Affairs, 1944–57, 18 April 1950, USNA. 58 Liddell Diaries, 7 December 1948, KV/4/470, UKNA, p. 204. 59 Howard Donovan, ‘Biographic Data: Tirupattur Gangadharam Pillai Sanjevi Pillai’, RG-59, Office of the South Asian Affairs: India Affairs, 1944–57, 16 May 1949, USNA. 60 ‘J.C. Satterthwaite to James E. Webb’, RG-59, Office of the South Asian Affairs: India Affairs, 1944–57, 15 June 1949, USNA. 61 ‘Deputation of Mr. T.G. Sanjevi I.P. Director, Intelligence Bureau’, Home Department, Repository-II, File No: 40/21/49, 1949, NAI, p. 57. 62 Richard W. Klise, ‘Memorandum for the Ambassador’, RG-59, Office of the South Asian Affairs: India Affairs, 1944–57, 18 April 1950, USNA. 63 Ibid. 64 ‘Deputation of Mr. T.G. Sanjevi I.P. Director, Intelligence Bureau’, Home Department, Repository-II, File No: 40/21/49, 1949, NAI, p. 25. 65 Kulkarni, Sin of National Conscience, 2004, p. 55. 66 Mullik, My Years with Nehru, 1972, p. 59. 67 Y.D. Gundevia, Outside the Archives, Bombay: Sangam Books, 1984, p. 212. 68 K.S. Subramanian, Political Violence and the Police in India, London: Sage Publica­ tions, 2007, p. 84.; This perception about the IB during Mullik days is still strongly prevalent in India, mostly among the military. 69 Palit, War in High Himalaya, 1991, p. 163. 70 Raina, Inside RAW, 1981, p. 10. 71 ‘Nehru to B.G. Kher’, 9 September 1952, SWJN, 2(19), p. 633. 72 Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R2, 22 September 2018. 73 Interview with former Secretary (R), A.S. Dulat, 18 October 2018.; Dulat retired as the chief of R&AW. But he was an IB officer for most of his career and one of the Ear-Marked recruits of the IB. 74 ‘T.G. Sanjeevi to V. Shankar’, File No. 2/108, Sardar Patel Papers, 11 October 1947, p. 1. 75 ‘Muslims and Sikhs need not Apply’, Outlook, 13 November 2006, available at www. outlookindia.com/magazine/story/muslims-and-sikhs-need-not-apply/233087, acce ssed on 25 November 2019. 76 Nishu Sharma and Rajeev Kumar, ‘Sardar Patel’s Vision of the Contemporary World: Ideas on Geopolitical Environment’, Mahatma Gandhi Central University Journal of Social Sciences, Vol. 1, No. 1, 2019, p. 47. 77 Philip Murphy, ‘Creating a Commonwealth Intelligence Culture: The View from Central Africa 1945–1965’, Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 17, No. 3, pp. 135–141. 78 Christopher Andrew, Defence of the Realm: The Authorised History of MI5, London: Penguin, 2012, pp. 442–443. 79 Walton, Empire of Secrets, 2014, p. 134. 80 ‘Nehru to Krishna Menon’, 2 December 1948, SWJN, 2(8), p. 368. 81 Ibid, p. 369. 82 Andrew, Defence of the Realm, 2012, p. 445. 83 Ibid, p. 446. 84 Ibid, p. 445. 85 Notwithstanding the British influence, Indian officers of the time reason the IB’s anti-communist posture to India’s poverty and the economic threat that the communist ideology posed. Interview with former IB Assistant Director R.N. Kulkarni, 10 January 2020. 86 Datta-Ray, The Making of Indian Diplomacy, 2015, pp. 42, 47, 53.

116 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises 87 ‘Proposals for the Reorganisation of the Delhi CID’, Home Department, Repository-II, File No. 16/50/48-Police, 1948, NAI, p. 6. 88 Interview with Military Intelligence Officer – M3, 24 September 2018. 89 Kulkarni, Sin of National Conscience, 2004, p. 56. 90 Ibid, pp. 97–98. 91 Interview with former Secretary (Research) Vikram Sood, 22 October 2018. 92 Mullik, My Years with Nehru, 1972, p. 208. 93 Nehru, Discovery of India, 1946, p. 122. 94 Mullik, My Years with Nehru, 1972, p. 71. 95 Subrata K. Mitra and Michael Liebig, Kautilya’s Arthashastra: An Intellectual Portrait: The Classical Roots of Modern Politics in India, New Delhi: Rupa, 2017, p. 224. 96 Ibid, p. 223. 97 K. Sankaran Nair, Inside IB and RAW: The Rolling Stone that Gathered Moss, New Delhi: Manas Publications, 2016, p. 124.; Emmanuel Kwesi Aning, Emma Bir­ ikorang and Ernest Ansah Lartey, ‘The Processes and Mechanisms of Developing a Democratic Intelligence Culture in Ghana’, in Philip H.J. Davies and Krisitan C. Gustafson, Intelligence Elsewhere: Spies and Espionage Outside the Anglosphere, Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 2013.; Johnny Kwadjo, ‘Chan­ ging the Intelligence Dynamics in Africa: The Ghana Experience’, in Sandy Africa and Johnny Kwadjo, Changing Intelligence Dynamics in Africa, 2009, p. 99. 98 Willard Scott Thompson, ‘Ghana’s Foreign Policy, 1957–1966: Diplomacy Ideology and the New State’, in Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2015, pp. 100–101. 99 ‘Rawlings pays respects to former National Security Chief’, Ghana Web, 9 August 2013, available at www.ghanaweb.com/GhanaHomePage/NewsArchive/Ra wlings-pays-respects-to-former-National-Security-Chief-281958#, accessed on 1 November 2019. 100 ‘Ghana Episode Tape No. X’, Kao Papers, NMML, 1958, pp. 13–15. 101 Ironically, Nkrumah’s request was relayed by Mullik to London, as Ghana was a Commonwealth nation. See ‘Ghana Episode Tape No. VIII’, Kao Papers, NMML, 1957, p. 2.; R.N. Kao, future head of the R&AW and the officer selected to assist the Ghanaians, recalled that despite being unhappy with the arrangement, the British pretended to like the arrangement and made slight suggestions. See ‘Ghana Episode Tape No. X’, Kao Papers, NMML, 1958, p. 2. 102 ‘Nehru to the Foreign Secretary’, 30 October 1957, SWJN, 2(39), p. 303. 103 Mitra and Liebig, Kautilya’s Arthashastra, 2017, p. 226. 104 Tharoor, Nehru, 2003, p. 240. 105 S.R. Goyal, “Nehru: His Enchantment and Disillusionment with Marxism”, in Sobhag Mathur, Spectrum of Nehru’s Thought, New Delhi: Mittal Publications, 1994, pp. 53–56. 106 S.D. Trivedi, Secret Services in Ancient India: Techniques and Operations, Bombay: Allied Publishing House, 1988, pp. 10–11. 107 Mitra and Liebig, Kautilya’s Arthashastra, 2017, p. 226. 108 For a long time, it was conventional wisdom that Nehru had an aversion towards the use of force. Scholarship in the last decade has begun to challenge this percep­ tion. For a comprehensive work in this regard, see Srinath Raghavan, War and Peace in Modern India: A Strategic History of the Nehru Years, New Delhi: Permanent Black, 2010, p. 16.; However, this has not led to an overall transformation in the way Nehru’s national security policies have been accepted by scholars. See Kanti Bajpai, ‘Indian Strategic Culture and the Problem of Pakistan’, in Swarna Rajagopalan, Security and South Asia: Ideas, Institutions and Initiatives, London: Routledge, 2014, pp. 61–62.; Andrew Kennedy, The International Ambitions of Mao and Nehru: National Efficacy Beliefs and the Making of Foreign Policy, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011, p. 144.; Available evidence still supports the notion that Nehru failed to

The Birth of Post-Colonial Indian Intelligence Culture 117 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122

123 124 125

pay adequate attention to national security and the next chapter amply establishes this point. Praveen Swami, India, Pakistan and the Secret Jihad, London: Routledge, 2006, p. 4. Ronen Bergman, Rise and Kill First: The Secret History of Israel’s Targeted Assassi­ nations, London: John Murray, 2018, p. 19. Ibid, p. 26. Ibid, p. 34. Chowdhary, A Short History of the Intelligence Corps, 1985, p. 29. Wilkinson, Army and Nation, 2015, pp. 19–26. Rudra Chaudhuri, ‘India’, in Michael Goodman, Robert Dover and Claudia Hillebrand, Routledge Companion to Intelligence Studies, London: Routledge, 2014, p. 186. Chowdhary, A Short History of the Intelligence Corps, 1985, p. 31. Eric A. Vas, Subhas Chandra Bose: The Man and His Times, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 2005, p. 152.; Anuradha Kumar, Puffin Lives: Subhas Chandra Bose, New Delhi: Penguin, 2010, p. 129. French, Liberty or Death, 1997, p. 208. Gajendra Singh, ‘The Congress and the INA Trials, 1945–50: A Contest over the Perception of ‘Nationalist’ Politics’, in Kaushik Roy, Indian Army in the Two World Wars: Indian Army in the Two World Wars, Leiden: Brill, 2012, p. 499. French, Liberty or Death, 1997, pp. 205–211. J.N. Chaudhuri, ‘Nehru and the Indian Armed Forces’, Cambridge Trust, 5 May 1973, available at www.cambridgetrust.org/assets/documents/Lecture_5.pdf, accessed on 12 December 2019. Subimal Dutt, Foreign Secretary under Nehru, has written that Nehru took sympathy on some ex-INA officers and inducted them into the foreign service. This only reiterates the argument that Nehru’s focus was primarily on diplomacy, not on intelligence. See Subimal Dutt, With Nehru In the Foreign Office, Calcutta: Minerva Associates Pvt Ltd., 1977, p. 38. Wilkinson, Army and Nation, 2015, p. 60.

Singh, ‘The Congress and the INA Trials, 1945–50’, 2012, p. 518.

Datta-Ray, The Making of Indian Diplomacy, 2015, p. 46.

References Ahluwalia, B.K. and Shashi Ahluwalia, Sardar Patel: Rebel and Ruler, New Delhi: Akbe Group, 1981. Andrew, Christopher, Defence of the Realm: The Authorised History of MI5, London: Penguin, 2012. Bajpai, Kanti, ‘Indian Strategic Culture and the Problem of Pakistan’, in Swarna Rajagopalan, Security and South Asia: Ideas, Institutions and Initiatives, London: Routledge, 2014, pp. 61–62. Bergman, Ronen, Rise and Kill First: The Secret History of Israel’s Targeted Assassinations, London: John Murray, 2018. Chaudhuri, J.N., ‘Nehru and the Indian Armed Forces’, Cambridge Trust, 5 May 1973, available at www.cambridgetrust.org/assets/documents/Lecture_5.pdf, accessed on 12 December 2019. Chaudhuri, Rudra, ‘India’, in Michael Goodman, Robert Dover and Claudia Hillebrand, Routledge Companion to Intelligence Studies, London: Routledge, 2014. Chowdhary, R.S., A Short History of the Intelligence Corps, Pune: Military Intelligence Training School, 1985.

118 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Datta-Ray, Deep K., The Making of Indian Diplomacy: A Critique of Eurocentrism, London: Hurst Publishers, 2015. Donovan, Howard, ‘Biographic Data: Tirupattur Gangadharam Pillai Sanjevi Pillai’, RG-59, Office of the South Asian Affairs: India Affairs, 1944–57, 16 May 1949, USNA. Dutt, Subimal, With Nehru In the Foreign Office, Calcutta: Minerva Associates Pvt Ltd, 1977. Edwardes, Michael, Nehru: A Political Biography, London: Penguin, 1971. French, Patrick, Liberty or Death: India’s Journey to Independence and Division, London: Harper Collins, 1997. Gandhi, Rajmohan, Patel: A Life, Ahmedabad: Navjivan Publishing House, 1991. Ghana Web, ‘Rawlings pays respects to former National Security Chief’, 9 August 2013, available at www.ghanaweb.com/GhanaHomePage/NewsArchive/Rawling s-pays-respects-to-former-National-Security-Chief-281958#, accessed on 1 Novem­ ber 2019. Gopal, Sarvepalli, ‘Evan Jenkins’s Record of Interview with Nehru’, 24 May1947, Selected Works of Jawaharlal Nehru, 2(2), p. 310. Gopal, Sarvepalli, ‘To Sri Krishna Sinha’, 2 September1948, Selected Works of Jawaharlal Nehru, 2(7), p.14. Gopal, Sarvepalli, ‘Nehru to Krishna Menon’, 2 December1948, Selected Works of Jawaharlal Nehru, 2(8), p. 368. Gopal, Sarvepalli, ‘Nehru to C. Rajagopalachari’, 1 June1951, Selected Works of Jawaharlal Nehru, 2(16–1), p. 636. Gopal, Sarvepalli, ‘Nehru to B.G. Kher’, 9 September1952, Selected Works of Jawaharlal Nehru, 2(19), p.633. Gopal, Sarvepalli, ‘Nehru to the Foreign Secretary’, 30 October1957, Selected Works of Jawaharlal Nehru, 2(39), p. 303. Gopal, Sarvepalli, Jawaharlal Nehru: A Biography, Volume II (1947–1956), London: Jonathan Cape, 1979. Goyal, S.R., ‘Nehru: His Enchantment and Disillusionment with Marxism’, in Sobhag Mathur, Spectrum of Nehru’s Thought, New Delhi: Mittal Publications, 1994. Gundevia, Y.D., Outside the Archives, Bombay: Sangam Books, 1984. Guy Liddell Diaries, 5 May 1948, KV/4/470, UKNA, p. 90. Guy Liddell Diaries, 7 December 1948, KV/4/470, UKNA, p. 204. Herman, Michael, Intelligence Services in the Information Age: Theory and Practice, London: Frank Cass, 2001. Home Department, ‘IB Memorandum No. 26/Ests/47(9)’, Repository-II, File No. 70/ 13/47-Appth., 31 October 1947, NAI. Home Department, ‘IB Memorandum No. 26/Ests/47(7)’ Repository-II, File No. 70/ 13/47-Appth., 26 November 1947, NAI. Home Department, ‘IB Memorandum No. 8/Police/48’, File No. 16/50/48-Police, 3 May 1948, NAI. Home Department, ‘Proposals for the Reorganisation of the Delhi CID’, Repository-II, File No. 16/50/48-Police, 1948, NAI. Home Department, ‘Deputation of Mr. T.G. Sanjevi I.P. Director, Intelligence Bureau’, Repository-II, File No. 40/21/49, 1949, NAI. Home Department, ‘IB Memorandum No. 30/Est/50 (1)’, Repository-II, File No. 40/ 36/50, 1950, NAI. Home Department, ‘Continued retention of certain temporary posts in the various organisations under the Director, Intelligence Bureau’, Repository-II, File No. 40/ 36/50, 21 March 1950, NAI.

The Birth of Post-Colonial Indian Intelligence Culture 119 Kao Papers, ‘Ghana Episode Tape No. X’, NMML, 1958. Kennedy, Andrew B., ‘Nehru’s Foreign Policy’, in David Malone, C. Raja Mohan and Srinath Raghavan, The Oxford Handbook of Indian Foreign Policy, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015. Kennedy, Andrew B., The International Ambitions of Mao and Nehru: National Efficacy Beliefs and the Making of Foreign Policy, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011, p. 144. Klise, Richard W., ‘Memorandum for the Ambassador’, RG-59, Office of the South Asian Affairs: India Affairs, 1944–57, 18 April 1950, USNA. Kulkarni, R.N., Sin of National Conscience, Mysore: Kritagnya Publications, 2004. Kumar, Anuradha, Puffin Lives: Subhas Chandra Bose, New Delhi: Penguin, 2010. Kumar, Ravindra, Life and Work of Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, New Delhi: Atlantic Publishers, 1991. Kwadjo, Johnny, ‘Changing the Intelligence Dynamics in Africa: The Ghana Experience’, in Sandy Africa and Johnny Kwadjo, Changing Intelligence Dynamics in Africa, 2009. Kwesi Aning, Emmanuel, Emma Birikorang and Ernest Ansah Lartey, ‘The Processes and Mechanisms of Developing a Democratic Intelligence Culture in Ghana’, in Philip H.J.Davies and Kristian C. Gustafson, Intelligence Elsewhere: Spies and Espionage Outside the Anglosphere, Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 2013. Mathai, M.O., Reminisces of the Nehru Age, New Delhi: Vikas Publishing House Pvt Ltd, 1978. Ministry of Home Affairs, ‘Home Minister’s Address at the Conference of the Provincial Premiers and Home Minister held at Delhi on the 22nd, 23rd Nov 1947. Lunch by Home Minister’, File No. 106/47-P.S., Sardar Patel Papers, NAI, 1947. Mitra, Subrata K. and Michael Liebig, Kautilya’s Arthashastra: An Intellectual Portrait: The Classical Roots of Modern Politics in India, New Delhi: Rupa, 2017. Mullik, B.N., My Years with Nehru: 1948–1964, Bombay: Allied Publishers, 1972. Murphy, Philip, ‘Creating a Commonwealth Intelligence Culture: The View from Central Africa 1945–1965’, Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 17, No. 3. Nehru, Jawaharlal, The Discovery of India, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1946. Nehru, Jawaharlal, Jawaharlal Nehru: An Autobiography, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982. Office of South Asian Affairs: India Affairs, ‘J.C. Satterthwaite to James E. Webb’, RG-59, 1944–57, 15 June 1949, USNA. Office of South Asian Affairs: India Affairs, ‘The Intelligence Service’, RG 59: General Records of the Department of State, Entry A1–1303, USNA. Outlook, ‘Muslims and Sikhs need not Apply’, 13 November 2006, available at www. outlookindia.com/magazine/story/muslims-and-sikhs-need-not-apply/233087, accessed on 25 November 2019. Palit, D.K., War in High Himalaya: The Indian Army in Crisis, 1962, London: Hurst and Company, 1991. Paranjpe, Shrikant, India’s Strategic Culture: The Making of National Security Policy, New Delhi: Routledge, 2013. Patel, Vallabhbhai and Durga Das, ‘Patel to Reddy’, Sardar Patel Correspondence 1945–50, Vol. 5, p. 209. Patel, Vallabhbhai and Durga Das, ‘Patel to Rajagopalachari’, Sardar Patel Correspondence 1945–50, Vol. 10, pp. 462–463. Patel, Vallabhbhai and Durga Das, ‘Nehru to Patel’, 1 December 1950, Sardar Patel Correspondence 1945–50, Vol. 10, p. 463.

120 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Raghavan, Srinath, War and Peace in Modern India: A Strategic History of the Nehru Years, New Delhi: Permanent Black, 2010, p. 16. Raina, Asoka, Inside RAW: The Story of India’s Secret Service, New Delhi: Vikas Publishing House Pvt Ltd, 1981. Sankaran Nair, K., Inside IB and RAW: The Rolling Stone that Gathered Moss, New Delhi: Manas Publications, 2016. Sardar Patel Papers, ‘T.G. Sanjeevi to V. Shankar’, File No. 2/108, 11October 1947, p. 1. Sarin, L.N., Sardar Patel, New Delhi: Chand Publications, 1972. Scott Thompson, Willard, Ghana’s Foreign Policy, 1957–1966: Diplomacy Ideology and the New State, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2015. Sen, L.P., Slender Was the Thread: Kashmir Confrontation 1947–48, Bombay: Orient Longmans, 1969. Sengupta, Hindol, The Man who Saved India: Sardar Patel and his Idea of India, New Delhi: Penguin Books, 2018. Sharma, Nishu and Rajeev Kumar, ‘Sardar Patel’s Vision of the Contemporary World: Ideas on Geopolitical Environment’, Mahatma Gandhi Central University Journal of Social Sciences, Vol. 1, No. 1, 2019. Singh, Buta, ‘Paramountcy, princes and Sardar Patel (1858–1947)’, in Shodhganga: a Reservoir of Indian Theses, 19 May 2011, p. 104, available at https://sg.inflibnet.ac.in/ handle/10603/2085, accessed on 1 December 2019. Singh, Gajendra, ‘The Congress and the INA Trials, 1945–50: A Contest over the Perception of ‘Nationalist’ Politics’, in Kaushik Roy, Indian Army in the Two World Wars: Indian Army in the Two World Wars, Leiden: Brill, 2012. Subramanian, K.S., Political Violence and the Police in India, London: Sage Publications, 2007. Swami, Praveen, India, Pakistan and the Secret Jihad, London: Routledge, 2006. Swaminathan, R., ‘First, the Navy. Then, the RAW, Who Next, Prime Minister’, 1999, available at www.angelfire.com/in/jalnews/191991.txt, accessed on 1 December 2019. Tharoor, Shashi, Nehru: The Invention of India, New York: Arcade Publishing, 2003. Trivedi, S.D., Secret Services in Ancient India: Techniques and Operations, Bombay: Allied Publishing House, 1988. Unnithan, Sandeep, ‘Jawaharlal Nehru spied on Subhas Chandra Bose’s family for 20 years’, India Today, 10 April 2015, available at www.indiatoday.in/india/story/jawaha rlal-nehru-netaji-subash-chandra-bose-spy-exclusive-247945-2015-04-10, accessed on 30 November 2019. Vas, Eric A., Subhas Chandra Bose: The Man and His Times, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 2005. Walton, Calder, Empire of Secrets: British Intelligence, the Cold War and the Twilight of Empire, New York: The Overlook Press, 2014. Wilkinson, Steven I., Army and Nation: The Military and Indian Democracy since Independence, Washington DC: Harvard University Press, 2015.

Section III

Case Studies of India’s Wars

5

The Intelligence Bureau and the Sino-Indian War Between Mao’s Deception and Nehru’s Wishful Thinking

Introduction In 1960 the Indian Army’s General Officer Commanding-in- Chief (GOC-in-C) Eastern Command, Lieutenant General Thorat, while addressing a battalion at Walong, said “you have three years. The Chinese will come down this axis in October-November 1962. They will definitely come”.1 The warning was almost prophetic, for the war happened exactly in those two months. Despite the warning, the Indian Army was hopelessly outnumbered and overpowered; and, the Indian Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru is said to have called the war a “stab in the back”.2 In the realist view of interna­ tional politics, one might be confused by the usage of terms such as ‘betrayal’ in relation to bilateral relations. However, this is exactly how Nehru described the Chinese aggression, and his intelligence chief Bhola Nath Mullik even titled one of his memoirs as ‘the Chinese Betrayal’.3 China had launched a swift, massive offensive on 20 October 1962 and retreated with equal speed and then launched a fresh offensive on 17 November and decimated the Indian troops that faced the McMahon Line, before declaring a unilateral ceasefire on 20 November. The entire ordeal lasted only a month but bore a series of surprises that the Indians were unprepared for. A massive blow to the pride of the Indian Army, and more so to Prime Minister Nehru, the Sino-Indian war is now remembered as India’s biggest “humiliation”. Why was India surprised by the Chinese offensive? Was the surprise a result of an intelligence failure? Investigating these questions, this chapter firstly, exposes the problems faced by the Indian bureaucracy in gathering China related intelli­ gence, which has hitherto received little attention leading to sweeping claims that intelligence failure was the biggest cause of the 1962 surprise. Secondly, this expose strengthens the chapter’s efforts in debunking the popular myth held among scholarship that the 1962 debacle was a result of the Intelligence Bureau (IB) overstretching its mandate. Finally, it reveals that the 1962 sur­ prise was multi-causal, and in that there are much stronger reasons than the failure of strategic intelligence, which are directly linked to the intelligence culture of the Nehru days. DOI: 10.4324/9781003296195-9

124 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises

Background The Sino-Indian War was a culmination of a long border dispute along two key areas. In the Northern sector or the Ladakh sector (see Figure 5.1) – the trijunction of India-Pakistan-China – the dispute was over the Aksai Chin region that India claimed, but China had occupied. The region had little immediate strategic significance for India, but of vital importance for China as the road through Aksai Chin connected Tibet with mainland China. The other region in dispute was the Eastern sector or the Northeast Frontier Agency (NEFA), known as the McMahon line, located at the India-Burma-China tri­ junction, which was populous and administratively significant for India (see Figure 5.1). Born around the same time, India and China held similar features like vast territory and huge population, and ideologically leaned towards anti-colonialism and anti-imperialism. An era of friendship heralded between the two that culminated in the signing of the Panchsheel Agreement in April 1954, which set the terms for mutual respect and peaceful co-existence. India’s Prime Minister Nehru had made several friendly gestures towards China, key among them being the recognition of China as a legitimate party in the Korean conflict, and introduction of China to the United Nations and the Third World countries. Similar perceptions of China, however, were not shared by many others in India, key among them being Home Minister Sardar Patel, Foreign Secretary

Figure 5.1 India-China Disputed Regions Source: Author

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G.S. Bajpai, the IB and the Indian Army. Ever since China annexed Tibet in 1950, this cautious school of thinkers had been extremely wary of the Chinese threat to India. Nevertheless, as this chapter will expose, Nehru was joined in his belief of Chinese friendship by his left-leaning Defence Minister Krishna Menon and the two would dominate Indian policymaking towards China, until Menon was sacked after the outbreak of the war. Reflecting on Patel and the IB’s perception of the Chinese Nehru wrote: “the idea that communism inevitably means expansion and war, or, to put it more precisely, that Chinese communism means inevitably an expansion towards India, is rather naïve”. [emphasis original]4 Looking in retrospect, this chapter will highlight, that friendship with China was an illusion, as Beijing never perceived India as a friend, and Nehru was, in Chinese Premier Zhou Enlai’s description – a ‘useful idiot’.5 China had coined a highly deceptive phrase called Hindi Chini Bhai-Bhai (India and China are brothers), which meant nothing to the Chinese but was eventually popularised by Nehru. Hence, the conventional thought in New Delhi was that China will never attack India, and China’s deception kept reiterating this point while slowly intruding into Indian territory. Meanwhile, Menon’s steady directive to the military was to “look west” (Pakistan) and “forget the north”.6 In 1957 India discovered the Sinkiang-Tibet highway passing through the Aksai Chin region that opened up hostilities. In 1959 the clash of troops at Longju and Kongka Passes, the rebellion in Tibet that caused an exodus of Tibetans, and the Dalai Lama acquiring refuge in India, officially put the Bhai-Bhai era on the backburner. Henceforth, the Indian Army was made responsible for border security. Despite shortages in manpower and equipment, and, challenges of ter­ rain, weather and logistics, the Indian Army went about planning the defence of the borders. Meanwhile, China continued advancing into the territory that India claimed. In 1960, owing to a combination of intelligence inputs, observation and wargaming, the Indian Army’s top leadership had concluded that a Chinese offensive was certain; and accordingly, military planning had commenced. Nevertheless, leadership changes caused the Army to adopt a new strategy with advice from Nehru, Menon and Mullik, which has entered scholarly lexicon as the ‘Forward Policy’.7 The policy expanded the Indian military presence across the stretch of the border, as opposed to the previous strategy of engaging the enemy at positions of advantage. This expanding strategy, in effect, crippled the Indian military’s fighting abilities. From the adoption of the ‘Forward Policy’ until the outbreak of the war two years later, bilateral relations kept plummeting. But warning signs were consistently ignored and an illusion of friendship with China as well as confidence in India’s own defence capabilities remained at large. Nevertheless, by the end of the war, all illusions of Indian defence planning and preparedness were shattered.

126 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises While this is the background to the war, readers must note another important event that had a bearing on India’s intelligence assessment of the Chinese threat. Coinciding with the Chinese offensive was the Cuban missile crisis, which had a critical impact on both India’s intelligence analysis and diplomatic positioning. All of these will be explored in detail in this chapter. But first, it is essential to examine the nature of intelligence required to avert the 1962 surprise. This can be accomplished through an observation of India’s intelligence infrastructure vis-à-vis Mao’s China.

Taming the Dragon: India’s Intelligence Capabilities vis-à-vis the Chinese Strategic Intelligence from Mainland China As the previous chapter noted, the evolution of Nehru’s enthusiasm for foreign intelligence was marked with great reluctance. After a rather disturbing rela­ tionship with the IB during the early independent years, foreign intelligence had found governmental approval only in 1952. Despite this approval, the growth of China related foreign intelligence infrastructure was sluggish and apathetic. A proposal in 1957 to post an IB officer in Beijing and Shanghai was stiffly resisted by the R.K. Nehru, Indian Ambassador in Beijing. Although Nehru acquiesced, permission was granted only for Beijing.8 Nehru also downplayed the importance of intelligence in this context by stating that: “in order to judge the situation… the facts… are more or less public, though occasionally information about some private reports or meetings would, no doubt, be useful… Intelligence is often far too apt to look at matters from a much narrower point of view and thus in wrong perspective".9 This indicates Nehru’s preference for diplomacy and his own intellect over professional intelligence assessments. The weaknesses in diplomatic reporting, and the consequent need for the strengthening of intelligence reporting, had actually been visible on several occasions since the 1950s. The Indian diplomat in Beijing, K.M. Panikkar, had failed to report on the Chinese actions in Tibet during 1950.10 Chiding the Ambassador, Nehru had written to him: “we have not even had any information from you regarding the Chinese government directive to the “Liberation Army” to advance into Tibet. A full copy of this was transmitted to us by the UK High Commissioner, and it was embarrassing for us not to have received intimation from our own Ambassador regarding such serious developments”.11 Despite such failures, Nehru did not find it necessary to strengthen India’s intelligence coverage of China. On the contrary, whenever a concern about China was raised by intelligence officers they were regarded as alarmists. For

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instance, when B.C. Roy, the Chief Minister of West Bengal wrote to Nehru about the growing Chinese threat along with an intelligence report attached, Nehru replied to the letter saying: “there appears to me, however, a tendency among our officers to get greatly excited and take an alarmist view of all kinds of dangers, some real, others imaginary”.12 As a result, the IB had to vastly rely on the ambassador for any information from Beijing, who restrained by China’s counterintelligence could neither collect intelligence nor clarify the IB’s queries. For instance, the Indian embassy in Beijing learnt about the highway construction only after the Chinese news­ papers officially reported it. The IB, on the contrary, had some indication of a road being constructed through one of its agents in Tibet, but was unaware that it passed through Aksai Chin.13 Where the IB itself relied on media reportage, like the case of Deputy Director A.K. Dave seeking confirmation from the MEA on the authenticity of an article on Sino-Soviet relations published in The Washington Post, the MEA could not produce any credible intelligence, but only reported a certain pro­ blem between Khrushchev and Mao on the basis of interactions with students in Moscow.14 With such sombre state of intelligence, New Delhi’s ignorance of the Cuban missile crisis, and its impact on Sino-Indian relations, is unsur­ prising (see section Mao’s decision to strike India). As things stood closer to the war, bereft of political support, the IB had made little progress in collecting human intelligence (HUMINT) from China. However, Mullik had successfully managed to develop a crop of analysts with expertise on China, mostly political and economic experts, who would continue to serve with distinction even in the IB’s successor – Research and Analysis Wing.15 As early as 1949, realising the prevalent politico-diplomatic disinterest in the agency’s threat perception of China, Sanjeevi and Mullik had begun making ad hoc arrangements. The bureau’s senior leadership, which was filled with experts on international communism, was cognisant of the threat India faced as soon as the communist forces ousted the Kuomintang government.16 It began to rely on two sources – Chinese nationals settled in India and intelligence from the frontier region. Both provided some valuable inputs but still bore several challenges in building a strategic intelligence picture of China. Fol­ lowing the victory of the communist forces, many Chinese nationals had begun infiltrating into India through Burma and Singapore and settling down in places like Bombay and Calcutta. Unsurprisingly, the anti-communist IB leadership concluded that China would “assume large proportions” of their work in the future, which led to a conference of the officers in Calcutta in February 1949.17 Subsequently, immediate steps were taken to strengthen the Security Control Organisations and test the loyalty of the Chinese nationals. Of all the places, Calcutta emerged as the epicentre of India-China spy games.

128 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Chinese spies were not the sole concern for the IB in Calcutta. The Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) was also using Calcutta as a base for its China related operations. From the end of World War II, more so after the formation of the People’s Republic of China (PRC) in 1949, the U.S. had devised a mechanism to counter communist China by targeting overseas Chinese residents across the world. Subsequently, Calcutta had become its regional base, which also received reports on Soviet atomic tests monitored by the CIA station in Sin­ kiang.18 However, as John Foster Dulles began taking a hostile position towards India’s non-aligned policy, the CIA base in Calcutta came in for increased counterintelligence scrutiny. Similar was the situation in another place called Kalimpong, close to the frontier with Tibet. Calcutta and Kalimpong, despite being ideal locations for the IB’s intelligence coverage of China, the pre­ sence of foreign intelligence operations added a huge counterintelligence burden on the agency.

Intelligence from the Frontier Region Although it seemed promising, intelligence from the frontier region was not easily acquirable. Both the northern and the eastern sectors had difficult topographic, demographic and administrative conditions that threatened intelligence activity. In the north, the IB’s main challenge was weather and terrain. Before independence, the British had made several futile attempts to expand their intelligence coverage of the Sinkiang region and, thereby, relied increasingly on diplomatic reports from Kashgar. Reflecting the dire state, the then DIB had accepted that, what existed as intelligence arrangement had proven to be “rather more of a liability than an asset”.19 Post-independence, the IB identified Sinkiang-Karakoram-Leh as a potential route for Chinese infiltration, and thus, a Forward Intelligence Post was opened in Leh. This was the only post – owing to shortage of funds, and logistical and medical hazards – that was manned jointly by the IB and the Army.20 Medical and logistical support was provided by the Army; and only a few officers with medical clearance found postings in Leh. Beyond Leh, vehicular movement was impossible and mule rides were the only means of logistics. Similar difficulties were prevalent across the stretch of the borders. Beginning with a meagre 30 posts and 108 staff members in 1952, the IB had managed to establish 77 posts with 1590 personnel by 1962.21 These posts were, however, fraught with severe resource scarcities. An IB officer of the era recalled that: “before 1962, the IB on the Chinese border operated through their sea­ sonal check posts, which were vacated during the winters due to logistic problems. The presence of the IB was symbolic bereft of capabilities to gather any intelligence about Chinese tactical and strategic game plan. When China attacked, the IB check posts personnel simply abandoned their ground positions in pursuit of self-preservation”.22

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According to another officer, “collection of transborder HUMINT entailed a lot of imagination, innovation and risks”.23 In one instance, an officer named Verma, famed for his mule riding skills, had travelled too deep into the Chinese territory to meet a source. Unbeknownst to him, his source had been apprehended by the Chinese counterintelligence. Before Verma could realise what had happened, he was being chased by the Chinese soldiers. He quickly galloped towards the Indian Army and was saved in the nick of time. Following this incident, the senior IB leadership wanted Verma transferred elsewhere for this act of irresponsibility. However, Mullik admired the young officer for his courage and apparently gave the senior officers a piece of his mind for chiding Verma.24 Eventually, Verma’s name was recommended for a gallantry medal. Such was the level of risk and daredevilry required of the IB officials operating in the northern areas. In the east, the situation was different, as the region was better populated than the mostly uninhabited northern areas. The Indian Frontier Administrative Service (IFAS) had employed several governance measures with the support of local tribes. But here again, the Chinese had an advantage, as they were appealing to the racial similarities of the border tribes and promising them freedom from India.25 Contrarily, the anglicised demeanour of Indian officials had weakened India’s position with the tribes. Dr Elwin, Adviser for Tribal Affairs, NEFA, noted following his visit to the region that: “on the question on countering Chinese material influence… the Monpas must… feel they belong to India and that India belongs to them…It is essential that the Indians… should not look or behave like strangers… The alien character of our administrative efforts is impressed on the traveller even before he arrives at Bomdila… All the notice boards are in English… Hindi is making rapid and encouraging progress among the Monpas… I would suggest that all notices should be in the local language put into Devangiri script, or perhaps in both Hindi and Monpa”.26 While the tribes were making an effort to connect with the Indian union by learning Hindi, English was far too alien for them. Closer to the war, these differences further expanded, as the Indian Army, which was culturally far detached from the tribes began to operate in the region. This further eased China’s intelligence dominance in the region.27 The devastating implications of cultural divergences should have been obvious to the Indians from an incident as early as 1950. As an Assam Rifles patrol was moving up the Subansri River, it was lured in by one of the tribes with food and shelter. Later however, the patrolling party were killed almost to the last man, leaving 73 riflemen and one civilian dead. Such animosities in some parts of the region meant that an overwhelming show of force was the only means of operation.28 Elsewhere, there had been instances indicating that the Indian Army was absolutely unwelcome. On noticing the Indian Army, the tribes used to hide at best; while at worst, the troops were subject to poisoning and sorcery. Subsequent investigations often revealed that the tribes were

130 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises suspicious of the troops because of the racial and linguistic differences and unfamiliar mannerisms, which they perceived as a threat.29 Following the 1959 Tibetan rebellion, a sort of competition emerged between India and China to woo the frontier population. With generations of cross border connections, some basic necessities could only be sourced from across the borders. India’s approach was to limit the movement of people from NEFA to Tibet by trying to meet the demand for goods domestically. Mean­ while, China tried to allure the NEFA tribes with excellent hospitality and allurement tactics whilst limiting the flow of Tibetan tribes into NEFA. “Longju [in Tibet] had turned into a large centre for propaganda directed at NEFA’s inhabitants”, and the people crossing the borders into Tibet were enticed with riches and presents to elicit information and recruit spies and informants.30 Above all, the Chinese had exploited the innocence of the tribes to extract information. The frontier inhabitants did not even suspect that the innocuous queries, concealed in the tone of beneficence, had ulterior motives. In one instance, the Chinese collected valuable informa­ tion on the Indian troop movements by presenting a .303 rifle to the tribal population as a valuable piece of wood lost by the Indians, which needed to be returned. The tribes who had never seen a rifle before were impres­ sed with the Chinese façade of honesty and integrity and answered all their queries.31 Amid all these complexities, the Indian military leadership, was starkly aware of the importance of the frontier population in engaging China. In 1958, following a detailed study of Indian capabilities vis-à-vis the Chinese, General Thimmayya had recommended creating a guerrilla force comprising of the border populace.32 This would have served the dual purpose of tribal integration as well as establishing a first line of defence. Nonetheless, the advice fell on deaf ears, and only in the aftermath of the defeat was a top-secret organisation known as the Special Service Bureau formed to serve this purpose. Therefore, the main source of frontier intelligence for the IB was not available on India’s side of the borders, but mostly in the Tibetan refugees flowing into India. However, caution was required as numerous Chinese spies also infiltrated along with the refugees. They had spread all over NEFA and Assam disguised as shepherds and labourers, hosted and supported in their espionage efforts by Indian communists. In one recorded case, a Chinese agent operated a wireless set from a village named Chaku for 18 months before being detected.33 Reflecting the strength of the Chinese intelligence dominance in the region, the Daily Mail edition of 5 January 1959 carried a fairly detailed report on the Chinese intelligence build-up in the Tibetan region. It read: “organisations like ‘Command Academy’ and ‘Border Affairs Office’ are really the training schools for agents who infiltrate to the south disguised as traders. In Lhasa is the headquarters of Command Academy which now has a special section devoted to civil intelligence…The Border Affairs Office located in an isolated building near the Chinese Army HQ at Lhasa

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has five intelligence officers (working with) the Army, Police to train young Tibetans as pseudo-traders”.34 The report also traced the training curriculum in these institutes, which inclu­ ded language courses in Nepali, Hindi and Bengali, followed by infiltration training. It is therefore unsurprising that the interpreters who accompanied the PLA during the war spoke almost all Indian languages.35 Four hours a day were dedicated to intelligence work and the instructors were Chinese or Russians with an experience of India. Eight classes ran simultaneously, of which one contained college graduates with English knowledge. Apart from posing as pseudo-traders, massage parlours were another source of information for the Chinese, as the Indian Army officers were known to frequent such places. An Army officer who had once visited a parlour was flattered by the host who said, “by the looks of your moustache, you must be having at least 100 men under you”. The ingenuous officer replied, “I have 5000 men!”.36 The most intriguing of all is the evidence of a Chinese agent serving the Indian corps commander when the officer had visited NEFA. The agent who spoke fluent Hindi and English made detailed observations of the conversations between the corps and brigade com­ manders and reported them to his handlers the following day.37 Thus, in the race to establish an intelligence ‘area dominance’ around the frontier region, available evi­ dence suggests that the Chinese were far better placed than the Indians. The IB had only a modest presence in Tibet. The bureau was kept informed by the Indian Trade Agency in Yatung in the form of Weekly News Reports and Annual General Reports, and by the Consul General for India in Lhasa through periodic reports.38 Yet, there were three critical challenges to producing intelligence through these channels. One, the trouble of language was promi­ nent. The IFAS officer posted as the Consul General, 1959–61, spoke Hindi and Urdu and had “smattering knowledge of Apatani and Abor dialects”.39 As a result, this agency was seen more as an agency for repatriation of Indians in Tibet. The second and the most important challenge was the Chinese counter­ intelligence by means of constant monitoring and harassment, until the Trade Agency was completely destroyed after the war.40 While still in operation, the Trade Agent had already confessed that the quality of information he could obtain from locals was not strong.41 Lastly, the challenge came in the form of logistical difficulties owing to harsh weather conditions and the archaic commu­ nication systems in place.42 Under such circumstances, two other alternatives could have been explored – technical intelligence (TECHINT) and covert action. Scarcity of foreign reserves had severely limited India’s ability to procure the necessary TECHINT equipment. Even the Army’s signals equipment was outdated. A week before the war broke out, Defence Minister Krishna Menon had deman­ ded the dismissal of the Chief Signals Officer over inefficiency, without realising that it was the primitive equipment that had delayed communication.43 So far as the IB was concerned, despite its best efforts, only 50 percent of its border posts were provided with wireless tele-communication.44 Development of interception

132 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises and decryption facilities in an environment of poverty and resource crunch was a luxury that India could not afford at that time. Coming to covert action, Nehru’s aversion to secret means led to India missing a crucial opportunity to establish intelligence advantages against China. From the early 1950s, the Tibetans had shown a keen interest for covert operations against the Chinese. However, the Indian position was divided between Nehru’s reluctance and Mullik’s enthusiasm for such policies. Kalim­ pong was home to Gyalo Thondup, brother of the Dalai Lama, who was par­ ticularly interested in covert operations, but utterly disappointed with Nehru’s reluctance to help the Tibetan cause. Even in 1959, Thondup had met Mullik and requested a training centre for the Tibetan resistance fighters.45 Without political direction, nothing much moved on this front. By the time the war broke out, the situation relating to the Tibetan resistance was that the Tibetans were using Indian territory to partner with the Americans, with some assistance from Mullik and no approval from Nehru. Nehru knew about Mullik’s association with Thondup and had encouraged it. But this encouragement was not with a view of countering China. Instead, it was to ensure that the Tibetans did not use India as an operational base.46 Nehru had not only decided against the provision of active support to the Tibetans but also brought it to the notice of Zhou Enlai that Kalimpong had become a “den of spies”.47 Mao conveniently used this information to his advantage in information warfare against the Tibetans. In a speech, he asserted that, “There is a place in India called Kalimpong where they specialise in sabotaging Tibet. Nehru himself told the premier [Zhou Enlai] that this place is a centre for espionage, primarily American and British”.48 Therefore, the IB’s assistance to the Tibetans was negligible, and mostly limited to secretly training some of the Tibetan cadres.49 Covert action planning is an excellent means to develop and sustain sources for intelligence. This is some­ thing that India would realise in the coming years through its own positive experience in the 1971 war (see next chapter). Nevertheless, prior to the 1962 war, India’s covert action infrastructure was stillborn. Nehru’s aversion to covert action notwithstanding, his assertion about Kalimpong was not incor­ rect. The place had become an attraction for foreigners from Russia, the UK, the US, Greece, Denmark, Japan and Mongolia, with most being assigned espionage roles.50 This further exacerbated the counterintelligence burden on the IB’s scanty resources. Hence, looking in retrospect, the IB had suffered numerous challenges to intelligence collection, which was bound to have an impact on strategic intelligence production on China.

International Intelligence Co-operation Given the limitations for gathering intelligence from China, the IB naturally had to rely on its British and American counterparts with whom, as traced in

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the previous chapter, it had shared a close relationship. With the British, the relationship was a bit more formal and institutional than with the US. With regards to the US, a perception exists that no liaison arrangements emerged until India’s debacle in 1962. According to Mikel Dunham, following the war: “T.M. Subrahmanyam was tapped to serve as the Indian Intelligence Ser­ vice’s first liaison officer to the CIA— there was no such contact with America prior to Nehru being slapped in the face by the Chinese”.51 However, this is not true. There is evidence of Indo-US intelligence co­ operation dating back to the Korean War. An IB officer of the era has gone on record to state that the IB-CIA ties dates back to 1952 during the heights of the Korean War. The CIA was apparently planning a transborder operation in the Yunnan province using the remaining Kuomintang troops in North Burma in order to divert the Chinese troops from Korea.52 Thus, there were signs of emerging intelligence ties between New Delhi and Washington since the early 1950s. However, New Delhi’s political and foreign policy choices played an important role in scuttling such ties in the run up to the 1962 war. The arrival of Krishna Menon as the Defence Minister of India became a major impediment in intelligence co-operation with the west. While Menon’s ideas matched that of Nehru’s on non-alignment and issues such as Kashmir, his sympathies towards communism and unwarranted attacks on Anglo-American foreign policies had made him averse to authorities in London and Washington. The earliest report on Menon’s communist leanings was noted in an IB report drafted by Sanjeevi in 1949, when the former was Indian High Commissioner to the UK.53 Deriding the IB’s struggle against the communist menace in several Indian states, Menon had expressed his dislike towards anticommunism repre­ senting the common link between India and Britain. He also termed the IB’s actions against the communists as “barbaric and inhuman”.54 Although this report caused irritation among several senior Congress leaders like Morarji Desai, Sardar Patel, Maulana Azad, etc. Nehru defended Menon by suggesting that the latter’s words were a result of his health condition and mental strain.55 After Menon’s appointment as Defence Minister in 1957, matters got worse, especially with respect to how the British and Americans viewed intelligence co-operation with India. From the period around independence to his departure from the MoD on 31 October 1962, Menon was an important target of British and American intelli­ gence, not least because of his closeness to Nehru. Although they knew that Nehru did not always accept Menon’s advice, they were confident that Nehru was “very apt to be swayed by him”.56 In addition, Nehru had held Menon too dearly for the British and American authorities to express their disapproval of his appointment to critical positions. This should be less surprising considering that Indian intelligence officials themselves had found the Nehru-Menon relationship an impediment to honest expression. Members of India’s Joint Intelligence

134 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Committee (JIC) were aware of the perils of Menon being in control. The JIC chairman was informally updated by some members of the committee that the Americans had not forgotten Menon’s “anti-US bias”.57 As the Sino-Indian relationship was plummeting in the mid-1950s, the JIC members only hoped in vain that Menon would be “entrusted with another portfolio” instead of defence.58 Notwithstanding such concerns, Menon was made Defence Minister; and the result was that intelligence co-operation with the British and Americans was dealt a severe blow. Nonetheless, this is neither to say that Menon was an agent of Soviet Union and/or China, nor is it to say that Britain or America would have been benevolent to India in the absence of Menon. There is no evidence whatsoever to prove Menon’s contacts with any Soviet bloc intelligence service. A KGB attempt in 1962 to raise a political campaign in his favour, without his knowledge, is the only time he seems to have come close to benefitting from a foreign intelligence agency.59 According to the Russians, Menon’s anglicised lifestyle did not make him a potent political force in India. Thus, Britain and America were clearly reading too much into the Menon threat, while subtly glossing over their own reluctant approach towards India. The truth is that India was never a viable candidate in the Anglo-American strategies in South Asia. New Delhi’s policy of non-alignment was perceived as immoral and hypocritical. In a briefing to the British Prime Minister, the Com­ monwealth Relations Office (CRO), wrote a memo which was titled “Indian Double Standards”.60 The document aptly covers the British thinking on India’s foreign policy behaviour following Nehru’s condemnation of the British and French role in the Suez crisis and New Delhi’s several other pro-Soviet actions. In all this, Menon’s influence was seriously contemplated. All these might seem to be the reasons for Britain’s restrained intelligence co-operation with India. Nonetheless, London’s aversion to co-operate with India predates the arrival of Menon. The MI5’s 1948 grading system to share intelligence placed India in category B, which had a restricted access to London’s secret intelligence. The following year, India was dropped to category C, which hardly received any classified intelligence.61 As for the Americans, before viewing India’s foreign policy as hypocritical, Washington had a regional strategy for South Asia that envisioned Pakistan as a critical partner that needed to be strengthened, while India was the trouble­ maker that needed to be tamed. A State Department document of 3 April 1950 establishes this thought succinctly, “Pakistan will emerge after India as the strongest power between Turkey and Japan on the periphery of Asia. Pakistan’s endeavour to assume leadership of a Middle East Muslim Bloc, may in time become desirable critically to review our concept that Pakistan’s destiny is or should be bound with India… the development of Pakistan-India entente cordiale appears remote. Moreover, if India’s execution of its policy [in nation building] may indicate national traits which in time, if not controlled, could make India Japan’s successor in Asiatic

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imperialism. In such a circumstance a strong Muslim Bloc under the leadership of Pakistan, and friendly to the US, might afford a desirable balance of power in Asia”.62 Therefore, it is unfair to blame the lack of Anglo-American intelligence co­ operation with India solely on Menon. Nevertheless, insofar as sharing of China related intelligence with India was concerned, Menon’s presence surely had a detrimental impact. Britain could not share intelligence secured from secret sources whilst Washington had directed London not to share any sensitive information with New Delhi. Once Menon was sacked after the first Chinese offensive, British authorities changed their stance claiming that: “at the highest levels, India’s security was assessed as good and it should be possible to get American approval to provide India with certain highly classified information. The danger was that if the Chinese learnt where their weaknesses lay they might tighten their security arrangements and stop this most valuable source of information”.63 Therefore, as a result of Menon’s own ideological and political leanings as well as the Anglo-American misreading of his influence on India’s policy­ making, intelligence liaison as a source of information on China held little value. Owing to such reserved co-operation between the IB and western agencies, where relationships mostly catered to the needs of the latter than the former, the IB fell critically short of intelligence, especially of military nature. More on the state of military intelligence on China is offered in the next sub-section.

Military Intelligence Like the IB, colonialism and partition had a similar impact on military intelligence in India. The Army’s Intelligence Training School and Depot in Murree became part of Pakistan. Concerned solely with fighting commun­ ism, the British offered no help in organising military intelligence in India. Further, even the U.S. was directed by the British not to help India in this regard.64 Indigenous efforts, thus, emerged; and a 1954 study aimed at establishing a tri-service intelligence wing had set the following objectives:65 • • •

creation of a Defence Intelligence Organisation drawing personnel from all three services with an initial strength of 30, of which 12 would serve in the External Intelligence cell of the IB; Military Attaches would be drawn from this organisation; Incentivise personnel to draw the best talents from the services.

However, all that emerged was an Intelligence Corps for the Army, and positions of Assistant Chief of Air Staff (ACAS-Int) and Principal Director Naval

136 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Intelligence (PDNI) respectively, which mostly focused on counterintelligence and security. It was only after the 1962 war that a serious consideration of re-organisation in the Indian military intelligence setup was made. While these essential requirements remained unfulfilled, the responsibility for strategic military intelligence fell on the IB. Before independence, the British had managed to keep the IB and the Army on opposite sides rather than complementing each other. Lord Mountbatten, the last viceroy, admitted in 1963 that, before 1947 India was: “taking over control of the Army and I had to know what was going on, and for this purpose I had relied on the DIB, wicked Imperialist that I was. There was therefore no close liaison between the DIB and the GHQ in my day”.66 Post-independence, the divide continued briefly until the 1951 Himmatsinghji Committee recommended that strategic military intelligence be made entirely the IB’s responsibility.67 Subsequently, intelligence analysts from the IB began to receive training at the Military Intelligence Training School and Depot (MINTSD) in Pune on a permanent basis. However, this practice was soon terminated owing to the inability of Mullik to convincingly answer a query made by General Thimmayya (COAS) regarding the ranking of the analysts. In Thimmayya’s view, the intelligence analysts had to be allotted ranks equivalent to commissioned officers if they were to train alongside military officers. Fear­ ing a dilution of the IPS dominance within the IB, Mullik tried to evade the General’s query. Consequently, the IB operatives remained incompetent in military intelligence collection and analysis.68 Military relevant information like carrying capacities of roads, fleets, fuel requirements etc. were completely incomprehensible as the analysts lacked any military knowledge.69 Nevertheless, insofar as production of intelligence on the Chinese ORBAT was concerned, HUMINT gathered by the IB’s spies, border observation posts and the Dalai Lama’s contacts was sufficient to produce a more or less accurate picture. This is evident in the Annual Military Intelligence Reviews produced by the Army Headquarters, which were largely based on the IB’s reportage.70 The real issue, however, was in military intelligence analysis. The IB’s analysis of China’s intentions were shaped by its expertise in international communism rather than a militaristic appreciation of the enemy. Even the 1950 estimate on the Chinese expansionist tendencies was based largely on Chinese communism rather than militarism or territorial adventurism.71 The agency completely lacked any knowledge of China’s military history or elite analysis. Language was another impediment in estimating China’s intentions. As observed previously, China had set up intelligence training centres in Tibet that trained operatives in Indian languages and dialects. The same cannot be said about India. Training of operatives and analysts in the IB had left much to be desired, owing to shortages in funds and instructors. With the help of Home Minster K.N. Katju and Ambassador K.M. Panikkar, Mullik sent a few officers

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to be trained abroad, and managed to organise a language training facility within the IB. The results, however, remained unsatisfactory. Only a modest 20 percent of the intercepted messages could be decoded. With less than half a dozen Indians capable of understanding Chinese, the coded Chinese messages remained just as enigmatic even if they were intercepted.72 Similar was the situation with the Indian Army. A Federal Public Service Commission’s (FPSC) notification seeking applications for the job of Chinese and Japanese language trainers for the Armed Forces Academy found no responders. With no Indian suitably qualified, a Chinese national, Mr. Shiue Lei, was hired for a four-year term, after the IB approved Mr. Lei’s character.73 Even here, the results remained far from satisfactory. Thus, having observed the overall situation with regards to India’s intelligence prowess against the PRC, it is fathomable that there were significant obstacles to the production of an accurate intelligence picture of the enemy. With such weak intelligence penetration of China, the Indian intelligence bureaucracy relied heavily on the observation of cross-border activities and the study of Chinese media and propaganda material to draw strategic conclusions. This became the organisational foundation for the ill-conceived ‘Forward Policy’.

Strategic Intelligence in the Formulation of the ‘Forward Policy’ In 1959, the Bhai-Bhai era had come to an end and the Chinese troops had begun encroaching upon territory in the Ladakh region, compelling an Indian response. The 1959 Annual Military Intelligence Review (AMIR) produced by the Army HQ, on the basis of IB reports, had concluded that China would hesitate to launch an offensive and limit itself to border incidents.74 The 1960 AMIR assessment indicated significant improvements in Chinese communica­ tions and logistics infrastructure that greatly increased the speed of deployment.75 Until this point however, Indian military preparations to face the Chinese threat were shaped by the 1959 assessments. In the northern sector, where logistical difficulties were acute, Indian military deployment would be sufficient only to exhibit presence and stake claims rather than engage the enemy. In the eastern sector, a three-tier defence system had been in place (explored in detail in the section on defence preparedness). The events between 1960 and the outbreak of the war are of greater importance to understand the role intelligence played in India’s military policy. The AMIR produced in October 1961 had showed increased Chinese capabilities across the northern sector. A month earlier, a Chinese post close to the Indian post at Daulat Beg Oldi in Ladakh was discovered, and the Chinese troops had attempted to capture the Indian patrol. Considering these developments, Indian policymakers instructed the IB to produce a report on the Chinese capabilities and intentions. On 26 September 1961, the IB submitted its report to the government and this report became the foundation of the ‘Forward Policy’.76 On observation of the Chinese tactics in the preceding years, the IB concluded that “the Chinese would like to come right up to their claim of 1960 wherever

138 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises we ourselves are not in occupation. But where even a dozen men of ours are present, the Chinese have kept away”.77 Based on this premise, the report recommended manning the entire stretch of the border. By doing so, beyond estimating the Chinese strategic capabilities and intentions, the IB’s report had trespassed into the realm of military tactics and policy prescription. Considering the IB’s dearth of military knowledge, its tactical recommendations had to be cautiously approached by the military and the political leadership. Instead, the political leadership readily accepted the recommendations, while the Indian Army, led by the Chief of General Staff B.M. Kaul, only put up a token resis­ tance by highlighting the logistical difficulties to the Defence Minister. Both the political and the military leadership were, therefore, confident that the Chinese would not attack, and the ‘Forward Policy’ as prescribed by the IB went into being, the operational challenges notwithstanding. Why did the IB arrive so terribly wrong in its assessment of the Chinese reaction? Scholars like K. Subrahamanyam and Srinath Raghavan have argued that the reason for this gross misjudgement lie in the collection agency’s invol­ vement in analysis.78 Analysis and assessment of intelligence, according to them, should have been carried out by the JIC, which had the Military Intelligence Directorate under it. However, the JIC, for all practical purposes, was a defunct organisation and its Chairman K.L. Mehta had no prior exposure to intelligence work.79 The MI Directorate, on the other hand, was merely a counter­ intelligence organisation that possessed no foreign intelligence responsibilities. Commenting on the MI Directorate, in 1963, General J.N. Chaudhri (COAS) admitted to Lord Mountbatten that, “intelligence should not only be “inwards” it should look “outwards”. The main trouble with our intelligence, which, if I may say so, is a British legacy, is that there is too much of looking inwards [counterintelligence]”.80 Although both Raghavan and Subramanyam accept the dire condition of the JIC and the MI Directorate, they opine strongly that analysis by collecting agency led to the misjudgement of China’s reaction. This accusation, however, has to be observed with caution. In the US, the CIA has both collection and analytical functions, while, in the UK, the Secret Intelligence Service (also known as MI6) has only collection responsibilities leaving analysis to the JIC. Which of the two systems is qualitatively better is a debatable question. But there is no gainsaying that both the systems have had their own share of suc­ cesses and failures. Therefore, it is prudent to ask why the IB failed in rightly assessing the Chinese reaction, instead of squarely blaming the organisation for having outstretched its role. Answering this question helps understand why even if the JIC was functional, the result might not have been different. The quality of intelligence analysis is in part determined by the quality of intelligence collected. Insofar as the IB’s conclusion was concerned, it was based on empirical observation of the Chinese tactics in the recent past. Hypothetically, if raw intelligence was passed on to the JIC, the JIC might

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have come to a similar conclusion or sought further inputs on Chinese inten­ tions to predict Beijing’s reaction to India’s ‘Forward Policy’. Given the absence of credible sources in mainland China, could the JIC have formed any different conclusions from that of the IB? Quite unlikely. Therefore, it is arguable that the wrong conclusion drawn by the IB was symptomatic of an information vacuum, rather than the dual functionality of the IB. That the IB was drawing its conclusions on the basis of incomplete intelligence was evident even later, when it made a significant change in its position. In May 1962, on reception of intelligence from a source in the Chinese Consulate in Calcutta regarding the possibility of military action in Ladakh, the IB somewhat rectified its earlier assessment. Mullik considered the intelligence so authentic and alarming that he personally reported it to Nehru and Menon.81 Even more important was a report on 8 June 1962, in which the IB completely changed its stance and argued with authority that the Chinese will attack in September over the border issue. It not only got its prediction on China’s future course of action right, but also the estimated timing was quite accurate.82 Despite this report, the IB went without recommending the revision of the ‘Forward Policy’. The reason for this blunder, again, was the IB’s reliance on cross-border observation instead of strategic sources. Based on a reliable source in Tibet, the IB managed to answer two strategic intelligence questions, i.e. would there be an attack, and, when would the attack be, correctly.83 But, other critical questions like what form the attack would take and how it would be executed remained unanswered. Therefore, significant organisational weak­ nesses and analysis on the basis of incomplete information makes the 1962 war a clear case of ‘intelligence failure’. However, there was also a larger policy failure emanating out of wishful thinking by the consumers that chiefly led to the surprise of 1962. Before examining these facets, it is necessary to observe the parallel developments in Beijing to understand the blunders committed by the Indian intelligence and decision makers. Therefore, let’s now briefly turn towards understanding Beijing’s decision for war.

Mao’s Decision to Strike India Neville Maxwell’s treatise, which was once regarded as the most authoritative account, squarely fixed the blame on India for provoking the Chinese. In the final implementation of the ‘Forward Policy’, one border post, known as the ‘Dhola Post’ that appeared north of the McMahon line, was argued as the casus belli for the Chinese offensive. However, new evidence indicates that Beijing’s war decision predates the establishment of the Dhola Post. The official PLA history of the 1962 war alleges an Indian scheme to turn Tibet into a ‘buffer zone’ as the war trigger. It was this perceived scheme of 1959 that Mao alleged as Indian betrayal. In March 1959 a rebellion broke out in Tibet, which was assisted by the CIA. On 17 March the Dalai Lama had fled Tibet and sought asylum in India, which deeply angered Mao. The same day, at the politburo meeting, Zhou

140 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises concluded an Indian involvement in the rebellion. On 25 March Deng Xiaoping echoed Zhou’s findings, and insisted that China should not publicly criticise India, but settle the scores when the time comes.84 From then on, for starters, China began strengthening relationship with Pakistan and providing covert support to the Nagas and Mizos – two Northeast Indian tribal groups fighting a secessionist movement.85 An interesting and noteworthy observation here is that, although Mao was convinced of an Indian covert hand in Tibet only after the rebellion, suspicions of Indian maleficence existed among the ranks of the PLA several years before the rebellion. In 1955 a Welsh mountaineer Sydney Wignall, was recruited by the Indian Army to spy on Chinese military activities in Tibet. Soon he was captured and during the course of his interrogation, the Chinese interrogators repeatedly referred to the Indians as imperialists and American stooges. When Wignall queried about the 1954 agreement between Zhou and Nehru, the Chinese interrogators spoke highly of Menon, who was regarded as anti-colo­ nialist and anti-imperialist, but condemned Nehru as an agent of the CIA, to be precise – a ‘Western Fascist Lackey Imperialist Running Dog’.86 Against this background, it is unsurprising that, following the 1959 rebellion, the Chinese authorities would have missed the opportunity to accuse India of covert intervention. The state controlled Chinese media produced several articles warning India to change its behaviour. Two articles appeared on 6 May 1959: one, in the People’s Daily that warned of China’s retribution was personally drafted by Mao, and the other, written by Zhou in Renmin Ribao, accused Nehru of harbouring strategic ambitions in Tibet.87 At the same time, the Indian daily editorials also carried anti-China opinions; but unlike the Chinese media houses, the Indian newspapers were not state owned, and publications were not state controlled.88 Hence, China’s conclusions on India’s position on Tibet were largely shaped by Indian public opinion rather than governmental posi­ tion. The Tibetan issue and the Chinese perception of Indian intentions in Tibet, thus, highlights something peculiar from the 1962 war point of view. That is, the foundations for the war lay not only in Indian intelligence failure but also a probable Chinese intelligence failure. Just as the IB had failed to read the Chinese intentions, Mao might have failed to appreciate Nehru’s true intentions in Tibet. Mao’s paranoia about India’s alleged colonisation of Tibet was reinforced and established beyond doubt by his advisors. In reality, how­ ever, as observed earlier, India’s role in Tibet was far more nuanced and the degree of involvement, both preferred and real, changed even at an individual level. Nehru had explicitly declared that Tibet was integral to China. Even though he preferred that the Tibetans held some autonomy, his method of achieving this was Gandhian – peaceful and non-violent. Therefore, the granting of asylum to the refugees following the PLA’s crackdown was purely on a humanitarian basis. In fact, on suspicion of unidentified flights flying in Indian airspace, the Indian Foreign Secretary Subimal Dutt had warned U.S.

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Ambassador Ellsworth Bunker that any flights supporting the Tibetan rebels passing through Indian airspace would be shot down. Dutt was unambiguously conveying the Government of India’s position. Though Bunker inferred that the Indian government was not averse to U.S. support of the rebels, and was merely concerned about hostile public opinion, there is no evidence to show Nehru’s active support to the rebels.89 Without political approval, Mullik’s assistance was merely tactical in nature and not part of a dedicated covert action strategy.90 Therefore, the Chinese assessment that India/Nehru was running a covert operation to liberate or colonise Tibet was absolutely baseless, probably owing to lack of credible intelligence inputs. By mid-1962 Beijing’s analysis can be summed up in three points:91 • • •

Nehru wished to divert attention from internal issues to some external trouble; In antagonising China, he hoped to win international, especially the US’, support; He hoped to attack China’s prestige in the Third World.

The next section debunks all these claims. In fact, Mao acceptance of these points arose from his own reflections on the situation. Being a leader of an authoritarian regime, such considerations seemed acceptable to him, while democracies functioned differently. Had the IB drawn similar conclusions about Mao, India would not have been surprised to the same degree when the Chinese offensive came. Finally, Mao sought one final intelligence assessment on 16 October that showed no changes in Indian intentions. By then he had ensured that interna­ tional opinion was favourable towards China, and the date of offensive was fixed on 20 October. The challenge of fighting in the winters at such high altitudes was accepted for two main reasons. Firstly, the PLA had just engaged the Tibetan rebels and acclimated for high altitude combat. Secondly, if time was conceded, India could become better prepared. The PLA intelligence at that time was aware of the dearth of basic amenities like food and winter clothing affecting the Indian border troops. In 1958, an eleven member Chi­ nese military delegation that had visited India were, on Nehru’s directions, given a tour of important Indian military establishments by top military leaders who would take part in the 1962 war.92 Consequently, the PLA had also become aware that Lieutenant General B.M. Kaul, the commander of the IV Corps, facing the McMahon line had no combat experience.93 The Chinese intelligence was also informed about the Indian positions in NEFA through aerial and ground reconnaissance carried out through Burma. This is one cru­ cial aspect that highlights India’s policy failure and needs a bit of examination. When the PLA troops invaded NEFA on 17 November, they did not invade from the north as the Indians had expected. They had entered from the east, via the Yunnan province, passing through the Kachin State of Burma. Since 1961 the IB had reported an increase in Chinese muleteers in the Kachin region,

142 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises which did not raise any alarm bells in New Delhi. It was later realised that the muleteers were Chinese Army and Intelligence personnel in disguise. More astonishing was the fact that the Chinese Air Force produced high quality photographs of the Indo-Burma borders, which the Burmese government permitted only after receiving approval from the Indian government!94 Hence, while Mao was undertaking every step to teach Nehru a lesson, his pre­ paratory efforts seem to have been supported by Nehru’s strong illusions of Chinese bonhomie. Hence, in the end, both the Indian and Chinese intelligence agencies had a fairly clear picture of each other’s capabilities, but grossly miscalculated the intentions. However, with a stronger military and better planning and operational conduct, the costs of miscalculation were much lesser on the Chinese. Where and why exactly did India fail to predict the Chinese designs? The answer to these lies in four important factors explained in the next section.

India’s Estimative Blunders and the 1962 Shock The 8 June report that expressed the Chinese intentions in stark terms – an attack was imminent in September conditioned on the non-resolution of the border issue – has been used by Mullik and Dave, the two IB officers to have recounted the IB’s role in the 1962 war, to emancipate the agency from accusations of intelligence failure. Why then was the Forward Policy pursued with such rigour as to provoke the PLA forces? There are four distinct expla­ nations to this blunder – Chinese deception and the IB’s outdated analytical framework; generic challenges to current estimative intelligence magnified by the IB’s collection failure; wishful thinking and pretence on the part of the political leadership; and finally, an inept military leadership that surrendered basic military fundamentals to political coercion. A combination of these factors contributed to the lack of preparedness and failure of policy. An elaboration is offered below: Chinese Deception and the IB’s Outdated Analytical Framework The IB was operating on an archaic analytical framework that failed to take into consideration the developments in Beijing, while the latter continued to feed into the IB’s misconception. When it eventually became clear that hosti­ lities were increasing, lack of convincing evidence caused the IB to sustain its conventional thought that the Chinese would not attack. There were three premises that sustained the idea of Chinese inaction. First, strains in SinoSoviet relations had weakened China significantly; second, the threat of a U.S.-supported Taiwanese invasion loomed at large and made war with India highly improbable; and third, the failure of the Great Leap Forward and the economic distress that had engulfed the Chinese society would make war a costly affair for Mao.95

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China, being cautious about the potential impact of the international climate on its war aims, had paid sufficient attention to geopolitical developments alongside assessing Nehru’s intentions. The final intelligence analysis Mao sought on 16 October before declaring war, referred to the perceived U.S.-Soviet-Indian encirclement that emboldened Nehru’s belief of China’s inaction.96 Mao, therefore, understood that Nehru’s global stature demanded preparation of a favourable international climate before launching the offensive. In Decem­ ber 1959, the reception received by Dwight D. Eisenhower, the first U.S. President to visit India, could only be surmised as a reaction to the ongoing Sino-Indian border dispute. Consequently, thoughts of an India-US-Taiwan axis began causing anxieties in Beijing. However, such fears were put to rest by a direct interaction between China and the U.S. In Warsaw, the Chinese Ambassador Wang Bingnan met U.S. Ambassador Cabot, who assured the former in clear terms that the U.S. would not support a Tai­ wanese attack on mainland China “under any circumstances”.97 By Wang’s own admission, this factor played a critical role in China’s decision for war with India.98 Similarly, Mao also ensured that the Soviets were on the Chinese side. Sino-Soviet differences and Indo-Soviet bonhomie suggested that a Soviet neutrality in the event of a war was possible. However, the Cuban missile crisis deterred such a possibility, as Mao tactfully conditioned his support to the Soviets on the latter’s support in the war against India. Therefore, Khrushchev told the Chinese Ambassador Liu Xiao on 14 October that “if China were attacked, it would be an act of betrayal to declare neutrality”.99 On account of these developments, it is evident that the two main factors that drove IB’s analysis of China’s intentions had attained complete redundancy in the months preceding the war. Yet, the IB persisted on these factors because of the deceptive tactics employed by China. For instance, even after seeking assurance from the U.S. of non-compliance with Taiwan’s military moves, the Chinese media repeatedly warned India not to take advantage of Beijing’s preoccupation with Taiwan to further push forces to Aksai Chin. The IB, bereft of credible sources in Beijing, was culling out most of its intelligence from the Chinese media, which deliberately overestimated the Taiwan threat in Beijing’s threat calculus.100 Reflecting on the IB’s excessive reliance on Chi­ nese media, an officer of the era recalled that “we had to read a lot of Chinese propaganda”.101 The last factor, that economic considerations would compel restraint on Mao, was again a misreading by the IB because of ‘mirror-imaging’.102 Mao’s intelligence had declared that Nehru was vying for conflict with China in order to divert attention from India’s internal troubles, while the IB concluded that China’s internal troubles would dissuade Mao from making largescale military moves against India. In effect, the respective agencies were merely reflecting on what they would have done under the given circumstances. Mao was a firm believer of uniting people against an external enemy and 1962 was an

144 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises opportune time to employ this tactic. He knew well how to use a “heightened sense of tension to promote collectivisation”.103 Thus, a primary motivator of aggression was contrarily concluded by the IB as a potential deterrent. There was one other deception tactic employed by Beijing that led India to infer that the main offensive, if it came, would be in Aksai Chin/Ladakh, not NEFA. Expansion of this point requires some background on India’s defence posture. Hence, this will be explored in the final sub-section on military planning.

IB’s Failure to Develop Current Estimative Intelligence In drafting intelligence reports, analysts generally rely on indisputable facts that are represented with a high degree of certainty. Beyond this, owing to a lack of ‘direct or indirect’ evidence, the analysts make use of their expertise to pass judgements or provide estimates. The language used in provision of these esti­ mates vary in the degree of certainty depending on the availability and quality of information. As most intelligence agencies work to predict futuristic actions of their targets, much of the reportage is written using estimative language, which includes words like ‘possible’, ‘probable’, ‘likely’, ‘may’, ‘anticipated’ etc. giving the consumers an indication of what could happen, but also absolving the analyst of any responsibility if the event failed to occur. It is acceptable that such language be used because in many cases the enemy might not have taken the decision that the intelligence analysts are trying to predict.104 Theoretically, such is the nature of the intelligence estimating business, and the IB was no stranger to this. Since 1950 the IB had been entertaining the possibility of a communist expansionist threat from China. On 8 June 1962, however, it stated with cer­ tainty that an attack was imminent in September, much before Mao had even decided to attack. This report, based on a highly reliable source in Tibet, was the sole mention of a Chinese attack with certainty. Nonetheless, until the outbreak of the war in October, the DIB never brought up this report with any seriousness. Even as late as 17 September, following the fighting in the Dhola area, the IB only reported that the fighting might not be a localised affair, further adding that “the Chinese seemed well set for an offensive action at Ladakh, Sikkim and NEFA”.105 Lacking sources in Beijing, the IB had main­ tained no degree of certainty in its reports. In essence what the IB dealt with can be termed as ‘bounded uncertainty’, which Brian Greene regards as: “a circumstance in which relative uncertainty as to the probable origins of surprise coexists with extreme uncertainty as to how such threats might manifest themselves, if at all”.106 The ‘extreme uncertainty’ or inability to imagine the ways in which the Chi­ nese threat would manifest was born out of the IB’s ignorance of China’s military history. The lack of knowledge on Chinese military strategy and war fighting tactics created a vacuum that essentially led to the IB’s failure in

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analysing the Chinese intentions. It must, however, be emphasised here that the ‘bounded uncertainty’ logic applies only to the IB and not the political leadership. The latter had not an iota of belief in the Chinese surprising India in any manner. The theory that China and India were friends was firmly rooted until the PLA offensive came.

Prevalence of Wishful Thinking Consumers In 1951 a young Indian Army Captain in Shillong (India’s Northeast) was tasked to prepare a Guard of Honour for Nehru. During the early hours on the scheduled day, as Nehru was strolling through the gardens admiring the roses, he noticed a group of Gorkhas along with their officer. Nehru curiously walked up to the officer and inquired what was happening. After being told that the preparations were for his Guard of Honour, Nehru engaged the Captain in further conversa­ tion and said “look young man, look to your north [northern borders], China are our historic friends, we share religious and trade ties…. They will never be our enemy”. The young Captain, in his typical military mannerism, replied with a “yes, sir”.107 Nehru had not rectified this false perception even after the 1959 Longju and Kongka Pass skirmishes. He instead interpreted them as local PLA troops acting out of confusion over the border alignment, without Beijing’s approval.108 The fact that Nehru and Menon yielded bilateral relations with China greater importance than the defence of Aksai Chin gave further force to such interpreta­ tions. This also explains Nehru’s reluctance to make public the 1959 border inci­ dents.109 However, in 1960, when it became clear that the India-China friendship was now a thing of the past, another wishful thought prevailed, that is – despite hostilities China would not launch an armed attack. When such was the case, the ‘Forward Policy’ as espoused by Mullik was readily acceptable to Nehru, as it gave the added benefit of silencing the parliament and public opinion that was fuming over the government’s inaction.110 In order to understand why the Indian political leadership was bent on befriending China ignoring all information to the contrary, it is necessary to reiterate the political leaders’, especially Nehru and Menon’s, thinking on matters of intelligence, defence and foreign policy towards China. Despite adopting a defensive security orientation, Nehru had failed to make intelligence the fundamental basis for decision-making.111 Subrahmanyam reckoned that the “problem was the slow development of the awareness for the need for intelligence assessments… in our political leaders who hailed from an idealistic background”.112 In 1950, prior to the Chinese annexation of Tibet, Patel, Mullik and Bajpai had cautioned Nehru of an aggressive China on India’s frontiers. However, Nehru, along with K.M. Pannikar, the Indian Ambassador to China, grossly dismissed this assessment assuming that the possibility of a world war would forbid China from making any military moves in Tibet. Even as later events proved them wrong, there was no change in Nehru’s perception. The IB was not consulted before the signing of the 1954 Panchsheel Agreement; and the

146 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises illusive optimism that escalation to world war would dissuade Mao from military action was sustained until the eve of the war.113 That Nehru should have treasured such an assessment is absurd considering that, in October 1954, Mao had explicitly expressed his disagreement over Nehru’s perception of warfare.114 The IB’s assessment of the outcome of the Panchsheel Agreement on India’s security was one of disaster.115 The Tibetans living in India also warned Nehru a full five months after the signing of the Panchsheel Agreement that “if China succeeded in Tibet today, India would face problems with China tomorrow”.116 Sumal Sinha, the Chargé d’affaires of the Consulate General of Lhasa in Tibet also sent a stark telegram in 1956, stating “The Chinese have entered Tibet. The Himalayas have ceased to exist!”. Yet, Nehru continued to “harbour very fond images of China and India leading Asia forward and, through Asia, the world forward”.117 Hence, wishful thinking by the Indian Prime Minister was impermeable to counter-suggestive inputs. The wall of wishful thinking was made further impervious by Nehru’s temper.118 Nehru’s Foreign Secretary Y.D. Gun­ devia has noted that: “tradition had it that no one was to speak up to Nehru or contradict him or argue with him. If you did, he would fly into a temper and throw you out of the room. You risked losing your job”.119 Such instances were recounted even by military officers of the era. Mullik, thus, understood Nehru’s character well and always remained “deferential and compliant” with him.120 Menon’s anger was no different from Nehru’s, and his communist views and tendency to downplay the Chinese threat added to the damage that Nehru was already causing. The JIC Chairman has noted that Menon dismissed “warn­ ings” as “fantasies”, and several members of the committee perceived him as Nehru’s “blind spot”.121 In 1955 the Indian Army, through a Military Intelli­ gence Officer, presented to Nehru and Menon a report on the Chinese threat, for which Menon reprimanded the officer for “lapping up American CIA agent-provocateur propaganda”.122 In 1958, when General Thimmayya, the COAS, pointed out to Menon the immediate need for acquiring weapons and equipment, Menon angrily retorted, “where are the threats? If it is Pakistan then you tell me you can handle it, and I say, China will not attack”.123 Thimmayya’s repeated requests to allocate border control to the Army were rejected, and permission was not granted until August 1959 when strains in bilateral relations had become serious and a confrontation only too obvious. At this juncture, the Army suffered serious shortages in equipment and man­ power; lack of experience in high-altitude combat, and above all, poor border infrastructure impacting operations. The IB, falling short on military knowl­ edge, was ignorant of the operational impact of these challenges when it pre­ scribed the ‘Forward Policy’. That the Army went about implementing it exposes the most critical aspect of the ‘policy failure’ element of this case, which is explored in the next sub-section.

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Military Planning and Policy as Cause for Surprise The strategic premises of the Indian planners during the 1962 war were as follows: Table 5.1 Assumptions versus Outcomes in Indian Military Planning in 1962 Premise

Surprise

1. Forward Policy may upset the Chinese 1. China launched an attack on 20 and result in a prolonged border tenOctober 1962. sion, but not war. 2. If China attacks India, it will be a 2. China launched a swift offensive on long-drawn war that will eventually 20 October, withdrew immediately; spill over into World War III. launched a massive counterattack on 14 November and declared a uni­ lateral ceasefire on 20 November. 3. The Eastern defences were strong 3. The collapse of the Eastern defences enough to withstand a Chinese assault. came as the biggest surprise of all.

Between the Northern and Eastern sectors, the latter was strategically important for India, and, New Delhi was confident in its defences. Why then did the Indian Army fail so terribly in the East? Why did a professional and respected army that had made its mark in some of the toughest battles of the World War II and the 1947–48 Indo-Pak War, prepare so terribly to meet the Chinese threat? On observing the Japanese failure to foresee a strong U.S. reprisal following the Pearl Harbour attacks, scholars Goldman and Warner have noted that: “a suspension of common sense was possible only in Tokyo’s militarised political climate, in which the army dominated the prime minister, who could not form a government without the army’s support”124 The converse of this is true when observing the 1962 war. The Indian military leadership completely compromised common sense and military logic, making way for the civilians to pronounce decisions that were beyond their expertise. The failure to display professional behaviour should in no measure be brushed against the entire Indian Army. Even in defeat, the Indian soldiers had shown exemplary courage and valour, and the Indian Army, at that time had some knowledgeable and gallant officers who would go on to display their might in the wars against Pakistan in 1965 and 1971. However, in 1962, the Indian Army’s top leadership had been systematically politicised over the years. The acceptance of the ‘Forward Policy’ by the Indian Army despite running contrary to every military logic should be observed against this backdrop. China’s capture of an Indian patrol party in 1958 had caused alarm in the Indian Army. Assessing that the Chinese were not the friends that New Delhi assumed them to be, General Thimmayya (COAS) ordered, Lietutenant Gen­ eral Kalwant, GOC-in-C Western Command, and Lieutenant General Thorat,

148 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises GOC-in-C Eastern Command, to prepare a detailed terrain analysis with the help of the IB. Known as Exercise Sheel and Exercise Lal Quila, war games were conducted under the direction of Thimmayya. A pessimistic conclusion was drawn indicating that with the rate of preparedness at that time, “it was difficult to contain or even delay aggression by China”.125 The general defence prowess of India was in a desperate shape in 1958, owing mainly to two rea­ sons. Belief in the ideals of non-violence had resulted in strong resistance against attempts to increase the defence budget, which led to an abysmal pace of modernisation and manpower augmentation. The second, directly related to Menon’s preconceived notions about China, as observed previously. The differing opinions of the intellectual Krishna Menon and the seasoned General Thimmayya – previously commander of the British Indian Army in the Arakan during World War II and winner of the British Distinguished Service Order – had resulted in a coldness between the Army and the Min­ istry of Defence. Menon was in favour of indigenisation of Indian military equipment, while Thimmayya was more pragmatic and time sensitive in meeting the Chinese threat. A request for additional troops and resources on 27 August 1959, after the Longju incident, had infuriated Menon, who retorted “you are embroidering the Chinese threat. They have no design to attack India”.126 In the next couple of days, as personal equations between the two deteriorated, and irked mainly by the nonchalance of the defence minister over national security matters and political interference in army promotions, the General submitted his resignation. Although the resignation was withdrawn subsequently owing to Nehru’s plea, it is noteworthy that the threat of resignation was an important deterrent against political interference/ dominance in matters military. A three-tier defence system had emerged through Exercise Lal Quila, known as Thorat Plan. The forward tier comprised of symbolic outposts instead of war capable deployments. The middle tier was the withdrawal point for the forward troops to create logistical difficulties for the invading forces. The final tier was the ‘Defence Line’ where the actual Indian offensive would be launched against the enemy. This plan was laid out considering the PLA’s capabilities in 1958 and the difficulties posed by the terrain and weather.127 Therefore, around 1961, although India’s military capabilities had not increased, planning and deployment was guided by military thought. The idea was that the defence of the McMahon line would be possible only by engaging the invading Chinese troops deep inside the Indian territory where they would be open to a counterattack. The ‘Forward Policy’ adopted in November 1961 diluted the entire strength of the Thorat plan, and the har­ binger to this militarily unsound decision was largely facilitated by the change of guard in the Army High Command. General Pran Thapar had replaced Thimmayya as the COAS; and LieutenantGeneral B.M. Kaul, whose promotion had caused much controversy in the Army was now the Chief of General Staff. Nehru and Menon were much more comfortable with the new military leadership. According to them, the Thorat

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Plan was defeatist as it sacrificed territory, and hence, sought protection of the entire border – which was how the ‘Forward Policy’ was envisioned. Imple­ mentation began in the northern and central sectors, and by the end of July 1962, about 36 new posts had been set up at distances that were impossible of being supported in the event of hostilities. It also had the reverse effect of weakening the vital bases in the interiors. In view of this, the Western Com­ mand provided an appraisal on 15 August 1962 concluding that “in case of hostilities we would be defeated in detail”. Its criticism of the policy was piercing: “in view of the foregoing, it is imperative that political direction is based on military means. If the two are not co-related, there is a danger of creating a situation where we may lose both in the material and the moral sense…there is no shortcut to military preparedness”.128 Ignorant of the hardships in the Eastern sector, it was assumed that the imple­ mentation of the ‘Forward Policy’ in the Western and Central sectors could be emulated even there. On 8 September, while an army post called the Dhola post in the NEFA region was surrounded by about 600 PLA troops, an SIB representative recalled having found a wooden plank a few months earlier at the Thagla Ridge with writings in Chinese characters that read ‘this is our river and mountain’.129 On 22 September a critical meeting held in the Defence Minister’s room took a complete stock of the situation and the COAS indi­ cated a probable Chinese retaliation in Ladakh. Even then, Foreign Secretary M.J. Desai and the prevalent wisdom that the Chinese will not attack, barring maybe an attempt to capture a post or two, strongly prevailed.130 The COAS only put up a token resistance by seeking written orders from Government of India to evict the Chinese from the Dhola post, which was duly obliged.131 On 4 October the newly created IV Corps was placed under the command of Lieutenant General Kaul, who took it upon himself to fulfil the government’s wishes of extending the NEFA defences to the forward lines.132 Notwithstanding the repeated ominous cries by the local Brigade commander that the policy was not based on any military logic and would lead to a disaster, Kaul stated that “the eviction of the Chinese was imperative in the national interest and the country was prepared to lose 20,000 lives if necessary”.133 Beneath this talk of bravado lay the foundational idea that the Chinese would not attack. In concentrating the 7th Infantry Brigade at Dhola to evict the Chinese, Kaul hoped that he would satisfy the government that “the Army had done its best to carry out its orders”.134 Such was the contrast between the previous military leadership that threatened resignation over disagreements in professional matters and Kaul, who would work to appease the political leadership. Kaul’s determination to push the 7th Infantry Brigade to untenable positions was least surprising because he was specially picked for the task as the previous commanders were not being quick in implementing the ‘Forward Policy’ – quite logical considering the logistical challenges. Efforts ensued under Kaul, and on 10

150 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises October, the Chinese attacked the 7th Infantry Brigade outnumbering the Indian soldiers 20:1. Kaul, in utter shock and disbelief, is noted to have remarked to the Brigadier, “oh my god. You are right, they mean business”.135 Nevertheless, no withdrawal orders were given as this was also considered a border clash and not a war, yet. Indian troops gained nothing out of this adventure, while the Chinese confirmed their numerical and tactical superiority. When the war officially began on 17 October, the 7th Infantry Brigade was the first in the Chinese line of fire. Brigade Commander J.P. Dalvi and 200 soldiers were taken prisoners of war. Kaul, by then, had left to New Delhi, owing to altitude sickness. Therefore, observing holistically, the lack of professionalism among the Indian Army’s leadership to stand up to their political bosses as a rationale for India’s surprise has greater force than that of intelligence failure. Steven Hoffmann suspects that this slump in defence preparedness in NEFA was due to a psychological reasoning called ‘shuttling’.136 Nehru and Menon felt that if there was a Chinese attack, NEFA’s defences were adequate. Yet, when indicated that the defences were not adequate, the earlier belief that the Chinese will not attack took prominence. There is also another evidence that indicates that the possibility of a war with China was not considered with ser­ iousness. While the crisis was unfolding in 1962 and the war broke out during the winter of that year, a strong section of the Indian Army was sent on a peacekeeping mission to the Democratic Republic of Congo. Major General Ashok Mehta, who served in Congo during that time, commented that: “if [Delhi] knew that we were going to go to war with China, why would they be sending three of India’s highest decorated battalions – 4 Madras, 4 Rajputana Rifles and 2/5 Gorkha – with two Victoria Cross holders to Congo? Relying entirely on tactical intelligence, I don’t think Delhi had any strategic thinking at all”.137 Hence, it is clear that while preparations to defend the borders were underway, the perception that China would not attack was still strong. The 17 October offensive, therefore, shocked Nehru, Menon and Kaul equally. For three weeks, from 24 October onwards, the fighting had paused. On 14 November hostilities broke out again at Walong, which resulted in a massive Chinese counter-offensive in Se-La and Bomdila. Events that transpired from then on would go on to cause the biggest surprise to the Indians and is cited as the reason for the 1962 debacle being regarded as a historic ‘humiliation’. During the lull period, the Indian Army had regrouped and attacked the Chinese at Walong, giving the Chinese an excuse to launch its second offensive. This particular offen­ sive would not have been as devastating for the Indians for two principal reasons. Firstly, even though the Chinese were numerically stronger than the Indians, India enjoyed air superiority. The main Chinese airfield at Lhasa was “adequate for transport aircraft, but not capable of operating jet aircraft”.138 However, the existing logic that the war would be stretched indefinitely, inviting superpowers’ intervention, withheld deployment of the Indian Air Force.139

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Secondly, the failure to defend Se-La was caused by a fainthearted divisional commander ordering a withdrawal, leading the troops led by Brigadier Hoshiar Singh into a death trap. The Chinese had by then flanked them and taken positions at their withdrawing positions.140 The decision-making process that culminated in the withdrawal orders is clear evidence that the strategic leadership was in massive confusion and disarray.141 Against these developments, on 19 November, Nehru panicked and wrote two letters to President John F. Kennedy requesting support from the U.S. Air Force.142 However, a shock awaited Nehru as the Chinese quickly declared a unilateral ceasefire on 20 November, marking the final humilia­ tion the country’s political leadership and armed forces had to face in a week’s time. After deciding that war was inevitable, Mao, despite himself being an experienced military leader, is reported to have met the top political and military leadership to plan the shape and outcome of the war reflecting a “participative and inclusive style of decision making”, while Nehru and Menon, along with the IB, despite lacking military knowledge of any kind, planned a military strategy “with Kaul acting as their hatchet man”.143 Paki­ stan centric planning by Menon, accentuated by IB’s reports of Sino-Pak axis, had led to the prioritisation of the Western sector over the East. This coin­ cided with the IB learning from the Indian communists in Calcutta that Ladakh was China’s main focus.144 However, this was actually a Chinese subterfuge to divert India’s attention from NEFA.145 Despite Ladakh being strategically important, the Chinese were aware of their own logistical and operational limitations to inflicting a damaging pain on the Indian troops in Ladakh. Therefore, “a big battle” was required where the Indian forces were in good numbers, but not sufficient to put up a fight.146 Thus, when the war commenced, the Chinese were banking heavily on the Indians to react strongly giving them an excuse to launch a massive counter­ offensive. The Indian military planners walked straight into the Chinese trap and on 17 November, they were met with the second offensive. Looking in retrospect, the Chinese had employed a similar allurement strategy against the Americans in Korea by making a tactical withdrawal.147 As noted by Mahadevan, “an IB analyst with a sense of military history might have foreseen the possibility of China reusing its Korean stratagem against India”.148 While this observation on the IB is valid, the Indian Army cannot be absolved of the blame for inadequately studying and understanding the Chinese strategies and tactics. Looking back, an article written by Major General Som Dutt in a defence journal just a month before the war, had these words written about the Chinese way of fighting: “Chinese methods have been well-reasoned. They have paid considerable attention to the realities of life rather than academic approaches to the methods of conducting warfare”.149 Given the political and military mindset prevalent during 1962, this statement might have served as an apt caution. Nevertheless, like most instances of surprises, this is also clear only in hindsight. With the combination of a wishful thinking

152 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises political leadership and a politically subservient intelligence and military leadership, a judicious appreciation of the enemy was simply impossible.

The Sino-Indian War: A Result of Intelligence and Policy Failures The 1962 war has presented an apt case study to understand why cultural factors hold better explanatory capabilities of strategic surprises than organisational ones. In fact, the organisational weaknesses in the IB had been born out of a culture of ‘political ignorance’ of the foreign intelligence machinery. A lack of security consciousness among the political leaders, combined with resistance from the diplomatic corps, resulted in the intelligence managers struggling to develop adequate intelligence penetration of a counterintelligence state like China. There were serious limits to what Mullik could achieve in the absence of political support – indication of the second trait of Indian intelligence culture, i.e. intel­ ligence managers driving the intelligence machinery. Despite the IB’s best efforts to develop strategic intelligence on the Chinese in a remarkably short duration of time, the PLA intelligence had established an indisputable edge over India. In the words of Tashi Sonam, an IB agent during that time: “The Chinese knew everything, Indian deployment almost to the section and platoon level was known to them. Sometimes they knew what the Indians were going to do even before the decision was taken”.150 Contrarily, the IB had neither political nor military sources worthy of mention. With sources in Beijing found wanting, the agency relied mostly on crossborder intelligence, which at times facilitated the right conclusions, like the 8 June 1962 report, but lacked substantial evidence for comprehensive analysis and improve consumer receptivity. When the Indian government, for the first time, sought an assessment in 1961, it was typical of the colonial era practice of turning to intelligence as a form of ‘threat reaction’. Without proactive encouragement and strengthening of the IB, the agency could not have been expected to pro­ vide an accurate picture of Beijing’s intentions. As a result, while an attack was predicted, the obsolete deterrent value of the ‘Forward Policy’ could not be adequately appreciated. While this fits the description of an ‘intelli­ gence failure’, two critical features – the weakening of India’s diplomatic position as a result of the Cuban missiles crisis, and, the rout of the Indian defences from the Eastern sector – cannot be blamed on intelligence failure. No intelligence agency in the world could have potentially learnt of these, much less drawn the right analysis. This is where this war becomes a classic case of policy failure. A dominant perception among the political consumers of intelligence – that India and China are friends; and, that the risk of a Sino-Indian war spiralling into a world war would deter China from attacking – supressed all

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available warning indicators. The other important consumer of intelligence, viz. the military, remained fully cognizant of the Chinese threat and suitable measures were being undertaken to meet the threat, despite political non­ chalance in the face of a deteriorating security situation. However, a change in military leadership in 1960 brought the political and military appreciation of the enemy on the same page. Eventually, as the crisis worsened, a disastrous combination of the misperception of Beijing’s reaction to the ‘Forward Policy’ and an unprofessional military appreciation of India’s own defence weaknesses caused the Indians to be taken by surprise. Therefore, in summation, the 1962 surprise is a multifactorial phenomenon emerging out of both intelligence and policy failures, which are both directly linked to the flawed Indian intelligence culture that witnessed years of neglect of the intelligence profession, and inadequate acceptance of the intelligence product by the political and military leaderships. The war, thence, provoked a reform in the existing ideas about intelligence and national security. Merely, nine years later, with capabilities significantly improved, and better threat appreciation by the political and military leadership, the 1971 war, like the 1962 war, became another landmark event in contemporary Indian history, but for the opposite reasons. What were the changes that occurred in the way India thought about and did intelligence after the 1962 debacle? How did they lead to the spectacle of 1971? These will be discussed in the next chapter.

Notes 1 Shiv Kunal Verma, 1962: The War that Wasn’t, New Delhi: Aleph Book Company, 2016, p. xiv. 2 J.P. Dalvi, Himalayan Blunder, Dehradun: Natraj Publishers, 2010, p. 364. 3 B.N. Mullik, My Years with Nehru: The Chinese Betrayal, Bombay: Allied Publishers, 1972. 4 Cited in Arun Shourie, Self-Deception: India’s China Policies Origins, Premises, Les­ sons, London: Harper Collins, 2013, p. 64. 5 Rajeev Srinivasan, ‘What If India Had Won The 1962 War Against China?’, Outlook, 23 August 2004, available at www.outlookindia.com/magazine/story/ what-if-india-had-won-the-1962-war-against-china/224864, accessed on 23 March 2019. 6 Chandra B. Khanduri, Thimayya: An Amazing Life, New Delhi: KW Publishers, 2006, p. 251. 7 The term ‘Forward Policy’ was not an official term. It was first used and popu­ larised by author and journalist Neville Maxwell, to justify his allegations of Indian aggression. Neville Maxwell, India’s China War, London: Jonathan Cape Ltd., 1970.; However, the Indian military posts technically fell in between the old and new border lines claimed by China. Underequipped to put up any fight with the Chinese, the posts were just to act as observation posts, which according to Sub­ ramanyam should have been better termed as “intensive and continuous surveil­ lance policy”. K. Subrahmanyam, ‘Nehru and the India-China Conflict of 1962’ in B.R. Nanda, Indian Foreign Policy: The Nehru Years, Delhi: Vikas Publishing House, 1976, p. 125.; Hence, the claim that the ‘Forward Policy’ provided the Chinese the casus belli for invasion is absurd. Mahadevan, in his work, recalled a senior Indian intelligence officer noting that Maxwell had been personally

154 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises

8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35

cultivated by Zhou as a “political and propaganda asset”. Prem Mahadevan, ‘Intelligence and the Sino-Indian War of 1962’ in Floribert Baudet, Eleni Braat, Jeoffrey van Woensel and Aad Wever, Perspectives on Military Intelligence from the First World War to Mali, The Hague: T.M.C. Asser Press, 2017, p. 56.; Whether this allegation is true or not, the fact is that Maxwell’s treatise was indeed the reference point for Zhou’s accusation of India’s belligerence during the US-China rapprochement a decade later. Thus, Maxwell did effectively serve the purpose of Chinese propaganda. Bruce Riedel, ‘JFK’s Forgotten Crisis: Tibet, the CIA, and Sino-Indian War’, International Spy Museum, 12 January 2016, available at https://podtail.com/en/podcast/spycast/author-debriefing-jfk-s-forgotten-crisis­ tibe/, accessed on 21 March 2019. ‘Nehru to Foreign Secretary’, 30 October 1957, SWJN, 2(39), p. 303. Ibid. Shourie, Self-Deception, 2013, p. 48. ‘Cable to K.M. Panikkar’, 27 October 1950, SWJN, 2(15–2), p. 333. ‘Nehru to B.C. Roy’, 16 November 1950, SWJN, 2(15–1), p. 342. Mullik, The Chinese Betrayal, 1972, pp. 198–199. ‘Sino-Soviet Relations’, External Affairs, File No. 8(21)EUR(EE)60, NAI, 1960, pp. 11–14. B. Raman, The Kaoboys of R&AW: Down Memory Lane, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 2013, p. 235. Jairam Ramesh, Intertwined Lives, London: Simon and Schuster, 2018. Mullik, The Chinese Betrayal, 1972, p. 105. John Prados, Safe for Democracy: The Secret Wars of the CIA, Chicago: Ivan R. Dee Publishers, 2006, pp. 184–185. ‘Copy of Secret Letter No. SA/446, dated Dec 11/13, 1943 from the Director, Intelligence Bureau, Home Department, Government of India, to M.C. Gillett Esq, H.B.M.‘s Consul General at Kashgar’, External Affairs, File No. 391 C.A./44, NAI. Mullik, The Chinese Betrayal, 1972, p. 105. Ibid, pp. 135–136. Interview with former IB Assistant Director R.N. Kulkarni, 10 January 2020. B. Raman, ‘Leh: Those Magnificent Kaoboys on Mule-Back down the Memory Lane’, South Asia Analysis Group, 28 April 2013, available at www.southasiaana lysis.org/node/1255, accessed on 27 April 2019. Ibid. P.B. Sinha and A.A. Aithale, History of the Conflict with China 1962, New Delhi: History Division, Ministry of Defence, Government of India, 1992, p. 60. ‘Dr. Elwin notes on his visit to Bomdila and Tawang’, External Affairs, File No. 4 (5)-NEFA/56, NAI, pp. 5–18. D.K. Palit, War in High Himalaya: The Indian Army in Crisis, 1962, London: Hurst Publishers, 1991, pp. 56–58. Maxwell, India’s China War, 1970, p. 74. Interview with former Special Service Bureau (SSB) officer – S1, 26 January 2019. B. Guyot-Réchard, Shadow States: India, China and the Himalayas, 1910–1962, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016, pp. 225–226. This way the Chinese had managed to learn every aspect of the troops’ daily routine, their strength and the pattern of movement. Interview with former SSB officer – S1, 26 January 2019. Khanduri, Thimayya, 2006, p. 237. D.R. Mankekar, The Guilty Men of 1962, Bombay: The Tulsi Shah Enterprise, 1968, p. 20. Available in ‘Ghana-Visit of the Prime Minister of Ghana Dr. Kwame Nkrumah, to India’, External Affairs, File No. 19(45)-AFR, 1957, NAI, pp. 184–186. Verma, 1962, 2016, p. 409.

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36 Interview with former SSB officer – S1, 26 January 2019. 37 Verma, 1962, 2016, p. 409. 38 ‘News reports from Indian Trade Agent, Yatung’, Political Affairs, File No. 4(1)-P/ 57, 1957, NAI.; ‘Annual General Report of Indian Trade Agent’, Political Affairs, File No. 9-WT/58, 1958, NAI. 39 ‘Personal Case of P.N. Kaul Consul General for India, Lhasa’, External Affairs, File No. S/3/L/61, 1961, NAI. 40 Claude Arpi, ‘Where is the Indian Trade Agency?’, 1 December 2018, available at http://claudearpi.blogspot.com/2018/12/where-indian-trade-agency.html, acces­ sed on 3 March 2019. 41 ‘Dairy of Indian Trade Agent during 1959’, Indian Trade Agency, File No. 9(12) WT/57, 1959, NAI. 42 Mullik, The Chinese Betrayal, 1972, p. 194. 43 Dalvi, Himalayan Blunder, 2010, p. 284. 44 Mullik, The Chinese Betrayal, 1972, p. 137. 45 Anne F. Thurston and Gyalo Thondup, The Noodle Maker of Kalimpong: The Untold Story of My Struggle for Tibet, Gurgaon: Random House India, 2016, p. 223. 46 John Kenneth Knaus, Orphans of the Cold War: America and the Tibetan Struggle for Survival, New York: Public Affairs, 1999, p. 121. 47 Thurston and Thondup, The Noodle Maker of Kalimpong, 2016, p. 168. 48 Tsering Shakya, Dragon in The Land of Snows: The History of Modern Tibet since 1947, New York: Penguin, 1999, p. 159. 49 Subir Bhaumik, Insurgent Crossfire: North-east India, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 1996, p. 27. 50 Thurston and Thondup, The Noodle Maker of Kalimpong, 2016, pp. 168–169. 51 Mikel Dunham, Buddha’s Warriors: The Story of the CIA-backed Tibetan Freedom Fighters, the Chinese Invasion, and the Ultimate Fall of Tibet, New Delhi: Penguin Books, 2005, p. 360. 52 Bhaumik, Insurgent Crossfire, 1996, p. 25. 53 ‘DIB’s Report on Mr V.K Krishna Menon’, Home Department, File No. DIB DO 2/49, 1949, NAI. 54 Ibid. 55 ‘Nehru’s Letter to Patel’, Sardar Patel Private Papers, File No. 2/301, 1949, NAI. 56 ‘Krishna Menon - Report from Sir Alexander Clutterback’, Commonwealth Relations Office, KV 2/2514, 1954, UKNA, p. 13. 57 K.L. Mehta, In Different Worlds: From Haveli to Head Hunters of Tuensang, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 1985, p. 168. 58 Ibid, 169. 59 Christopher Andrew and Vasili Mitrokhin, The Mitrokhin Archive II: The KGB and the Wider World, London: Penguin, 2006, p. 314. 60 ‘Indian Double Standards’, Commonwealth Relations Office, DO 196/126, 1961, UKNA. 61 Calder Walton, Empire of Secrets: British Intelligence, the Cold War and the Twilight of Empire, New York: The Overlook Press, 2014, pp. 141–142. 62 ‘Policy of the United States with respect to Pakistan’, US Department of State, 3 April 1950, available at https://history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/frus1950v05/ d837, accessed on 22 April 2019. 63 ‘Sino-Indian Hostilities’, DEFE 4/149, Joint Intelligence Committee, UKNA, 1962. 64 ‘Memoranda received unofficially by Sardar Patel, presumably from Indian Military Officers, at the time of reconstruction of the armed forces on the eve of partition’, SPC (4), 1947, p. 559. 65 R.S. Chowdhary, A Short History of the Intelligence Corps, Pune: Military Intelligence Training School, 1985, p. 30.

156 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises 66 ‘Speaking Brief for the Chief of the Defence Staff’, T.T. Krishnamachari Papers, Subject File No. 27, 1963, p. 11. 67 Also known as the North and North-East Border Committee report, the original document is unavailable in the MoD. However, that the committee directed the IB to collect strategic military intelligence remains an undisputed fact. What is largely unknown, due of the unavailability of the document, is the reason for handing over strategic military intelligence to the IB. From a reliable source, the author learnt that the reason lay in the military’s overt presence which was deemed unhealthy for intelligence operations. Also, the committee considered the unlikelihood of the Army being able to build trust with the frontier population by wielding weapons. Hence, the civilian intelligence organisation was entrusted with the responsibility of military intelligence too. Interview with former SSB officer – S1, 26 January 2019. 68 R.N. Kulkarni, Sin of National Conscience, Mysore: Kritagnya Publications, 2004, pp. 97–98. 69 Mullik, The Chinese Betrayal, 1972, p. 194. 70 Partially released ‘Henderson Brooks-Bhagat Report’, 1963, available at www. indiandefencereview.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/TopSecretdocuments2. pdf, accessed 1 April 2019 (hereafter HBR). 71 Mullik, The Chinese Betrayal, 1972, p. 110. 72 Ibid, p. 194. 73 ‘Appointment of Lecturer Chinese in Armed Forces Academy’, Defence, Reposi­ tory-II, File No. DEFENCE/B/1950/JUL/7426/7440, 1950, NAI, pp. 1–39. 74 HBR, 1963, p. 5. 75 Ibid, pp. 6, 39. 76 Palit, War in High Himalaya, 1991, pp. 97–98. 77 Ibid, p. 97. 78 It must, however, be noted that one study conducted in 2008 identified that, with the availability of new information, Subrahmanyam had revised his argument. His later conviction that there was a failure of intelligence collection in effect matches with that of this book. Prem Mahadevan, ‘The Failure of Indian Intelligence in the Sino-Indian Conflict’, Journal of Intelligence History, Vol. 8, No. 1, p. 1.; For Sub­ rahmanyam’s earlier views and Raghavan’s arguments, see K. Subrahmanyam, ‘Nehru and the India-China Conflict of 1962’, in B.R. Nanda, Indian Foreign Policy: The Nehru Years, Delhi: Vikas Publishing House, 1976, p. 123.; Srinath Raghavan, War and Peace in Modern India, Ranikhet: Permanent Black, 2010, p. 278. 79 Mehta, In Different Worlds, 1958, p. 168.

80 ‘Speaking Brief for the Chief of the Defence Staff’, T.T. Krishnamachari Papers,

Subject File No. 27, 1963, p. 116. 81 Mullik, The Chinese Betrayal, 1972, p. 330. 82 Ibid.; A.K. Dave, The Real Story of China’s War on India, 1962, New Delhi: United Services Institute of India, 2006, p. 14. 83 Mullik, The Chinese Betrayal, 1972, p. 195. 84 P.J.S. Sandhu, 1962: A View from the Other Side of the Hill, New Delhi: Vij Books India Pvt Ltd, 2015, pp. 23–24. 85 Sinha and Aithale, History of the Conflict with China 1962, 1992, p. 32. 86 Sydney Wignall, Spy on the Roof of the World, Edinburgh: Canongate, 2000, pp. 108, 158. 87 John Garver, ‘China’s Decision for War with India in 1962’, in A.I. Johnston and R.S. Ross, New Directions in the Study of China’s Foreign Policy, California: Stanford University Press, 2006, p. 95. 88 For a detailed survey of the public and parliamentary opinions, media coverage and editorial content emerging out of India on the Tibetan issue, see the chapter on Public Opinion in the Build Up to the War in Sandhu, 1962, 2015.

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89 ‘Telegram from the Embassy in India to the Department of State’, US Department of State, Vol. XIX, 1958–1960, 16 November 1960, p. 814. 90 Steven A. Hoffman, ‘Rethinking the Linkage between Tibet and the ChinaIndian Border Conflict: A Realist Approach’, Journal of Cold War Studies, Vol. 8, No. 3, 2006, p. 190. 91 Garver, ‘China’s Decision for War with India in 1962’, 2006, p. 113. 92 B.R. Deepak, India & China, 1904–2004: A Century of Peace and Conflict, New Delhi: Manak Publications, 2005, p. 177. 93 Garver, ‘China’s Decision for War with India in 1962’, 2006, pp. 117–120. 94 Raman, The Kaoboys of R&AW, 2013, pp. 29–30. 95 Steven Hoffman, ‘Anticipation, Disaster and Victory’, Asian Survey, Vol. 12, No. 11, 1972, p. 1963. 96 Garver, ‘China’s Decision for War with India in 1962’, 2006, p. 120. 97 ‘Telegram from the Embassy in Poland to the Department of State’, US Depart­ ment of State, Volume XXII, 1961–1963, 23 June 1962.

98 Sandhu, 1962, 2015, p. 34.

99 Garver, ‘China’s Decision for War with India in 1962’, 2006, p. 121.

100 Mahadevan, ‘Intelligence and the Sino-Indian War of 1962’, 2017, p. 69. 101 Interview with former Secretary (Research) N. Narasimhan, 8 November 2018. 102 Mirror-imaging is a condition in which our intelligence analysts try to complete the gaps in knowledge by assuming that the enemy would behave the same way as we would behave in the given situation. Richards J. Heuer Jr., ‘Psychology of Intelligence Analysis’, Center for the Study of Intelligence, 1999, p. 70, available at www.cia.gov/library/center-for-the-study-of-intelligence/csi-publications/ books-and-monographs/psychology-of-intelligence-analysis/PsychofIntelNew. pdf, accessed on 1 April 2019. 103 Frank Dikötter, Mao’s Great Famine: The History of China’s Most Devastating Cata­ strophe, 1958–62, London: Bloomsbury, 2010, p. 45. 104 Sherman Kent, ‘Words of Estimative Probability’, Studies in Intelligence, 1964, available at www.cia.gov/library/center-for-the-study-of-intelligence/csi-publica tions/books-and-monographs/sherman-kent-and-the-board-of-national-estima tes-collected-essays/6words.html, accessed on 1 April 2019. 105 Mullik, The Chinese Betrayal, 1972, p. 345. 106 Brian W. Greene, ‘Rethinking Strategic Surprise’, Centre for Operational Research and Analysis: Strategic Analysis Section, 2010, p. 8. 107 Interview with Lieutenant General (Retd) Somanna, 24 January 2019.; For Nehru’s thoughts on China’s threat to India around that time, see ‘The Indian Mission at Lhasa, Nehru’s Note to Secretary General, Ministry of External Affairs’, 9 July 1949, SWJN, 2(12), p. 410. 108 Sinha and Aithale, History of the Conflict with China 1962, 1992, p. 35. 109 Maxwell, India’s China War, 1970, p. 130. 110 B.M. Kaul, The Untold Story, Bombay: Allied Publications, 1967, p. 281. 111 ‘Defence Policy and National Development’, 3 February 1947, SWJN, 2(2), p. 364. 112 K Subrahmanyam, Perspectives in Defence Planning, New Delhi: Abhinav Publica­ tions, 1972, p. 55. 113 ‘Defence Policy and National Development’, 3 February 1947, SWJN, 2(2), p. 364.; Verma, 1962, 2016, p. 13. 114 ‘Minutes of Talks with Mao Tse-tung’, 23 October 1954, SWJN, 2(27), pp. 38–39. 115 Mullik, The Chinese Betrayal, 1972, pp. 153–154. 116 Thurston and Thondup, The Noodle Maker of Kalimpong, 2016, p. 151. 117 A.P. Venkateswaran, ‘Oral History Record of Ambassador A.P. Venkateswaran Interview conducted by Ambassador Kisan S. Rana’, Indian Council of World Affairs, 2015, available at https://icwa.in/pdfs/OHPAPVenkateswaran2013.pdf, accessed on 1 April 2019.

158 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises 118 119 120 121 122 123 124

125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139

140 141 142

143 144 145

146

Mehta, In Different Worlds, 1985, pp. 151–152. Y.D. Gundevia, Outside the Archives, Bombay: Sangam Books, 1984, p. 199. Palit, War in High Himalaya, 1991, p. 163. Mehta, In Different Worlds, 1985, p. 168. Wignall, Spy on the Roof of the World, 2000, p. 252. Khanduri, Thimayya, 2006, p. 221. Emily O. Goldman and Michael Warner, ‘Why a Digital Pearl Harbor makes Sense… and is Possible’, in George Perkovich and Ariel E. Levite, Understanding Cyber Conflict: 14 Analogies, Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 2017, p. 149. Khanduri, Thimayya, 2006, pp. 235–236. Ibid, p. 255. HBR, 1963, p. 38. HBR, 1963, pp. 15–16. Ibid, p. 53. Sinha and Aithale, History of the Conflict with China 1962, 1992, p. 96. HBR, 1963, p. 61. Ibid, p. 65. Dalvi, The Himalayan Blunder, 2010, pp. 285–286. Ibid. Ibid, pp. 292–296. Hoffman, ‘Anticipation, Disaster and Victory’, 1972, p. 966. Interview with Major General (Retd) Ashok Mehta, 30 October 2018. ‘Sino-Indian Hostilities’, COS (62) 73rd Meeting, DEFE 4/149, UK Joint Intel­ ligence Committee, 19 November 1962, UKNA. There was also an aspect of intelligence failure in the IB’s estimate of the PLAAF’s capabilities and the interpretations of it. However, the fact that the IAF’s leader­ ship readily accepted the IB’s estimate without questioning (especially given the fact that the IB’s military analysis capability was abysmal) is reason to conclude this aspect also as a policy failure. Verma, 1962, 2016, pp. 381–384. Palit, War in High Himalaya, 1991, pp. 304–335. For a comprehensive account of this particular incident as well as the failure of the Army’s strategic leadership in the defence of the East, see the chapters ‘When Generals Fail’ and ‘Fortress Se-La’ in Verma, 1962, 2016, pp. 189–212, 247–272. ‘Indian Prime Minister Nehru’s Letter to JFK on the Sino-Indian War – 11/19/ 1962’, History in Pieces, 19 November 1962, available at https://historyinpieces. com/documents/documents/nehru-letter-jfk-sino-indian-war-2, accessed on 3 April 2019. Arjun Subramaniam, India’s Wars: A Military History 1947–1971, Noida: Harper Collins, 2016, p. 232. Mullik, The Chinese Betrayal, 1972, p. 293. The Chinese Consul-General at Calcutta had organised a dinner at his residence for the local communist party members. There, he conveyed to the communist leaders that China would respond with force in Aksai Chin if India did not reverse the Forward Policy and directed the guests to simultaneously carry out acts of sabotage. Among the guests was an IB informer who reported the conversations to his handler. K. Subrahmanyam, Shedding Shibboleths: India’s Evolving Strategic Outlook, New Delhi: Wordsmith, 2005, p. 32.; Mahadevan, ‘Intelligence and the Sino-Indian War of 1962’, 2017, p. 19. ‘The Sino-Indian Border Dispute’, Central Intelligence Agency, 19 August 1963, available at www.cia.gov/library/readingroom/docs/polo-08.pdf, accessed on 3 April 2019.; Graver, China’s Decision for War with India in 1962’, 2006, pp. 118–119.

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147 Abraham Ben-Zvi, ‘Hindsight and Foresight: A Conceptual Framework for the Analysis of Surprise Attacks’, World Politics, Vol. 28, No. 3, 1976, p. 391. 148 Mahadevan, ‘Intelligence and the Sino-Indian War of 1962’, 2017, p. 66. 149 Som Dutt, ‘Chinese Political and Military Thinking on Guerrilla Warfare’, USI Journal, July-September 1962, p. 228. 150 Quoted in Verma, 1962, 2016, pp. 256–257.

References Andrew, Christopher and Vasili Mitrokhin, The Mitrokhin Archive II: The KGB and the Wider World, London: Penguin, 2006. Arpi, Claude, ‘Where is the Indian Trade Agency?’, 1 December 2018, available at http://claudearpi.blogspot.com/2018/12/where-indian-trade-agency.html, accessed on 3 March 2019. Ben-Zvi, Abraham, ‘Hindsight and Foresight: A Conceptual Framework for the Analysis of Surprise Attacks’, World Politics, Vol. 28, No. 3, 1976. Bhaumik, Subir, Insurgent Crossfire: North-east India, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 1996. Commonwealth Relations Office, ‘Krishna Menon - Report from Sir Alexander Clut­ terback’, KV 2/2514, 1954, UKNA. Central Intelligence Agency, ‘The Sino-Indian Border Dispute’, 19 August 1963, available at www.cia.gov/library/readingroom/docs/polo-08.pdf, accessed on 3 April 2019. Chowdhary, R.S., A Short History of the Intelligence Corps, Pune: Military Intelligence Training School, 1985. Commonwealth Relations Office, ‘Indian Double Standards’, DO 196/126, 1961, UKNA. Dave, A.K., The Real Story of China’s War on India, 1962, New Delhi: United Services Institute of India, 2006. Deepak, B.R., India & China, 1904–2004: A Century of Peace and Conflict, New Delhi: Manak Publications, 2005. Defence Department, ‘Appointment of Lecturer Chinese in Armed Forces Academy’, Repository-II, File No. DEFENCE/B/1950/JUL/7426/7440, 1950, NAI, pp. 1–39. Dikötter, Frank, Mao’s Great Famine: The History of China’s Most Devastating Catastrophe, 1958–62, London: Bloomsbury, 2010. Dunham, Mikel, Buddha’s Warriors: The Story of the CIA-backed Tibetan Freedom Fighters, the Chinese Invasion, and the Ultimate Fall of Tibet, New Delhi: Penguin Books, 2005. Dutt, Som, ‘Chinese Political and Military Thinking on Guerrilla Warfare’, USI Journal, July-September 1962. Garver, John, ‘China’s Decision for War with India in 1962’, in A.I. Johnston and R.S. Ross, New Directions in the Study of China’s Foreign Policy, California: Stanford Uni­ versity Press, 2006. Goldman, Emily O. and Michael Warner, ‘Why a Digital Pearl Harbor makes Sense… and is Possible’, in George Perkovich and Ariel E. Levite, Understanding Cyber Con­ flict: 14 Analogies, Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 2017, p. 149. Gopal, Sarvepalli, ‘Defence Policy and National Development’, 3 February 1947, Selec­ ted Works of Jawarharlal Nehru, 2(2), p. 364. Gopal, Sarvepalli, ‘Cable to K.M. Panikkar’, 27 October1950, Selected Works of Jawar­ harlal Nehru, 2(15–2), p. 333. Gopal, Sarvepalli, ‘Nehru to B.C. Roy’, 16November 1950, Selected Works of Jawarharlal Nehru, 2(15–1), p. 342.

160 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Gopal, Sarvepalli, ‘Minutes of Talks with Mao Tse-tung’, 23October 1954, Selected Works of Jawarharlal Nehru, 2(27), pp. 38–39. Gopal, Sarvepalli, ‘Nehru to Foreign Secretary’, 30 October1957, Selected Works of Jawarharlal Nehru, 2(39), p. 303. Greene, Brian W., ‘Rethinking Strategic Surprise’, Centre for Operational Research and Analysis: Strategic Analysis Section, 2010. Gundevia, Y.D., Outside the Archives, Bombay: Sangam Books, 1984. Guyot-Réchard, B., Shadow States: India, China and the Himalayas, 1910–1962, Cam­ bridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016. ‘Henderson Brooks-Bhagat Report’, partly released 1963, available at www.indiande fencereview.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/TopSecretdocuments2.pdf, accessed 1 April 2019. Hoffman, Steven A., ‘Anticipation, Disaster and Victory’, Asian Survey, Vol. 12, No. 11, 1972. Hoffman, Steven A., ‘Rethinking the Linkage between Tibet and the China-Indian Border Conflict: A Realist Approach’, Journal of Cold War Studies, Vol. 8, No. 3, 2006. Home Department, ‘DIB’s Report on Mr V.K Krishna Menon’, File No. DIB DO 2/ 49, 1949, NAI. Heuer Jr., Richards J., ‘Psychology of Intelligence Analysis’, Center for the Study of Intel­ ligence, 1999, p. 70, available at www.cia.gov/library/center-for-the-study-of-intelli gence/csi-publications/books-and-monographs/psychology-of-intelligence-analysis/Psy chofIntelNew.pdf, accessed on 1 April 2019. Indian Trade Agency, ‘Dairy of Indian Trade Agent during 1959’, File No. 9(12)WT/ 57, 1959, NAI. ‘Indian Prime Minister Nehru’s Letter to JFK on the Sino-Indian War – 11/19/1962’, History in Pieces, 19 November 1962, available at https://historyinpieces.com/docum ents/documents/nehru-letter-jfk-sino-indian-war-2, accessed on 3 April 2019. Kaul, B.M., The Untold Story, Bombay: Allied Publications, 1967, p. 281. Kent, Sherman, ‘Words of Estimative Probability’, Studies in Intelligence, 1964, available at www.cia.gov/library/center-for-the-study-of-intelligence/csi-publications/books-a nd-monographs/sherman-kent-and-the-board-of-national-estimates-collected-essays/ 6words.html, accessed on 1 April 2019. Khanduri, Chandra B., Thimayya: An Amazing Life, New Delhi: KW Publishers, 2006. Kenneth Knaus, John, Orphans of the Cold War: America and the Tibetan Struggle for Sur­ vival, New York: Public Affairs, 1999. Kulkarni, R.N., Sin of National Conscience, Mysore: Kritagnya Publications, 2004. Kunal Verma, Shiv, 1962: The War that Wasn’t, New Delhi: Aleph Book Company, 2016. Mahadevan, Prem, ‘Intelligence and the Sino-Indian War of 1962’ in Floribert Baudet, Eleni Braat, Jeoffrey van Woensel and Aad Wever, Perspectives on Military Intelligence from the First World War to Mali, The Hague: T.M.C. Asser Press, 2017, p. 56. Mahadevan, Prem, ‘The Failure of Indian Intelligence in the Sino-Indian Conflict’, Journal of Intelligence History, Vol.8, No.1, 2008. Mankekar, D.R., The Guilty Men of 1962, Bombay: The Tulsi Shah Enterprise, 1968, p. 20. Mehta, K.L., In Different Worlds: From Haveli to Head Hunters of Tuensang, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 1985. ‘Memoranda received unofficially by Sardar Patel, presumably from Indian Military Officers, at the time of reconstruction of the armed forces on the eve of partition’, SPC (4), 1947, p. 559.

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Ministry of External Affairs, ‘Dr. Elwin notes on his visit to Bomdila and Tawang’, File No. 4(5)-NEFA/56, NAI. Ministry of External Affairs, ‘Personal Case of P.N. Kaul Consul General for India, Lhasa’, File No. S/3/L/61, 1961, NAI. Ministry of External Affairs, ‘Ghana-Visit of the Prime Minister of Ghana Dr. Kwame Nkrumah, to India’, File No. 19(45)-AFR, 1957, NAI. Ministry of External Affairs, ‘Copy of Secret Letter No. SA/446, dated Dec. 11/13, 1943 from the Director, Intelligence Bureau, Home Department, Government of India, to M. C. Gillett Esq, H.B.M.‘s Consul General at Kashgar’, File No. 391 C.A./44, NAI. Ministry of External Affairs, ‘Sino-Soviet Relations’, File No. 8(21)EUR(EE)60, NAI, 1960. Ministry of External Affairs, ‘The Indian Mission at Lhasa, Nehru’s Note to Secretary General’, 9 July 1949, Selected Works of Jawarharlal Nehru, 2(12), p. 410. Mullik, B.N., My Years with Nehru: The Chinese Betrayal, Bombay: Allied Publishers, 1972. ‘News reports from Indian Trade Agent, Yatung’, Political Affairs, File No: 4(1)-P/57, 1957, NAI.; ‘Annual General Report of Indian Trade Agent’, Political Affairs, File No: 9-WT/58, 1958, NAI. Palit, D.K., War in High Himalaya: The Indian Army in Crisis, 1962, London: Hurst Publishers, 1991. Prados, John, Safe for Democracy: The Secret Wars of the CIA, Chicago: Ivan R. Dee Publishers, 2006. Raghavan, Srinath, War and Peace in Modern India, Ranikhet: Permanent Black, 2010. Raman, B., ‘Leh: Those Magnificent Kaoboys on Mule-Back down the Memory Lane’, South Asia Analysis Group, 28 April 2013, available at www.southasiaanalysis.org/ node/1255, accessed on 27 April 2019. Raman, B., The Kaoboys of R&AW: Down Memory Lane, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 2013. Ramesh, Jairam, Intertwined Lives, London: Simon and Schuster, 2018. Riedel, Bruce, ‘JFK’s Forgotten Crisis: Tibet, the CIA, and Sino-Indian War’, Interna­ tional Spy Museum, 12 January 2016, available at https://podtail.com/en/podcast/sp ycast/author-debriefing-jfk-s-forgotten-crisis-tibe, accessed on 21 March 2019. Sandhu, P.J.S., 1962: A View from the Other Side of the Hill, New Delhi: Vij Books India Pvt Ltd, 2015. Sardar Patel Private Papers, ‘Nehru’s Letter to Patel’, File No. 2/301, 1949, NAI. Shakya, Tsering, Dragon in The Land of Snows: The History of Modern Tibet since 1947, New York: Penguin, 1999. Shourie, Arun, Self-Deception: India’s China Policies Origins, Premises, Lessons, London: Harper Collins, 2013. Sinha, P.B. and A.A. Aithale, History of the Conflict with China 1962, New Delhi: History Division, Ministry of Defence, Government of India, 1992. Srinivasan, Rajeev, ‘What If India Had Won The 1962 War Against China?’, Outlook, 23 August 2004, available at www.outlookindia.com/magazine/story/what-if-india -had-won-the-1962-war-against-china/224864, accessed on 23 March 2019. Subramaniam, Arjun, India’s Wars: A Military History 1947–1971, Noida: Harper Col­ lins, 2016. Subrahmanyam, K., Perspectives in Defence Planning, New Delhi: Abhinav Publications, 1972. Subrahmanyam, K., ‘Nehru and the India-China Conflict of 1962’ in B.R. Nanda, Indian Foreign Policy: The Nehru Years, Delhi: Vikas Publishing House, 1976, p. 125.

162 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Subrahmanyam, K. Shedding Shibboleths: India’s Evolving Strategic Outlook, New Delhi: Wordsmith, 2005. Thurston, Anne F. and Gyalo Thondup, The Noodle Maker of Kalimpong: The Untold Story of My Struggle for Tibet, Gurgaon: Random House India, 2016. T.T. Krishnamachari Papers, ‘Speaking Brief for the Chief of the Defence Staff’, Subject File No. 27, 1963. UK Joint Intelligence Committee, ‘Sino-Indian Hostilities’, COS (62) 73rd Meeting, DEFE 4/149, 19 November 1962, UKNA. US Department of State, ‘Policy of the United States with respect to Pakistan’, 3 April 1950, available at https://history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/frus1950v05/d837, accessed on 22 April 2019. US Department of State, ‘Telegram from the Embassy in India to the Department of State’, Vol. XIX, 1958–1960, 16 November 1960. US Department of State, ‘Telegram from the Embassy in Poland to the Department of State’, Volume XXII, 1961–1963, 23 June 1962. Venkateswaran, A.P., ‘Oral History Record of Ambassador A.P. Venkateswaran Interview conducted by Ambassador Kisan S. Rana’, Indian Council of World Affairs, 2015, available at https://icwa.in/pdfs/OHPAPVenkateswaran2013.pdf, accessed on 1 April 2019. Walton, Calder, Empire of Secrets: British Intelligence, the Cold War and the Twilight of Empire, New York: The Overlook Press, 2014. Wignall, Sydney, Spy on the Roof of the World, Edinburgh: Canongate, 2000.

6

Indian Intelligence and the 1971 Indo-Pak War The Epic of a Successful Detection and Counter-Surprise

Introduction It was the night of 3 December 1971 when the Air Raid Precautions sirens in New Delhi had begun wailing. Between 1740 and 1745 hours the Pakistani Air Force (PAF) had simultaneously struck the Indian air bases at Amritsar, Srinagar, Avantipur, and Pathankot. From 21 November India and Pakistan were engaged in an undeclared war over the fate of Bangladesh – then known as East Pakistan. India would not escalate, particularly because it was keen on not projecting itself as the aggressor. Just three weeks earlier, the British assessment from Dhaka had recorded that: “Indian troops will NOT (repeat NOT) participate in forthcoming attacks, as India [is] anxious to avoid blame for initiating war. If, of course Pakistan forces carry [the] fight across [the] border into Indian territory, then [the] story may well be different”.1 On 3 December Pakistan’s President Yahya Khan gave the green signal for Operation Chengiz Khan, which sought to conduct a 1967 Israeli-style pre­ emptive strike to disorient the Indians and achieve quick victory.2 Little did Yahya know that the Indians were eagerly waiting for the attack, which would grant them more relief than horror. India’s Prime Minister Indira Gandhi was informed of the upcoming air strikes by the Research and Analysis Wing (R&AW) – India’s newly created foreign intelligence agency.3 New Delhi’s plan was to utilise the air strikes as an official declaration of the 1971 Indo-Pak war. Indira was on a plane when the pilot informed her about the attacks. D.P. Dhar, one of the architects of the Bangladesh Liberation War, who was accompanying her remarked, “the fool has done exactly what one had expected”.4 Thus, the war broke out; and, on 16 December, the 13 days war concluded with Pakistan’s Lieutenant General A.A.K. Niazi surrendering to Lieutenant General Jagjit Singh Aurora. With 93,000 Pakistani prisoners of war, India became the first country to use force to create a nation.5 The 1971 war is one of the rare instances of intelligence successes that has received little examination by intelligence scholars. After the humiliating DOI: 10.4324/9781003296195-10

164 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises surprises and defeat in 1962, how did the Indian intelligence succeed in uncovering the enemy designs during 1971? Also, considering the spectacular outcome of the war, how did strategic intelligence assist in India’s military policy and planning? Probing these questions, this chapter traces the organisational changes to the intelligence bureaucracy in the post-1962 era and examines their impact on estimating the enemy’s capabilities and intentions. It also presents a narrative on India’s conduct of covert operations in support of military planning. Finally, it establishes that the 1971 war is a combination of both intelligence and policy successes.

Background Prior to the birth of Bangladesh, Pakistan was divided into West and East Pakistan by the Indian landmass in between (see Figure 6.1). The geographical

Figure 6.1 West Pakistan and East Pakistan (Bangladesh) divided by India Source: Author

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divide was matched by an equally distant cultural and political divide, which was disproportionately favouring the West Pakistanis. Purely in economic terms, the resources for development were sourced from the Bengali speaking East while the Urdu speaking West reaped the benefits of the produce.6 The fag end of 1970 is particularly crucial in Pakistan’s modern politics, since the mishandling of a flood situation in East Pakistan by Islamabad and the dilution of electoral results caused the alienation of the Bengalis. The Awami League led by Sheikh Mujibur Rehman, predominantly present in East Pakistan, acquired a clear majority, but was denied the right to form a government. The electoral results were a shock to Yahya Khan, who was misinformed by the Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) and the Pakistani Intelligence Bureau that a Ben­ gali success was impossible.7 Deliberate procrastination in convening the National Assembly further angered the Bengalis who launched a massive protest on 1 March 1971. When the ensuing political negotiations hit a dead-end, Yahya launched Operation Searchlight to crackdown the protesters. Since the Bengali soldiers and officers of the East Pakistan Rifles (EPR) and East Bengal Regiment (EBR) refused to engage the protesters, troops from West Pakistan were deployed to curb the protests. The result was a massive exodus of people to neighbouring India, causing a huge political, economic, and law and order problem.8 [Insert Figure 5.1here NB: the reason this is 5.1 is because the figure 5.1 and 6.1 files supplied were mistakenly transposed] The refugee crisis was enormous, and India was left alone in tackling this complex problem. By April public and parliamentary pressure was increasing, and Indira Gandhi had begun contemplating a military solution. The Chief of Army Staff, General Sam Manekshaw, offered the Prime Minister a professional assess­ ment of the military preparedness and concluded that no action was possible before six months.9 Between April and December, the Indian government was constantly updated about Pakistan’s intentions and capabilities by its intelligence services. On the basis of intelligence inputs, the Indian Armed Forces prepared and conducted the war with precision. The intelligence groundwork for the liberation of Bangladesh had, however, earnestly begun in 1968, which will be explored in detail in this chapter. The international political climate also played a critical factor during the crisis period. Like the Cuban missile crisis had unforeseen consequences for India in 1962, the changing geopolitical equation in South Asia emerging out of the Sino-Soviet split and the US’ covert policy of rapprochement with China was bearing unpredictable consequences in 1971. The fact that Yahya was the chosen conduit by President Richard Nixon and National Security Advisor Henry Kissinger to approach Mao’s China had put India in an uncomfortable position. From his secret trip to Beijing in July 1971, Kissinger concluded that Washington’s protection of Pakistan in the ongoing crisis with India was Beij­ ing’s test of American commitment to an ally.10 Premier Zhou Enlai had termed India’s action in East Pakistan as subversion and concluded his meeting with Kissinger by saying “if India commits aggression, we will support Pakistan. You are also against that”.11 Consequently, India was completely isolated and

166 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises the only superpower that could have played a decisive role in tackling the world’s greatest humanitarian crisis was now on the side of the perpetrators. In the event, the Soviet Union became India’s newfound friend. On 8 August 1971 New Delhi signed the Indo-Soviet Treaty of Friendship and Co-operation, which had a significant impact on India’s intelligence collection and war preparation. The combined strengths of the Indian intelligence bureaucracies and the Soviet intelligence assistance became the bedrock of India’s military policy planning during the 1971 war. To understand how the Indian intelligence and security services revived their reputation after the humiliating defeat of 1962, let's first begin by examining the organisational reforms that occurred in the Indian intelligence following the 1962 debacle.

The 1962 Fiasco and the Birth of the Directorate General of Security Although the 1962 war is perceived as a national humiliation in India, a posi­ tive outcome of the event was the shunning of Nehruvian aversion to intelli­ gence and covert operations. Even as the Indian Army was bearing the brunt of the second offensive in November 1962, Nehru realised that his pacifist approaches to security had borne disastrous consequences. On 17 November, following a breakfast meeting, he decided that the border populace had to be trained to resist the Chinese. Accordingly, an order was passed to establish an agency for this purpose.12 B.N. Mullik, the Director of Intelligence Bureau (DIB), was given a carte blanche to accomplish this task, and thus, was born the Directorate General of Security (DGS). By September 1963, the DGS with all its secret agencies – the Special Service Bureau (SSB), Special Frontier Force (SFF) and the Aviation Research Centre (ARC) – and the Indo-Tibetan Border Police were formed. While the role of these agencies in the 1971 war will be explored, it is important to point out here that Mullik had achieved in nine months what he could not accomplish in the previous 12 years, owing to Nehru’s aversion to covert means. The first organisation to emerge out of Mullik’s efforts was the SFF, aka Estab­ lishment-22.13 A fifty-one years old artillery officer, General Sujan Singh Uban, renowned for his unorthodox tactics, was contracted to train the Tibetan refugees in guerrilla warfare. The conversion of refugees into warriors was a joint programme of the IB and the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA). In this regard, the 1962 war heralded a new opportunity in Indo-American intelligence co-operation and this joint venture was its immediate reflection. The programme was divided into two separate projects. The first project entailed the training of the Tibetan commandos in the serene hill villages of Chakrata under the leadership of General Uban. The CIA offered only financial and instructional support. These guerrillas emerged as excellent parachutists who could conduct jumps at altitudes up to 15,400 feet. They were to operate behind enemy lines and conduct intelligence and sabotage operations. The second project was aimed at serving American interests more than Indian, which was to establish a Tibetan resistance network

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inside Tibet. Here, the guerrillas were trained in Colorado while India provided only limited assistance in infiltration into Tibet.14 Later, the SFF was further aug­ mented with the inclusion of 500 Gurkhas in a sub-unit known as ‘G-Group’.15 Gradually, however, as the Indo-U.S. relations plummeted, the Soviet KGB replaced the CIA in training the SFF commandos.16 The other agency to emerge as India’s first line of defence against the Chi­ nese was the SSB. Mullik worked out a plan with the help of political leaders Y.B. Chavan and Biju Patnaik.17 The latter assisted Mullik in overcoming other ministerial – especially the Ministries of Defence and Finance – obstacles in establishing the agency. Finally, nine officers from various services were selected to train with the British Special Air Service (SAS) at the training institute established at Mahabaleshwar, a hill station in the Western Ghats.18 The SSB had both a winning hearts and minds (WHAM) as well as a para­ military component. The paramilitary units received training in map reading, rescue operations, weapons and explosives training and intelligence missions from their British trainers.19 The SSB began to play an important role in uniting and training the border populace as India’s first line of defence. While their WHAM component worked towards integrating and unifying the warring tribes, the paramilitary training turned them into valuable intelligence assets. Being local dwellers, they understood and navigated the terrain better than outsiders posted on intelligence duties. To illustrate, those were the days when the threat of a Chinese intrusion into India were still looming large. The Military Intelligence had received alarming reports about the presence of Chinese tents on the Indian side. The topographical and operational difficulties required that confirmation of this input be procured clandestinely. Quite amazingly, grasping the urgency of the operation, the SSB accounts officer, who was also trained in the Officer’s General Course, secretly trekked to the spot, photographed the landscape, and revealed that what appeared as tents were only dried up bamboo groves.20 Such secret and daring missions could be performed in effect only by converting the locals into operatives rather than training outsiders. In order to secretly airdrop the SFF commandos into Tibet, the ARC was cre­ ated with the help of the Americans. The ARC owes its birth in large part to the efforts of Patnaik and Mullik. Patnaik had trained as a pilot with the Royal Air Force during World War II. Post-independence, he had founded the Kalinga Airways that played a vital role in the Indonesian freedom struggle.21 Patnaik negotiated with Washington while Mullik built the manpower for the ARC, drawing personnel and aircrew from the IB and the Indian Air Force (IAF). The agency was headed by an IB officer named Rameshwar Nath Kao. Although established for clandestine airdrop purposes, by 1964, the ARC began to be equipped for aerial photography, monitoring of ground signals and electro­ magnetic emissions.22 The ELINT aircrafts played an instrumental role in collect­ ing Chinese radar signals for translation and analysis. By 1965, however, bilateral relations were souring, and Washington kept delaying the supply of equipment to the ARC. In the event, Moscow became the ARC’s new partner.23

168 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Thus, it is arguable that the 1962 debacle provided the necessary impetus for a major overhaul of India’s border security and intelligence. None­ theless, foreign intelligence was still part of the IB, which largely comprised of anti-communist and internal security expertise. The 1965 Indo-Pak war brought the nation’s attention to the need for a dedicated foreign intelli­ gence service. An in-house review of the 1965 surprise conducted by the IB concluded that an information abundance was squandered by inadequate interpretation.24 A parallel review conducted by Brigadier Batra of the Military Intelligence, directed by Defence Minister Y.B. Chavan (later Home Minister), established the need for a dedicated foreign intelligence agency. Yet, no action was taken and the 1967 border incidents with China reiterated this need. Consequently, in 1968, under the orders of Indira Gandhi, the R&AW was created.

The Birth of the Research and Analysis Wing (R&AW) and Restructuring of India’s National Security Mechanism Indira Gandhi was diametrically opposed to Nehru in her approach to national security. Her ideas and approaches to security and foreign policies have been dubbed as the “Indira Doctrine”, borrowing from the tenets of “Monroe Doctrine” that establishes security by means of extending influence in the immediate neighbour­ hood.25 The 1971 war itself is observed as an outcome of this doctrine. What is noteworthy here is that, the doctrinal transformation of India’s national security also led to a comprehensive reform in national security institutions, of which the birth of the R&AW was one.26 During the Nehru era, Mullik lacked political support whereas in 1968, Mullik’s subordinate R.N. Kao, who was tasked with the creation of the R&AW, enjoyed significant political support. Resistance to Kao, however, came from the IB itself which did not appreciate the idea of an independent foreign intelligence agency. The external intelligence desk within the IB became the newly created R&AW, while the IB became purely an internal security and counter­ intelligence organisation. M.M.L. Hooja, who was close to Mullik, had been elevated as the DIB in 1968 when the decision to create the R&AW was taken. Hooja offered a stiff opposition to the idea but was overruled by Indira.27 The separation of the R&AW was, thus, marked by bureaucratic bit­ terness. An SSB officer recollected that: “at first, there was no office space. Kao sent the officers on a 15 days holiday to go on a countryside tour [frontier regions] and understand the security aspects”.28 Meanwhile Kao worked on building the R&AW from scratch; in the interim the responsibility of collecting foreign intelligence was entrusted on the SSB. The nature of the organisational reforms that ensued under Kao’s leadership is critical to understand the success of 1971.

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Despite deciding to create a dedicated foreign intelligence service, Indira was unclear about what role this new agency would have in policymaking and how would it achieve its objectives. Without offering a charter of duties and imposing watertight functional jurisdictions, Indira created the agency with merely an executive order. According to a former senior R&AW officer: “[Indira’s] objectives for the R&AW were to ensure that India should be able to develop and sustain dominance in the region, recognise threats and challenges that originate from across the borders in all formats, develop response systems to negate such threats even before they mature, and, to this end, maintain influence in the capitals of neighbouring countries”.29 It is clear from this description that Indira envisaged both intelligence and operational roles for the new organisation. To achieve this overall objective of strategic intelligence production and covert action, the DGS was transferred to the R&AW. Like Mullik in 1962, Kao was also given a carte blanche, except for two conditions. First, Indira insisted that the new agency must comprise multi-disciplinary expertise, contrary to the police monopoly that had engulfed the IB. Second, the top two positions of the organisation were to be filled at the Prime Minister’s discretion, from within the organisation or from outside.30 With these two conditions, it was for Kao to use his skills to raise the R&AW. In 1968 Kao was a Deputy Director in the IB with significant exposure to foreign intelligence work. He had liaised with the Chinese intelligence in investigating the air crash that allegedly was meant to kill Premier Zhou. As Director ARC, he had also co-operated with the CIA. Along with his collea­ gue Sankaran Nair, an expert on Pakistan who would be his deputy in the R&AW, Kao had also assisted the creation of the Ghanaian intelligence ser­ vices.31 In addition to foreign exposure, two other factors helped Kao. First, until 1975, he enjoyed complete trust of the Prime Minister by virtue of being a Kashmiri Brahmin and his wife being well connected with the Nehru family.32 Second, Indira’s other advisors – P.N. Haksar being the most important – were equally enthusiastic about establishing the R&AW. The foremost challenge in setting up the organisation was its structural pla­ cement. The Ministry of External Affairs (MEA) was anxious about the role of the new agency. The Indian Army also nurtured a strong desire to subsume the R&AW while the Ministry of Home Affairs (MHA), mostly concerned with internal security, could not find the new agency under its ambit. Thus, at inception, the agency found itself in an awkward position. Subsequently, on advice from Haksar, it was decided to place it within the Cabinet Secretariat (see Figure 6.2) and the chief was designated as Secretary (R).33 A committee of officials from the MHA and the Department of Personnel were tasked to build the corps of the agency. The laid down criteria for recruitment included knowledge of foreign languages, international exposure either through education or profession, and good articulation skills.34 An officer who served on the selection board of the R&AW observed that the early

170 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Prime Minister

Cabinet Secretariat

Home Minister

Intelligence Bureau

Research and Analysis Wing (R&AW)

Joint Intelligence Committee

Directorate General of Security - SSB, SFF, ARC

Figure 6.2 Structure of the Indian civilian intelligence after the 1968 reforms Source: Author

recruits were drawn on the patterns of the CIA and the MI6.35 Universities had become ideal locations for recruiters to deliver talks and motivate potential candidates. The new recruits were trained, apart from languages, in guerrilla warfare courses, explosives handling, driving techniques and counterintelligence operations.36 Kao had adopted the CIA as a model for emulation and divided the R&AW into analytical and operational desks.37 However, officers usually served in both the desks to formally acquaint each other with the analytical demands and operational limitations.38 In addition, the agency established safe houses and special bureaus across India’s cities that aided recruitment. Contrary to the misperception that these were centres for domestic political espionage, they were meant to target wealthy businessmen, intellectuals and scientists, for both intelligence collec­ tion and counterintelligence purposes. These “intelligencers” were a small group of elite Indians, privileged with international visits, that made them a prime target for both Indian and foreign intelligence agencies.39 In addition, Kao was particularly enthusiastic about providing the agency a TECHINT capability since it was under his supervision, along with the support of G.K. Handoo, that the 1950s IB had created a “cryptography branch” (C-Branch). The two officers had personally recruited a pool of mathematicians to occupy the C-Branch. The C-Branch had been instrumental in estimating the enemy ORBAT and decoding intercepted messages.40 When the R&AW was formed, Kao established a Science and Technology Division (S&T) with K. Santhanam from the Indian Atomic Energy Commission as its head. This division became crucial in analysing the pieces of TECHINT collected by the R&AW’s Monitoring Division.41Thus, with individuals from all walks of life becoming part of the foreign intelligence process, the diversity that Indira wished for had been accomplished.

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There were, however, issues of contention between the intelligence and other bureaucracies that needed to be addressed. One early issue that Kao had identified was the lack of sufficient representation from the armed forces in the strategic intelligence process. He fixed this flaw by creating a Military Intelligence Liaison Cell within the R&AW headquarters, headed by a Major General and assisted by three Brigadiers. This cell was conceived to fix targets and priorities, train the R&AW analysts with specific military knowledge, and share a mutual understanding of the use and limits of strategic intelligence.42 Similarly, to establish a good working relationship with the MEA, which would be the first to receive flak if R&AW operatives got exposed, Kao suggested that an Indian Foreign Service Officer be appointed at the agency’s HQ to set priorities and convey to the MEA the agency’s operational con­ siderations. Kao wrote: “This is a very delicate task requiring a full understanding on the one hand of the expertise of foreign intelligence clandestine operations, and on the other, a fell for the political and diplomatic considerations which weigh with the [MEA]. The R&AW is now implementing several new operational plans which involve breaking of fresh ground abroad. In each such operation, it is necessary to examine carefully any danger of the exposure of the cover of the R&AW officers and of embarrassment to the [MEA]”.43 Therefore, to reiterate, by 1971, India was equipped with a dedicated foreign intelligence agency drawing personnel from across all walks of life. It also had a covert action component – the DGS – that was a few years older to it. With such organisational reforms, the agency set out to monitor the developments in East Pakistan. The assessments that the agency provided New Delhi became the foundation for India’s Pakistan policy from 1968 onwards.

R&AW’s Assessment of the East-Pakistani Crisis Immediately after its formation, the agency began to undertake measures to expand its collection and covert action capability in India’s neighbourhood. The impetus for this was provided by the R&AW’s own assessment of the threat to India’s territorial integrity from the growing Sino-Pak nexus. The nexus that had gained momentum after the 1962 war, had taken the shape of joint sponsorship of insurgencies and Maoist movements in India’s east and north-eastern region. As visible above (Figure 6.1), a narrow 21-kilometre strip – the Siliguri corri­ dor – connected heartland India with the northeast. The R&AW feared that the Sino-Pak support to insurgents in this region threatened delinking the corridor in the event of a war, leaving the entire northeast at the mercy of the enemy. Therefore, through the mid-1960s, Kao and Colonel Menon – the name by which Sankaran Nair was known to his intelligence sources – began to establish contacts with several sections of the Bengali politics and society in East-Pakistan.44

172 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Reflecting on the threat to India’s north-east and the opportunity presented by the crisis in East Pakistan, P.N. Banerjee, Joint Director of the R&AW, and a close aide of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, had briefed the agency’s field officers in Calcutta during August 1971 that: “either we take the opportunity afforded by the Bengali revolt and break up Pakistan, and in the bargain create a friendly, secular, pro-Indian state in the region. Or we miss this chance and allow the Chinese and Pakistanis to intervene in North-East India”.45 Taking note of the Sino-Pak threat to India’s territory, Banerjee had empha­ sised that: “the only way to get India out of this worst possible predicament, when, for the first time since independence, she faces a genuine threat to her territorial integrity, is to organise the guerrilla struggle in East Pakistan with zeal and carry it to our advantage”.46 Banerjee’s proclamations arose from a series of reports on monitoring the situation in East Pakistan. In 1969, two years before the crisis broke out, Kao had forewarned New Delhi that East Pakistan was bound to face a massive political turmoil and subsequent secession. The April 1969 forecast read: “the authorities would have to resort to large-scale use of the Army and other para-military forces in East Pakistan to curb a movement which has already gained considerable strength. The use of force is likely, in turn, to lead to a situation where the people of East Pakistan, supported by ele­ ments of the East Bengal Rifles (who are known to be sympathetic towards the secessionist movement as evidenced from the recent East Pakistan Conspiracy Case), may rise in revolt against the Central Authority and even declare their independence”.47 The East Pakistan Conspiracy, also known as the Agartala Conspiracy, involved the apprehension of certain Naval employees, police officers and political acti­ vists by Islamabad over allegations of attacks on a Pakistani military armoury. These Bengali rebels were tortured and one of the sailors was tried to be coerced into implicating Sheikh Mujibur Rahman as a secessionist.48 After this incident, Mujib briefly limited interactions with the Indian authorities. How­ ever, the R&AW continued to maintain contacts with other influential sections of the Bengali society and the April 1969 estimate reflects the impact of such connections. Besides predicting the future course of events in East-Pakistan, Kao’s advice to sieze the initiative and prepare to liberate Bangladesh is particularly important. As the political situation deteriorated in Pakistan, India’s options were confronted with two set of ideas. Led by the Nehruvian school of thought, the MEA

Indian Intelligence and the 1971 Indo-Pak War 173 advocated non-intervention while Kao, on the other hand, argued for preparing for the eventuality of an independent Bangladesh.49 In January 1971 Colonel Menon reported that a mass movement was in the offing. By early February Kao learnt of Mujib’s impatience with the political negotiations and reported that the latter was considering a popular struggle.50 In the following months, the situation in East Pakistan further deteriorated, leading to the refugee crisis in India. Kao spent the months of March and April trying to convince New Delhi that a lib­ eration war was the right course of action. Assessing the implications of the political turmoil in Pakistan, the R&AW reported that the situation: “would have considerable bearing on the question of the Pakistani threat to India during 1971… [as] a military confrontation with India or an infiltration campaign into J[ammu] & K[ashmir] is likely to result in diverting the attention of the people from the internal political problems and [acquiesce their support] for continuance of the military rule”.51 Kao also argued from the prism of the Chinese threat to India that: “the longer the liberation struggle takes to achieve success, greater are the chances of its control moving into the hands of the extremists and pro-China communists in Bangla Desh…Therefore, it would be in our interest to give aid, adequate and quick enough, to ensure early success of the liberation movement under the control and guidance of the Awami League”.52 Despite calling for proactive measures, the R&AW was acutely aware that the international conditions were not yet conducive for a military solution. In May the agency reported that the international public opinion still held that what was happening in “Bangla Desh is a matter of internal concern”.53 In the same report, the agency also drew the Prime Minister’s attention to Pakistan’s growing military capabilities because of Chinese assistance, and noted that the time was not yet ripe for a formal recognition of Bangladesh as neither the rebels were capable of sustaining an independent government within East Pakistani territory, nor was the Indian Army capable of undertaking a militaristic venture to achieve nationhood. Hence, for the time being, the agency suggested that India should do “whatever lies within [its] power to sustain the struggle”.54 Under such circumstances, the R&AW was made the nodal agency for liaising with the Awami leadership. Banerjee was the R&AW station chief in Calcutta and played a pivotal role in reporting on the interactions between Indian security forces and the Bengali rebels. The decision to militarily liberate Bangladesh was taken after a futile world tour by the Indian political and diplomatic leaders.55 The Indian Army had sought a six-month preparatory time. In the meantime, the R&AW and the DGS was made responsible for sustaining the liberation movement in East Pakistan with the help of the Indian Army and the Border Security Force (BSF). It was this covert action con­ ducted by the agency, alongside its reportage on Pakistan’s capabilities and

174 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises intentions closer to the war, that allowed the Indian Army to be prepared for the Pakistani attack on 3 December. The next section, thus, examines the role strategic intelligence played in support of military planning and policy.

Intelligence Decision-Making and Operations during the 1971 War The role of India’s intelligence bureaucracies in the 1971 war planning can be observed in three key areas. First, the role of intelligence in covert action. Second, in forewarning New Delhi about Pakistan’s military capabilities and intentions. Third, in providing operational and tactical support to the armed forces in areas that had strategic consequences. Role of Covert Action in Military Planning It is beyond the scope of this book to examine the entire conduct of covert operations prior to and during the war. This section only endeavours to outline some of details of covert operations that highlight the impact of organisational reforms and their consequences on the development of strategic intelligence for military policy and planning. The R&AW’s covert role can be explained under two broad umbrellas – diplomacy and guerrilla operations. On the diplomatic front, the agency was responsible for liaising with the Pakistan’s Bengali diplomats and civil servants to support the liberation movement.56 The Bengali diplomats and bureaucrats became a vital source of information for the agency. In some instances, the Bengali diplomats had handed over the top-secret cipher codes that the Pakistani Ambassadors used to communicate.57 Available evidence indicate that these dip­ lomatic intercepts allowed the R&AW to monitor the impact of its propaganda operations. Intercepted communications between the Pakistani Ministry of Information and National Affairs and its missions abroad convey a deep sense of frustration and annoyance within Islamabad owing to documentaries and musical concerts organised in the western cities having an “obvious anti-Pakistan slant”.58 Such intelligence coups notwithstanding, a greater source of military intelli­ gence – strategic, operational, and tactical – was the rebels sheltered in India. These became the fulcrum of the R&AW’s covert action, and it is this part of the war that needs greater emphasis as it also highlights that the war belonged to the Bengali rebels as much as it did to the Indian security forces. Indian documents of the era denote that the guerrilla warfare was planned in four phases, each setting out to achieve a set objective.59 The first phase was meant to be purely foundational in nature – establishment of intelligence net­ works and clandestine communication lines between the headquarters and the operational areas; formation of secret entry-exit routes, safe houses and cache sites; and the establishment of local resource hubs for support during opera­ tions. The second phase was titled “unbalancing and weakening the enemy”, which largely involved offensive counterintelligence and sabotage operations.

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Enemy informers and agents were liquidated, and the enemy’s communication, logistics and resource infrastructures were swiftly and systematically destroyed. In this phase, key railways, river lines and air bases were destroyed. The third phase witnessed the actual offensive launched by the guerrillas against the enemy forces with an intention to collapse the enemy government. This was to be perfectly timed when the enemy morale and striking capability was at its lowest owing to the constant harassment meted out in phase two. Here, the regular forces of the Indian Army were envisaged to play a supportive role. Finally, the last phase was termed the “consolidation and restoration” phase where the guerrilla force would be formally converted into a People’s Army under a legitimate government, and the non-desirous restored back to civil life. Therefore, as this document exposes, the covert action plan inherently had both intelligence and paramilitary dimensions. Given its dual functionality, the agencies involved were the R&AW and the DGS, the IB, the BSF and the three services of the Indian Armed Forces. Between them, the agencies shared the responsibility of recruitment and training the rebel forces called the “Mukti Bahini”, as well as running intel­ ligence and counterintelligence operations. All these operations were mana­ ged by the R&AW. The contributions of these agencies towards development of the intelligence picture of the enemy as well as sustaining India’s war efforts are as follows. The DGS, which was the operational wing of India’s intelligence, played a key role in the entire covert action project. The SSB, born as a ‘clandestine resistance force’, had spread across the sensitive areas bordering East Pakistan. A large number of village volunteers from the border areas were employed as spies, informants and observers – their knowledge of the terrain allowed evasion of arrests while easily crisscrossing the borders. The organisation had about 47 intelligence posts along the East Pakistan border.60 These posts collected vital tactical intelligence that came in handy for the armed forces when the war broke out in December. The intelligence posts and the wide network that the SSB had cast also helped apprehend over 300 Pakistani agents and informers, making it a key counterespionage and counter-sabotage organisation alongside the IB.61 At the operational level, the SSB was tasked to provide basic administrative support and instructors for “specialised training in advanced techniques of guerrilla warfare”. In two main centres, at Haflong and Debendranagar, the SSB trained a total of 5,290 guerrillas in the use of firearms and explosives; imparted field train­ ing in techniques of ambush, sabotage of critical military infrastructure; and also offered political motivation to sustain the morale of the fighters.62 At one point, the BSF wished to start an auxiliary unit and sought the SSB’s assistance. The latter promised to build it in a week and was promptly accomplished.63 Therefore, the SSB was running both an intelligence operation and a guerrilla campaign in sup­ port of the Indian Army’s war efforts. More interesting is the contribution of the SFF, which, as noted, comprised largely of Tibetans. The purpose of its creation was purely to secure India from China, in the event of a repeat of 1962. On a request from Indira Gandhi, the

176 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises SFF became the organisation that played a stellar role in tackling several border irritants that could have severely frustrated India’s war plans. In her letter to the SFF, Indira had written: “we cannot compel you to fight a war for us, but the fact is that General AAK Niazi is treating the people of East Pakistan very badly. India has to do something about it… It would be appreciated if you could help us fight the war for liberating the people of Bangladesh”.64 Following this request, orders came from the Central Tibetan Administration in Dharamsala that stated, “the Indian government is in a very critical situation… and our participation could help save a lot of Indian lives”.65 A former SFF operative named Dapon Ratuk Ngawang recounted that: “We were thoroughly trained in commando warfare to fight the Chinese; we were requested to use these skills to fight in the Bangladesh war. The Indian authorities had assured us that the Indian Army would fight with the Tibetans for the cause of Tibet. Their reasoning was that the Tibetan soldiers alone could not defeat the Chinese army. That’s why we decided to join the Bangladesh war. It was in the hope that the Indian Army will help us militarily one day to fight the Chinese”.66 Under the command of Inspector General Sujan Singh Uban, the SFF played an instrumental role in organising and training the Bengali rebels to operate behind enemy lines. In addition, the SFF itself conducted operations around the Chittagong Hill Tracks – bordering Myanmar and East Pakistan – organised in three columns. Operating alongside a section of the Mukti Bahini, the SFF was involved in commando raids and capture of Pakistani posts; most impactful being the blockade of the Arakan road to deny the enemies an escape route into Myanmar. The order for this blockade came from General Manekshaw and is considered as the conclusive move that led to the surrender of General Niazi.67 As victory was declared and the commandos came out in celebration, the locals as well as the Indian soldiers at Chittagong were stunned by their existence. It is reported that they were quickly ordered back into the shadows and, have ever since earned the title “The Phantoms of Chittagong”.68 The other important reason for employing the SFF was to maintain plausible deniability. Kao, having headed the ARC during the IB days, was acutely aware of the ways of covert operations. The advantage that Kao sought in employing the SFF was that a group of Tibetans, equipped with Bulgarian Kalashnikov and US-made carbines could easily hide an Indian role.69 Moreover, amidst the rising chaos, it could be safely assumed that Pakistan would be least bothered about hunting Tibetan translators and interrogators. Thus, the SFF offered an operational flexibility and effectiveness like no other organisation. With regards to the ARC, although nothing is known of its exact role, it is widely accepted that the agency played an important part in aerial photography

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and reconnaissance. Therefore, in toto, the DGS was central to the development of intelligence coverage of the frontier regions as well as training and operating the Bengali guerrillas. The IB contributed to the covert operations by conducting counterintelligence operations. Posing as refugees, a large contingent of Pakistani intelligence opera­ tives had entered India for subversion and sabotage operations. By August 1971 at least 400 trained agents were nabbed from the states of Assam and Meghalaya alone.70 The IB was already engaged in the region as the Naga and Meitei rebels in India’s Northeast were in contact with Pakistani handlers in East Pakistan.71 Therefore, both HUMINT and radio intercept capabilities of the IB, had already taken roots in the region. Closer to the war, the bureau was tasked with “intense internal security to prevent the subversive/sabotage elements from acting”.72 In addition, given the communal nature of the crackdown underway in East Pakistan, mostly targeting the Hindus, the IB was tasked with mon­ itoring communal groups in the eastern states.73 Certain influential individuals like Altaf Hussain Majumdar, a minister in Assam, were actively encouraging Muslim youth to join the Mujahid training camps run by Pakistan to counter the Mukti Bahini.74 Counterintelligence responsibilities also covered monitoring of other foreign intelligence services operating in the region. Calcutta, being the bastion of com­ munist movement in India, was the base for several Soviet and Chinese spies. Also, Bangladeshi politicians Maulana Bhasani and Khondaker Mushtoq Ahmed were in touch with the Chinese and American intelligence. The Indian intelligence had, to the best of its abilities, exploited the knowledge of the politicians’ acquaintanceship with the foreign services to India’s advantage.75 Thus, while the R&AW and the DGS trained the Mukti Bahini in intelligence and guerrilla tactics, the IB guaran­ teed internal security through counterintelligence operations. This then allowed the BSF and the Indian Armed Forces to focus on further strengthening the rebels’ fighting capabilities. The core of the Mukti Bahini’s fighting force was developed by the BSF and the Indian Armed Forces. Initially the BSF was tasked with training and equipping the fighters. A gruesome war ensued between the Mukti Bahini and the Pakistani Razakars/Mujahid. It is noted that, at the beginning, except Europeans, nobody dared move around in Dacca during the night.76 Anyone moving around was shot by the Razakars on suspicion that they were the Mukti Bahini, while the Mukti Bahini shot on suspicion that they were the Razakars. As it became clear to the Bengalis that the cycle of violence and reprisals would not end, they began taking the side of the stronger Mukti Bahini. The BSF had also created a special com­ mando unit called the “Black Shirts” for ambushing the Pakistani forces in several locations.77 By May, however, the freedom fighters had started to feel the pain inflicted by the superior Pakistani forces. At this juncture, the Indian Armed Forces had to intervene in support of the BSF, resulting in the core of the Mukti Bahini comprising of the Niamit Bahini – the actual fighting force; Gona Bahini – irre­ gular forces and saboteurs; and, Bicchus (scorpions) – female units mostly operating in intelligence, communications and subversive roles.78

178 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises There was also a Mukti Bahini naval wing. Ports were the backbone of East Pakistan’s economy as well as security, and there were several Bengalis working in the docks and ports that gave India valuable targets to hit. In addition, as the next section will illustrate, India had managed to shut the airspace for Pakistani flights that caused Pakistan to rely extensively on waterways to sustain its war efforts in the east. Therefore, targeting the ports had a crippling effect on Pakistan’s overall war efforts. The role and achievements of the Mukti Bahini naval wing as descri­ bed by Mihir Roy, India’s Director of Naval Intelligence, is as follows: “Mukti Bahini frogmen operated in the riverine areas with the aim of neutralising the main seaports to prevent [military] supplies… and stop the traditional exports of jute, tea, coir, etc. which earned badly needed for­ eign exchange for Pakistan’s military dictators… The frogmen held East Pakistan in a state of siege in the highest traditions of war at sea and that too without possessing a single oceangoing vessel”.79 Despite all these developments, there were numerous differences between the Indian Armed Forces and the Mukti Bahini that was inhibiting the speed of training and operations. Here, the R&AW Calcutta Station, headed by Joint Director P.N. Banerjee, became indispensable in both informing New Delhi of the troubles as well as mending the affairs.80 The first major difference origi­ nated from India’s cautious approach in equipping the guerrillas, owing to concerns about maintaining deniability. As a result, arms had to be siphoned from a third party, or sparingly distributed only to those cadres who were confident of perfect execution of operations. Despite the question of deniability being given prominence, it appears that foreign intelligence agencies, especially the British, had a fairly clear picture of the training camps.81 Second, at several instances, the objectives and procedures of the Indian security forces were at loggerheads with that of the liberation forces. In some instances, the BSF gave fire support to the guerrillas, while in others, the BSF was actively disarming the guerrillas for fear of unthoughtful actions by the latter.82 The Indian Army too had its differences with the guerrillas.83 Three brigades of the Bangladesh Army called Z, K and S forces, comprising of infantry bat­ talions and an artillery battery had been raised and deployed under the com­ mand of Colonel Osmani, an officer of EBR who had fled Dhaka. Despite being trained by the Indian Army, Colonel Osmani’s forces were in conflict with their trainers since the Bangla forces, being remnants of the Pakistani Army, had distinct operational styles that were incompatible with the Indian Army. The R&AW’s reports to New Delhi were absolutely candid in covering all grievances and complaints of the Bengali fighters. By virtue of long association, the Bengali refugees and liberation forces were comfortable dealing with the R&AW. Col Menon and Banerjee were regularly informed about the conditions in the training camps and their requirements. The July report, sent by Banerjee expressed discontent and dissatisfaction within the Bangladesh Army, which included limited availability of arms,

Indian Intelligence and the 1971 Indo-Pak War 179 medical facilities and payments. The report also enclosed within it the criticisms of operational interference and heavy-handed approach of the Indian Army commanders.84 Finally, involvement in covert actions had also made the R&AW aware of the probable dangers of overly relying on Bengali soldiers who had previously served in the Pakistan Army. Appreciating the factional differences in the Bengali camp, the agency had organised another militia known as “Mujib Bahini” under the leadership of Fazlul Haq Moni, Mujib’s nephew. This group was trained by General Sujan Singh Uban of the SFF and played an important role in corroborating the R&AW’s intelligence reportage. It was Banerjee’s idea to create the Mujib Bahini to offset the emergence of an “Army lobby” in independent Bangladesh.85 Thus, the Indian intelligence bureaucracies had worked collectively towards training the Bengali rebels, frustrating Pakistani intelligence operations and conducting sabotage operations behind the enemy lines. While all these were in play, the R&AW had not lost sight of its primary role, which was to provide warning intelligence on the enemy’s capabilities and intentions.

Intelligence Basis for the Preparation and Conduct of the War It has been noted earlier that the idea to exploit the crisis in East Pakistan towards the liberation of Bangladesh was mooted by the R&AW. Joint Director Banerjee, seizing the opportunity, had briefed his subordinates that India should teach Pakistan a “lesson it would never forget”.86 To accomplish this, the R&AW would have to keep New Delhi regularly updated with strategic intelligence on Pakistan. To do so, the agency had to undertake one final, yet spectacular, operation before the war. This operation not only frustrated the Pakistan Army’s war preparations, but also allowed the agency to monitor the enemy preparations with relative ease. Jammu & Kashmir (J&K), an Indian state bordering West Pakistan, had been an important area of concern in Indo-Pak relations. Two failed attempts to militarily occupy the state had parallelly led Pakistan to mount subversive operations that gradually took the shape of terrorism. It was against this backdrop that the R&AW had assessed that a diversionary attack or infiltration in J&K was a distinct possibility.87 In January 1971, as Colonel Menon’s report predicted a mass rebellion in East Bengal, a security development in J&K provided an opportunity for the R&AW to conduct an operation that would in effect kill two birds with one stone. First, it would allow the agency to delink West and East Pakistan, which would make military preparations difficult for Pakistan. Second, although Mujib was co-operating with India, the R&AW was yet to assess his stance on Kashmir. The situation developing in Kashmir presented the agency with an opportunity to make this assessment. An infiltrator from Pakistan Occupied Kashmir was captured by the Border Security Force (BSF), which revealed a plan hatched by a Pakistan-sponsored terrorist group called the National Liberation Front to hijack an Indian flight. On 30 January 1971, notwithstanding the revelation, an Indian Airlines flight

180 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises from Srinagar – capital of J&K – was hijacked by Hashim Qureshi and his cousin Ashraf Qureshi and forced to land in Lahore.88 The 26 hostages on board were released, but the flight was burnt down after the hijackers were met and greeted by Zulfikar Ali Bhutto as freedom fighters. Mujib, however, chose to condemn the attack, which gave the Indian agencies a positive indication of his stance on Kashmir. Two days later, a livid G.M. Sadiq – Chief Minister of J&K – wrote to Mrs. Gandhi terming the incident a horrible case of intelligence failure as Hashim, a Pakistani agent and hijacker, had worked in the BSF as a sub-inspector.89 Sadiq accused that, as a sub-inspector, Hashim had gathered vital intelligence for his bosses in Islamabad, which had enabled the hijacking. The truth, however, was that Hashim was working for India.90 He was initially an agent of the Pakistani intelligence sent to hijack the plane when it would be piloted by Rajiv Gandhi.91 On being caught, instead of punishing him, the R&AW and the BSF, with the approval of Indira, turned him into an Indian agent in return for clemency. The flight that was hijacked and set ablaze was an old decommissioned flight called Ganga, which was specifically chosen by the R&AW. The hijackers were briefly hailed as heroes in Pakistan, but later imprisoned for lengthy terms on realisation of the Indian plot. In addition to learning Mujib’s intentions on Kashmir, the operation was an intelligence coup achieved by Kao with the intention of throwing international spotlight on Pakistan’s sponsorship of terrorism.92 New Delhi immediately ordered the closure of Indian airspace for Pakistani flights, which meant that the sole connectivity between West and East Pakistan would be by sea, around the southern coast of India and stopping over at Sri Lanka for refuelling. In pursuance of the ‘Indira Doctrine’, however, the R&AW had already established a strong presence in Sri Lanka.93 Every Pakis­ tani ship entering the Colombo harbour and aircraft refuelling at the Bandar­ anaike Airport was monitored and reported by the agency’s station in Colombo.94 Therefore, the R&AW had managed to not only frustrate Paki­ stan’s logistic capability but also did so in a manner that facilitated monitoring of troop and material movements from the West to East Pakistan. Similarly, India had made another breakthrough in collecting intelligence from China since Pakistan’s increasing military capability was in part facilitated by Chinese assistance. In 1964, under the auspices of Gyalo Thondup, brother of the Dalai Lama, Mr Wang, the Deputy Director of Taiwanese national security had visited New Delhi, met DIB Mullik and established formal intel­ ligence ties between India and Taiwan.95 This gave the IB a vital source of intelligence on China, which the R&AW later inherited. Nevertheless, the overall Indian intelligence coverage on Pakistan and China was made difficult by the respective nation’s counterintelligence. In Pakistan, diplomatic cover guaranteed no immunity as officers were “beaten and administered electric shocks” on suspicion of espionage by the ISI.96 In China, as recalled by an R&AW officer of the era, racial differences made diplomatic cover the main way of espionage, but “a diplomat’s life in Beijing was tantamount to house arrest, with even the domestic help spying on

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181

us. The only source of information, thus, was the diplomatic community of friendly countries, especially the Soviets and Vietnamese”.97 Hence, the R&AW was forced to expand its network globally to source intelligence on Pakistan and China. A number of stations were, thence, established. Some important ones with their objectives are stated below:98 •

•

•

•

Paris and Bonn: China was Pakistan’s most reliable defence supplier, and the R&AW had learnt that China was trying to acquire military techno­ logical know-how from West Germany, while Pakistan was trying to equip its Air Force and Navy with French mirage aircraft and submarines, respectively. The agency had also received reports of Pakistani negotiations with West Germany and other European nations to buy tanks. Therefore, the Paris and Bonn stations were to collect such intelligence. Istanbul: This station was granted the greatest importance of all and sought to be supervised by a senior officer, as Turkey and Pakistan shared the closest military relations as members of the Baghdad Pact. The Turkish Defence College and numerous other defence installations were situated in Istanbul, where Pakistani military personnel were trained. Turkish officers had even been visiting Pakistan for various purposes, which had made Istanbul an important unit for the R&AW. Hanoi and Phnom Penh: Hanoi provided the agency an ideal location to establish a listening post to monitor both the Chinese and Pakistani movements in the Bay of Bengal. Phnom Penh was considered critical to study the Chinese intentions. Mauritius, Fiji and Trinidad: The three archipelagos that spread from the Indian to the Pacific Oceans, were home to a large diaspora of Indians. The R&AW’s logic for the establishment of these units were to use them “as listening posts as well as jumping boards for launching clandestine operations and servicing them”.

Thus, having established its network globally, the R&AW reported an improvement in Rawalpindi’s military capabilities since the 1965 war and estimated that a war fighting capacity of 90–150 days was existent.99 New Delhi was informed that Pakistan was supplied with helicopters, torpedoes, missiles and Daphne class submarines from Paris. There were some discrepancies in the estimates drawn on the wireless equipment and tanks sourced from Beijing, which became clear only after the war from the interrogation of prisoners. The U.S. had supplied fighter planes through third parties to maintain secrecy and avoid domestic backlash.100 To balance the growing Pakistani capabilities, Indian defence planners were able to source weapons and equipment from the Soviet Union and Israel. While the Soviet Union had an obligation under the treaty of friendship and co-operation, the case of Israeli assistance is relevant from India’s intelligence point of view. India and Israel had no formal relations until 1992; and, Israel was an ally of the U. S. – an ally of Pakistan. P.N. Haksar, however, managed to establish covert

182 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises links with the Jewish state, and through an arms manufacturer called Shlomo Zabludowicz, mortars and ammunition were clandestinely procured. In all this, the R&AW had acted as an important intermediary.101 Despite such war preparations moving in earnestness, the Indian government was still keen on avoiding war if liberation could be achieved without military involvement. Moreover, even in the eventuality of a war, India did not want to be seen as the aggressor. Ergo, the Indian military mobilisations in the east had to be a well-guarded secret. Knowing the slow-paced mobilisation of the forces, Manekshaw disagreed and called for complete mobilisation to the bor­ ders. It was finally decided that the troops will be moved, but not till the borders, and will assume the cover of counterinsurgency and anti-Maoist operations. The R&AW was tasked with conducting deception operations to mislead the Americans into believing that the Indian Army was still unprepared for war. This it did by convincing Khondaker Mushtoq Ahmed – a Banglade­ shi politician and an alleged American intelligence source – of the Indian military commitment towards anti-Maoist and counterinsurgent operations, forbidding war preparations.102 Once the Indian Army was ready, New Delhi had expected Pakistan to attack in the west to compel diversion of the Indian troop build-up from the east. The perception was spot on as the thinking in Islamabad was that, “the defence of East Pakistan lay in West Pakistan”.103 Therefore, India required two things at this moment – precise intelligence on Pakistan’s intentions in the west; and, a quick conclusion to the war in the east, after it had begun. Against this backdrop, the D-day was fixed for 4 December 1971. However, on 29 November Pakistan planned a 1967 Israeli style pre-emptive strike on the IAF bases in the west. On 30 November the Australian Military Attaché in New Delhi rang up Major General Inder Gill and informed him of the evacuation of the families of diplomats from Islamabad, which was a clear indication that war was approaching.104 Yet, at that point India was only psychologically prepared for a strike from the West. Questions about the place, time and nature of the attack still loomed large. On 3 December India was struck by the PAF and war was officially declared one day before India had planned to take the initiative. In reality, the air strikes caused more damage to Pakistan than India, as the former was now officially the aggressor. India, notwithstanding its psychological readiness for a Pakistani strike in the west, also had credible intelligence about the upcoming air strikes. Col Menon received a secret wireless communication from an informant operating in Karachi that the PAF was preparing for an attack on 1 December.105 The information was passed on to Air Vice-Marshal Lalu Grewal, Director of Air Intelligence, and the IAF was put on high alert. The IAF expressed its agitation when the strikes did not come until 2 December. However, on request from Col Menon, the IAF exten­ ded the state of high alertness until dawn of 4 December. On 3 December the PAF launched its pre-emptive strikes and were caught by surprise. Later, investi­ gation revealed that the information was accurate, but the analysts at the R&AW had erred in “receiving the Morse transmission and decoding it”.106 Thus, when

Indian Intelligence and the 1971 Indo-Pak War 183 the attacks came, it was more of a relief than a surprise to New Delhi as it gave the much-desired casus belli to declare war.107 The final strategic intelligence requirement during the war was the probable role the U.S. and China would play, being allies of Pakistan. It was here that India sought the assistance of the Soviets to augment its intelligence capabilities. A member of the Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) from that time has stated that “the Soviets had put up a special dedicated satellite” for gathering intelli­ gence of interest to India.108 Also, under the command of Brigadier M.B.K. Nair, the R&AW’s own signals intelligence (SIGINT) penetrated Pakistan Army communications. On 10 December the agency intercepted an American message that indicated that the 7th fleet had reached Sri Lanka from Viet­ nam.109 The same day, Soviet intelligence learnt of a British naval group led by aircraft carrier HMS Eagle approaching Indian territorial waters. In response, they dispatched a nuclear armed flotilla from Vladivostok.110 On 15 December, a day before the surrender of Pakistan, the R&AW observed the USS Enter­ prise’s movement past Thailand. Admiral Kruglyakov of the Soviet Navy recalls that his orders were to surface “the submarines when the Americans appear”, and the events in the seas went as per the Soviet plan. Shortly thereafter, an intercepted message from Admiral Gordon, commander of the British fleet, to the 7th fleet commander said, “Sir, we are too late. There are the Russian atomic submarines here, and a big collection of battleships”.111 With regards to China, three theories have emerged to explain Chinese inaction during the war, despite Beijing’s insistence during Kissinger’s visit that Pakistan be protected. One theory is that the domestic political complexities emerging out of challenges to Mao’s authority within the Politburo dissuaded him from making military moves against India. Chinese diplomatic communications with foreign diplomats hoping that India and Pakistan will exercise restraint is seen in this light.112 The second theory, largely expressed by Indian military officers who have written on the war, is that the snow-clad winters made Chinese intervention impossible – a subtle appreciation of their own wisdom as planners, as this was a factor considered while planning. However, one has to only look back to realise that these were precisely the considerations Mao made before the 1962 war. In fact, while planning for the 1971 war, despite the weather considerations, Indian mili­ tary planners had considered the possibility of a Chinese intervention. It was against this backdrop that the Bangladesh operations had called for a speedy conclusion, so that “the borrowed formations from the north could revert in time to meet the likely Chinese reaction”. This sort of a plan called for a close co-ordination between intelligence agencies and operational planners, which Major-General Sukhwant Singh termed as “something hitherto unpractised in India”.113 In the worst-case scenario, the Indo-Soviet treaty would come to India’s rescue, which actually forms the basis of the third theory that is held by some quarters in India. According to this theory, the Chinese tried to mobilise troops to the NEFA border following an SOS by Pakistan, which was picked up by the R&AW’s SIGINT facility.114 Following through with the Indo-Soviet treaty, the Soviets mobilised along the Sino-Soviet border, prompting the People’s Liberation Army

184 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises (PLA) troops to fall back, well behind their positions against NEFA. Another Indian Intelligence Studies scholar Prem Mahadevan, citing an authoritative source who had served on the General Officer Commanding-in-Chief Eastern Command, Lieutenant General Jagjit Singh Aurora’s staff, confirmed these details, while adding that Moscow had mobilised 47 divisions.115 Also, General Manekshaw had, interestingly, shown a calculated restraint in withdrawing troops from the China borders for East Pakistan operations until 8 December – his subordinates could not understand why, and were considerably irritated.116 Looking in retrospect, a RAND Corporation study conducted in 1982 asserted that the deterrent value against China observed by the Soviet military planners during the 1971 war formed the basis for Soviet military planning in the Siberian and far-east region for the next decade. Most notably, the logic behind signing the November 1978 treaty with Vietnam – where it could take weeks for the Soviet ground forces to arrive – was based on the deterrence achieved in 1971.117 There is, therefore, some force to what the proponents of the third theory have to say. The only anxiety the Soviets had was regarding India’s intentions in West Pakistan, which New Delhi allayed via P.N. Dhar’s visit to Moscow, where India assured that it had no territorial ambitions in the west. With this anxiety settled, PM Gandhi could threaten the Chinese of Soviet action in the Sinkiang region in the event of a PLA mobilisation.118 Therefore, the R&AW had provided an overall strategic intelligence picture of the enemy that India was facing in 1971, and wherever required, it also played an important role in augmenting Indian capabilities through liaison channels with friendly nations like the USSR and Israel. Finally, beyond stra­ tegic intelligence, the agency also provided the armed forces with operational and tactical intelligence, which had strategic consequences. These will be explored in the next sub-section.

R&AW’s Provision of Operational and Tactical Intelligence The R&AW played a stellar role in even providing tactical and operational intel­ ligence during the war. This needs examination not to highlight the agency’s prowess, but to understand a precedent that it set up, which would have farreaching implications on later instances of surprises like the 1999 Kargil War, which will be discussed in the next chapter. A distinction between what was within the realm of strategic intelligence and what went beyond was lost on the consumers who felt that every bit of information on the enemy had to come from the R&AW. This is an aspect that will be dealt with in detail in the next chapter, this section – with a few examples – provides the basis for it by narrating the role the agency played at operational and tactical levels leading to strategic outcomes. The R&AW’s coverage of East Pakistan was excellent owing to its own TECHINT capabilities and the HUMINT generated by the DGS and the Bengali rebels. The rebels who were former soldiers of the EBR and EPR were extremely familiar with East Pakistani terrain and society. With the agency training them for intelligence operations, information flow from within

Indian Intelligence and the 1971 Indo-Pak War 185 the enemy territory was almost flawless. The Bengali cadres were also helpful in weeding out Pakistani spies and detecting any misinformation. With such intelligence coverage of the region, when the IAF struck the Governor’s house in Dhaka, which interrupted an important meeting of key individuals and in effect caused the surrender of Niazi, the R&AW was unsurprisingly the pri­ mary driver of the action. As a closely guarded secret meeting, the information from the agency reached the IAF only 45 minutes before commencement. But, as the IAF got airborne, fresh intelligence inputs showed a shift in the venue to a congested neighbourhood.119 The agency picked up this information through a HUMINT source, and an agent pinpointed the exact building where the meeting was being held.120 This was one such instance where operational intelligence had strategic ramifications, which was produced mainly because of the in-depth intelligence dominance the R&AW had achieved in the east. There were, however, significant challenges to intelligence-military co-operation in the east. Calcutta station chief Banerjee was uncomfortable with General Manekshaw’s request for sharing war bulletins between the Indian Army and the Bangladesh Army. In his opinion, that was tantamount to making the R&AW a “courier of the Eastern Command” and raised the issue with Kao. Kao persuaded Banerjee to undertake this role, personally or through a field officer, so that R&AW could be better informed about the developments in the two armies.121 There were also issues over what intelligence could be shared with the Indian Army. Bearing in mind the operational considerations of the Indian Army, Kao directed Banerjee to share with General Aurora por­ tions of the R&AW reports dealing with the eastern sector. Sharing of any information concerning West Pakistan was categorically denied. In the western theatre, there were both intelligence success and failure stories, which raised both praises and complaints from the Army. However, the fact that the war was won by India failed to generate sufficient attention to the complaints. One success story in the west was the provision of the co-ordinates of the vital Karachi port to the IAF. The R&AW Kochi station had managed to procure the precise location of the port on the basis of the nautical information provided by a German ship that had reached the Kochi port after departing from Kar­ achi.122 This information was sent to New Delhi, which was then shared with the armed forces. Such success stories notwithstanding, there were a few operational intelligence errors that brought criticisms against the agency. The official history of the 1971 war as recorded by the Indian Ministry of Defence points to two failed instances and makes an important observation. Owing to a late October reorganisation of Pakistan’s ORBAT, the R&AW lost track of some offensive formations in the West, especially the 7th Infantry Divi­ sion. It came to be renowned as the “Phantom Division” because of its alleged appearance at several locations across the border.123 Citing two other similar instances, where the agency had missed a road or presence of troops in a parti­ cular location causing harm to the advancing Indian troops, the official history noted that at the tactical level, “intelligence proved far from satisfactory”.124 However, it ended its analysis of the war commenting that:

186 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises “it should be noted that combat intelligence in the battle zone is basically the concern of the field commander”. The Army, nonetheless, raised complaints over the R&AW’s inefficiency in producing such tactical level intelligence while failing to realise that certain informational gaps remained unfulfilled due to the failure of the Army to share its intelligence with the R&AW. Information procured through prisoner interrogation, for instance, did not reach the central agencies that could have made better sense of the information.125 Hence, such allegations of failure, which are a consequence of an ‘end-user’ syndrome, had to be critically asses­ sed (see next chapter for more on this aspect).

The Bangladesh Liberation War: A Result of Intelligence and Policy Successes So far, the chapter has highlighted the impressive accomplishments of Indian intelligence bureaucracies in informing India’s military planning and policy prior to and during the 1971 war. The previous chapter had observed that the IB had also provided sufficient warnings to the political and military leaderships about China’s nefarious designs. On observation of the inputs provided by the IB and the decisions taken by New Delhi, it was concluded that the 1962 Sino-Indian war was a consequence of both intelligence and policy failures. What about the 1971 war? Was it just an intelligence success that caused India’s exceptional handling of the East-Pakistani crisis and clinical performance during the war? Even here, the outcome was a consequence of both intelligence and policy successes. The birth of the R&AW is owed in large part to the ‘Indira Doctrine’, which sought to extend India’s influence in the immediate neighbourhood. Therefore, the emergence of the agency was a result of a policy decision aimed at devising a security strategy for India. In the words of scholar Zorawar Daulet Singh: “Indira Gandhi’s decision to create a dedicated external intelligence arm, [the R&AW], headed by one of her most trusted advisors, Kao, underscored an outlook that India needed to develop ‘the instruments of statecraft’ to pursue its strategic interests in South Asia”.126 Since the creation of the agency was itself a policy decision with a clear goal of upholding national interests in India’s neighbourhood, there was bound to be improved acceptance of its inputs. Thus, when in 1969 the agency reported that the liberation of Bangladesh was inevitable and India must prepare for it, the political leadership readily accepted the assessment. From its inception to the conclusion of the 1971 war, the R&AW saw active involvement of the political leadership in the intelligence process. Such involvement did not entail interference in operational matters where the intelligence managers held sig­ nificant autonomy. On the contrary, political involvement was to facilitate organisational development and enhance interagency co-operation.

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For instance, Indira placed the R&AW in the Cabinet Secretariat primarily to sustain its foreign policy focus as well as maintain proximity with the deci­ sion-making apparatus in New Delhi. The proximity enabled periodic tasking, review and feedback of the agency’s working and products. Indira’s closest aide and Principal Secretary P.N. Haksar, was closely involved in reviewing and improving the working of the intelligence agencies. In one of the review meetings, he reflected that: “urgent measures were called for to make the whole intelligence set-up more dynamic and responsive to the requirements of the Government’s policies and priorities…while each organisation should be complete in itself, and develop according to the tasks given to it, at the highest levels of control and command, there should be a clearer perception of the Government’s policies and their requirements and an identical commitment to and under­ standing of them. This would be facilitated by some scope for lateral movement at that level and inter-changeability. The present system, which in some way, is a hang-over of the pattern as it existed before independence, does not permit this, because of some arbitrary inequalities”.127 With such high-level involvement in the intelligence-policy processes, many of the structural flaws impeding intelligence effectiveness were weeded out. For instance, it was realised that the DGS held an annual budget of 17 crore rupees in the fiscal year 1970/71. The annual review, however, indicated that inputs of the DGS matched that of the R&AW, which was leading to unnecessary duplication of intelligence. In light of this, it was decided that if the DGS was “more closely meshed with the R&AW and the available number of posts be better utilised eschewing all duplication” an estimated 25 percent of the project outlay could be saved.128 Therefore, political involvement in the intelligence business ensured both improvement in capabilities as well as reception of the intelligence product. Similarly, the other major consumer of strategic intelligence, i.e. the military, also showed equal enthusiasm for intelligence-led-policymaking. Since the JIC continued with its defunct reputation, the Chiefs of Staff Committee (COSC) under the directorship of General Sam Manekshaw emerged as the de facto all-source assessment body supporting military policy and planning. The R&AW had itself emerged as an all-source assessment body since Kao had employed a military and foreign service adviser to task and set prio­ rities.129 But, Manekshaw’s previous experience with intelligence agencies compelled him to demand a degree of control over the intelligence process and product. In 1969, while engaged in counterinsurgency duties, the R&AW and the IB had reported that some 2,000 hostile Naga had crossed over the Burmese bor­ ders into the Yunnan province. The Military Intelligence, however, placed the estimate at about 450. Several months later, interrogation of captured insurgents by Indian and Burmese armies revealed that the Military Intelligence’s estimates were right.130 Manekshaw had, thus, come to believe that the civilian agencies

188 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises tended to over-estimate threats. Consequently, co-ordinated assessment of threats were sought to supplant such errors. Manekshaw and Kao also shared an amicable personal relationship, which helped ease some of the obstacles to intelligence-military relationship and maintained a steady feedback channel. For instance, when the R&AW sent reports on occasions that were generic, Manekshaw wrote to R.N. Kao that, “while facts were important, what he needed was an assessment based on those facts that would enable him to take a decision”.131 Thus, under Manekshaw, the COSC became a point of interaction for the representatives of the R&AW, the IB, the BSF and the service intelligence directors to meet on a daily basis and assess intelligence requirements. The Prime Minister and her advisors were also updated on the key findings of these meetings, which became part of their political and economic analyses of the adversary.132 Therefore, the overall decision-making apparatus, both at political and military levels, during the 1971 war was a clear reflection of exemplary intelligence performances that were made possible and meaningful by adroit policy choices. This makes the 1971 war a case of both intelligence and policy success. Nonetheless, as witnessed in the section on operational and tactical intelligence, there were some complaints raised by the consumers about the quality of the intelligence product. This emerged mainly by a misguided perception about the role of strategic intelligence agencies. Logically, post-event analysis should have triggered a debate around this issue. Instead, the glory of victory in war closed all avenues for introspection. After the war, the Indian Army sent a word of appreciation for the R&AW’s contribution. Indira Gandhi, however, is reported to have remarked that: “R&AW officers should not allow this praise to go to their head. The Army is generous in praising the R&AW because it won the war”.133 Prophetic were these words, for this is exactly what happened in 1999. In the next chapter, we shall examine this and many other factors that led to the surprise on the Kargil hilltops.

Notes 1 ‘Special Assessments of the Situation between India and Pakistan (Guerrilla Activities)’, FCO 37/919, 20 October 1971, UKNA. 2 David J. Gibson, ‘Shock and Awe: A Sufficient Condition for Victory?’, Naval War College Dissertation, 5 February 2001, pp. 9–10, available at https://apps.dtic. mil/dtic/tr/fulltext/u2/a389508.pdf, accessed on 27 June 2019. 3 Interestingly, even the British were misled into believing that India lacked prior information on Pakistan’s plans. The British reported that “there was little or no warning of attack and in consequence air and ground defences were kept con­ tinuously at a high state of readiness”. The reporting official also added that, “I was told that with little or no warning and the high speed of attack – up to 600 knots – the Gunners barely had the time to elevate their guns before the attack was over”. The reasons for these will be explored later in this chapter, but for now, it is

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4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

14 15 16 17

18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26

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noteworthy that a newly created Indian intelligence agency had managed to achieve such a significant intelligence coup. ‘British High Commission, New Delhi to Ministry of Defence, London’, FCO 37/1166, 24 January 1972, UKNA. Cited in Srinath Raghavan, 1971: A Global History of the Creation of Bangladesh, Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2013, p. 234. Ibid, p. 267. ‘Some Economic Consequences of Two Pakistans’, Central Intelligence Agency, May 1971, available at www.cia.gov/library/readingroom/docs/ CIA-RDP85T00875R001700010032-4.pdf, accessed on 28 June 2019. ‘Political Crisis in East Pakistan’, Foreign and Commonwealth Office, FCO37/892, 1971, p. 1, UKNA; Owen L. Sirrs, Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence Directorate: Covert Action and Internal Operations, London: Routledge, 2016, p. 72. ‘Chronology of principal events in Bangladesh’, External Affairs, File No. WII/ 105/16/71, NAI. Arvindar Singh, Myths and Realities of Security and Public Affairs, New Delhi: Ocean Books, 2011, p. 91. Gary J. Bass, The Blood Telegram: India’s Secret War in East Pakistan, Noida: Random House Publishers, 2013, p. 173. Ibid. Interview with former Special Service Bureau (SSB) officer – S1, 24 January 2019. Establishment-22 was the original name given to the organisation in recognition of Uban’s service, who was from the Twenty-Second Artillery Regiment. It was rechristened as the SFF in 1966. M.S. Kohli and Kenneth Conboy, Spies in the Himalayas: Secret Missions and Perilous Climbs, Kansas: University Press of Kansas, 2002, p. 139. Ibid, p. 16.

Ibid, p. 220.

Carole McGranahan, Arrested Histories: Tibet, the CIA, and Memories of a Forgotten

War, Durham: Duke University Press, 2010, p. 139. Although the British SAS trained the SSB, the latter soon realised that the Pakistani Army special forces unit Special Services Group had received similar training from the American special forces, who had earlier been trained by the SAS. Consequently, the SSB had to improvise and customise its training curriculum to match its operational requirements. Interview with former SSB officer – S1, 24 January 2019. Ibid. Kohli and Conboy, Spies in the Himalayas, 2002, p. 19. Interview with former SSB officer – S1, 24 January 2019. Kohli and Conboy, Spies in the Himalayas, 2002, p. 17. B. Raman, Intelligence: Past, Present and Future, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 2002, p. 63. Kohli and Conboy, Spies in the Himalayas, 2002, p. 55. K. Sankaran Nair, Inside IB and RAW: The Rolling Stone that Gathered Moss, New Delhi: Manas Publications, 2016, p. 153. C. Raja Mohan, ‘Foreign Policy after 1990’, in David Malone, C. Raja Mohan and Srinath Raghavan, The Oxford Handbook of Indian Foreign Policy, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015, p. 138. Notwithstanding the Indira Doctrine driving the need for a dedicated foreign intel­ ligence service, there is a school of thought that believes that the political situation in India during the Indira years was marked by an unprecedented consolidation of power by the prime minister. She was particularly wary of the political challenge posed by Home Minister Chavan. In order to weaken Chavan’s capabilities, it is believed that Indira created the R&AW by bifurcating the IB, which was under the Home Ministry. Several other bureaucracies like the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) and the Department of Personnel were also transferred from the Home

190 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises

27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51

52 53

Ministry to the Prime Minister’s Office (PMO). Nair, Inside IB and RAW, 2016, p. 154.; One officer from the era has also commented that Indira hated the IB, but “she just about tolerated” the R&AW, suggesting that the R&AW was just another bureaucracy as far as Indira was concerned. Vappala Balachandran, National Security and Intelligence Management, New Delhi: Indus Source Books, 2014, p. 112. B. Raman, The Kaoboys of R&AW: Down Memory Lane, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 2013, p. 136. Interview with former SSB officer – S1, 24 January 2019. In the interim, it was the DGS that functioned as India’s foreign intelligence service. Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R1, 19 August 2018. Nair, Inside IB and RAW, 2016, pp. 154–155. For a biographical account of R.N. Kao, see Nitin A. Gokhale, R.N Kao: Gentleman Spymaster, New Delhi: Bloomsbury India, 2019. ‘Rameshwar Nath Kao, Secretary, Cabinet Secretariat and Director of General Security’, Leading Personalities in India, FCO 37/1923, 1977, UKNA. Jairam Ramesh, Intertwined Lives: P.N. Haksar & Indira Gandhi, London: Simon and Schuster, 2018.; Interview with former Home Secretary of India, R.D. Pradhan, 14 November 2018. Interview with former Home Secretary of India, R.D. Pradhan, 14 November 2018. Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R2, 22 September 2018. Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R1, 19 August 2018. Nair, Inside IB and RAW, 2016, p. 155. Interview with former R&AW Senior Field Officer – F1, 27 January 2019. Michael Herman, Intelligence in Peace and War, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999, p. 9. B.N. Mullik, My Years with Nehru: 1948–1964, Bombay: Allied Publishers, 1972, p. 212. Raman, The Kaoboys of R&AW, 2013, p. 87. ‘Creation of the post of a Foreign Service Adviser at the Hqrs of the Research and Analysis Wing for maintaining liaison with the Ministry of External Affairs’, Haksar Papers-III Instalment, Subject File 227, 1970, NMML. Ibid. Gokhale, R.N. Kao, 2019. Subir Bhaumik, Insurgent Crossfire: North-east India, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 1996, p. 32. Ibid. Chandrashekhar Dasgupta, ‘The Decision to Intervene: First Steps in India’s Grand Strategy in the 1971 War’, Strategic Analysis, Vol. 40, No. 4, 2016, p. 322. ‘Arshad Hussain’s Allegation’, Ministry of External Affairs, Haksar Papers-III Instalment, Subject File 227, 1969, NMML. Dasgupta, ‘The Decision to Intervene’, 2016, p. 323. Ibid, p. 325. ‘Threat of a Military Attack or Infiltration Campaign by Pakistan’, Haksar Papers III Instalment, Subject File 220, 1971, NMML. Kao’s assessment that China would be the ultimate beneficiary from the crisis in East Pakistan was later shared by the British intelligence on learning from a secret source that the guerrilla campaign was soon moving towards the Maoist control. The source was a former Muslim League worker, who considered Sheikh Mujib Rahman as a “second rater” who did not qualify to hold a senior position. ‘Political Crisis in East Pakistan’, FCO 37/894, 15 October 1971, UKNA. Ibid. ‘Points which P.M. might consider making at the meeting of the Opposition Leaders, to be held on Friday, May 7, to consider the situation in Bangla Desh.’, Haksar Papers III Instalment, Subject File 220, 1971, NMML.

Indian Intelligence and the 1971 Indo-Pak War 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76

77 78 79 80

191

Ibid. Bass, The Blood Telegram, 2013, pp. 136–141. Raman, The Kaoboys of R&AW, 2013, p. 22. Natwar Singh, One Life is Not Enough: An Autobiography, New Delhi: Rupa & Co., 2014, p. 153. ‘Ministry of Information and National Affairs, External Publicity Wing, Government of India’, Haksar Papers III Instalment, Subject File 220, 1 October 1971, NMML. ‘Haksar to Gandhi’, Haksar Papers III Instalment, Subject File 227, 1971, NMML. ‘SSB and Bangladesh’, Haksar Papers III Instalment, Subject File 220, 1971, NMML. Ibid. Ibid. Interview with former SSB officer – S1, 24 January 2019. Prabir Barua Chowdhury, ‘Phantoms in The Hills’, The Daily Star, 8 May 2019, available at www.thedailystar.net/wide-angle/phantoms-the-hills-168325, acces­ sed on 8 May 2019. Claude Arpi, ‘The Tibetans who Fought the 1971 War’, Tibet Sun, 10 January 2012, available at www.tibetsun.com/interviews/2012/01/10/the-tibetans-who­ fought-the-1971-war, accessed on 8 May 2019. Ibid. Chowdhury, ‘Phantoms in The Hills’, 2019. Ibid. Praveen Swami, India, Pakistan and the Secret Jihad, London: Routledge, 2006, p. 120. Kapil Kak, ‘Revisiting the 1971 War and the IAF’s Role: India’s Interests and Compulsions’, in Jasjit Singh, Role of Indian Air Force in 1971 War, New Delhi: KW Publishers, 2013, p. 62. M.K. Dhar, Open Secrets: India’s Intelligence Unveiled, New Delhi: Manas Publica­ tions, 2012, p. 217. Interview with former IB Assistant Director, R.N. Kulkarni, 10 January 2020. ‘Letter from Habibur Rehman to Indira Gandhi’, Haksar Papers III Instalment, Subject File 220, 1 November 1971, NMML. Ibid. K.F. Rustamji, The British, the Bandits and the Bordermen, New Delhi: Wisdom Tree, 2009, p. 321. ‘Political Crisis in East Pakistan’, FCO 37/894, 16 November 1971, UKNA. By the end of August, it was clear to the British intelligence that the aim of the Mukti Bahini’s tactics was to “disrupt the economy and hamstring the Army”. However, in the Chittagong region, the British intelligence reported that “the ‘Naxalites’ with automatic weapons were out-gunning the Mukti Bahini and the latter have sent a plea to their headquarters in India”. ‘Political Crisis in East Pakistan’, FCO 37/893, October 1971, UKNA.; The overall assessment of the British JIC at the end of August 1971 was that the Mukti Bahini would be unable to effectively challenge the Pakistani Army. ‘The Guerrillas and the Internal Political Situation’, FCO 37/920, 1 October 1971, UKNA. S. Prasad, Official History of the 1971 India-Pakistan War, New Delhi: Ministry of Defence, 1992, pp. 179–203. Mihir K. Roy, War in the Indian Ocean, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 1995, p. 148. Ibid, pp. 148–149, 174. For an updated version of the covert role played by the Indian Navy, see M.N.R. Samant and Sandeep Unnithan, Operation-X: The Untold Story of India’s Covert War in Bangladesh, New Delhi: Harper Collins, 2019. ‘Report from the Joint Director R&AW’, Haksar Papers III Instalment, Subject File 227, 3 July 1971, NMML.

192 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises 81 ‘Special Assessments of Situation between India and Pakistan (Guerilla Activities)’, FCO 37/919, 1971, UKNA.; The weak security around India’s covert operations could have also been New Delhi’s way of pacifying public opinion that was demanding some action in support of the Bengalis. 82 ‘Report from the Joint Director R&AW’, Haksar Papers III Instalment, Subject File 227, 3 July 1971, NMML. 83 ‘Political Crisis in East Pakistan’, FCO 37/891, 1971, UKNA, p. 998. 84 ‘Report from the Joint Director R&AW’, Haksar Papers III Instalment, Subject File 227, 3 July 1971, NMML. 85 Bhaumik, Insurgent Crossfire, 1996, p. 37. 86 Ibid, p. 146. 87 ‘Threat of a Military Attack or Infiltration Campaign by Pakistan’, Haksar Papers III Instalment, Subject File 220, 1971, NMML. 88 Swami, India, Pakistan and the Secret Jihad, 2006, pp. 112–113. 89 ‘Sadiq to Gandhi’, Haksar Papers III Instalment, Subject File 220, 1971, NMML. 90 Braj Mohan Sinha, The Samba Spying Case, New Delhi: Vikas, 1981, pp. 21–23. 91 Ibid. 92 Sinha, The Samba Spying Case, 1981, pp. 21–23.; Alistair Lamb, Kashmir: A Disputed Legacy, 1846–1990, Hertingfordbury: Roxford Books, 1991, p. 293. 93 Sri Lanka had been an important intelligence target since the days of the IB. When Mullik took over leadership in July 1950, his first reform was to rectify his predecessor’s pattern of posting for intelligence officers in European capitals to make India’s “limitrophe countries” the main targets. Sri Lanka, along with Burma, China and Sikkim, had become the main targets. R.N. Kulkarni, Sin of National Conscience, Mysore: Kritagnya Publications, 20014, p. 368.; Nair, Inside IB and RAW, 2016, p. 94. 94 Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R2, 22 September 2018. 95 Anne F. Thurston and Gyalo Thondup, The Noodle Maker of Kalimpong: The Untold Story of My Struggle for Tibet, Gurgaon: Random House India, 2016, p. 225. 96 Raman, The Kaoboys of R&AW, 2013, p. 228. 97 Interview with former Secretary (Research) N. Narasimhan, 8 November 2018. 98 ‘Opening of New Units of the R&AW in our Diplomatic Missions Abroad’, Haksar Papers III Instalment, Sub File No. 227, 23 June 1970, NMML. 99 ‘Threat of a Military Attack or Infiltration Campaign by Pakistan’, Haksar Papers III Instalment, Subject File 220, 1971, NMML. 100 ‘Jordan sent Jets to Pakistan despite Ban, U.S. confirms’, Central Intelligence Agency, 19 April 1972, available at accessed www.cia.gov/library/readingroom/ docs/CIA-RDP80-01601R000300210006-3.pdf, on 21 August 2019. 101 ‘Kao to Haksar’, Haksar Papers III Instalment, Subject File 220, 4 August 1971, NMML. 102 Subir Bhaumik, ‘The Ghosts of RAW’, News in Asia, 18 March 2017, available at https://newsin.asia/the-ghosts-of-raw, accessed on 15 August 2019.; In its 23 July 1971 report, the British High Commission had speculated that the reason for not using the Indian Army in training the guerrillas was “probably to maintain a state of readiness against a desperate Pakistani attack”. Bereft of credible intelligence inputs this assessment was wide of the mark. ‘Indian Support for the East Pakistan Guerrillas’, FCO 37/919, 23 July 1971, UKNA. 103 Hakeem Arshad Qureshi, The 1971 Indo-Pak War: A Soldier’s Narrative, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013, p. 137. 104 Behram M. Panthaki and Zenobia Panthaki, Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw: The Man and His Times, New Delhi: Niyogi Books, 2014, p. 114. 105 B. Raman, an intelligence officer who served during the war, has written that Col Menon was running an agent in the office of General Yahya who informed about the impending attacks in the last week of November. Raman, The Kaoboys of

Indian Intelligence and the 1971 Indo-Pak War

106 107

108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124

193

R&AW, 2013, p. 72.; However, Col Menon (Nair) in his book mentions that it was a Karachi based informant. This book has adopted the latter’s version of the story while noting that his book mentions the date wrong – January 1972 instead of December 1971. Nair, Inside IB and RAW, 2016, p. 165. Nair, Inside IB and RAW, 2016, p. 165. There is an interesting aspect to the targets chosen by Pakistan. In late October 1971, a Pakistani spy with a radio transmitter had been apprehended near the Adampur Air Base. The IB and the IAF used the apprehended spy to relay false information to his handler back in Pakistan. One such misleading information mentioned the presence of impregnable air defence weapons networks in and around the Adampur base. Subsequently, when the PAF air strikes came on 3 December, the Adampur air base was spared despite being within its immediate reach. Interview with Air Marshal (retd) Narayan Menon, 20 July 2018.; Instead, that night the PAF targeted IAF bases in Agra, Jodhpur, and others. The British analysts in New Delhi could not make sense of the PAF’s choice of Agra. In their report to London, they comically wrote, “we were puzzled to understand their [PAF’s] insistence on this [Agra] airfield and came to the conclusion that it could only be that the pilots wanted to see the Taj Mahal by moonlight”. ‘British High Commission, New Delhi to Ministry of Defence, London’, FCO 37/1166, 24 January 1972, UKNA.; If this was indeed the case, the PAF pilots would have been disappointed since the Taj was covered with “twigs and leaves so that its marble would not glow in the moonlight and draw attention”. T.V. Rajeswar, India: The Crucial Years, New Delhi: Harper Collins, 2015, p. 110. ‘Interview of Ambassador Eric Gonsalves by Ambassador Kishan S. Rana’, 2010, p. 51, available at www.icwa.in/WriteReadData/RTF1984/1497424125.pdf, accessed on 21 August 2019. Asif Mahfuz, ‘US Fleet in Bay of Bengal: A Game of Deception’, The Daily Star, 16 December 2013, www.thedailystar.net/news/us-fleet-in-bay-of-bengal-a-game­ of-deception, accessed on 21 August 2019. Ibid. Ibid. Raghavan, 1971, 2013, pp. 200–202. Sukhwant Singh, India’s Wars since Independence: The Liberation of Bangladesh, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 1980, p. 27. A similar mobilisation and offering of an ultimatum were seen even during the 1965 Indo-Pak war. Ibid, p. 39. Interview with Intelligence Studies Scholar, Dr. Prem Mahadevan, 27 February 2019. J.F.R. Jacob, An Odyssey in War and Peace, New Delhi: Roli Books, 2011, pp. 71–81. Harry Gelman, ‘The Soviet Far East Buildup and Soviet Risk-Taking Against China’, RAND Corporation, 1982, pp. 64, 84, available at https://apps.dtic.mil/ dtic/tr/fulltext/u2/a123838.pdf, accessed on 21 August 2019. ‘Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi’s Briefing on the Indo-Pakistan War’, US Department of State, Foreign Relations 1969–1976, Volume E-7, South Asia, 13 December 1971. A.K. Tiwary, ‘1971 Air War: Battle for Air Supremacy’, Indian Defence Review, 15 November 2017, available at www.indiandefencereview.com/spotlights/1971-a ir-war-battle-for-air-supremacy, accessed on 22 August 2019. Interview with former R&AW Additional Secretary – A1, 25 October 2018.

Gokhale, Gentleman Spymaster, 2019.

Interview with former R&AW Additional Secretary – A1, 25 October 2018.

Prasad, Official History of the 1971 India-Pakistan War, 1992, p. 289.

Ibid, pp. 797–798.

194 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises 125 Ibid. 126 Zorawar Daulet Singh, Power and Diplomacy: India’s Foreign Policies during the Cold War, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019, p. 221. 127 ‘Rationalisation of the Intelligence and Security Set-up’, Haksar Papers III Instal­ ment, Sub File No. 170, August 1971, NMML. 128 Ibid. 129 ‘Creation of the post of a Foreign Service Adviser at the Hqrs of the Research and Analysis Wing for maintaining liaison with the Ministry of External Affairs’, Haksar Papers III Instalment, Subject File 227, 1970, NMML. 130 Raman, The Kaoboys of R&AW, 2013, p. 46. 131 Depinder Singh, Indian Peacekeeping Force in Sri Lanka 1987–1989, Dehradun: Natraj Publishers, 2001, p. 163. 132 Roy, War in the Indian Ocean, 1995, p. 70. 133 Raman, Intelligence, 2002, p. 72.

References ‘British High Commission, New Delhi to Ministry of Defence, London’, FCO 37/ 1166, 24 January 1972, UKNA. ‘Indian Support for the East Pakistan Guerrillas’, FCO 37/919, 23 July 1971, UKNA. ‘Interview of Ambassador Eric Gonsalves by Ambassador Kishan S. Rana’, 2010, p. 51, available at www.icwa.in/WriteReadData/RTF1984/1497424125.pdf, accessed on 21 August 2019. ‘Kao to Haksar’, Haksar Papers III Instalment, Subject File 220, 4 August 1971, NMML. ‘Political Crisis in East Pakistan’, FCO 37/891, 1971, UKNA. ‘Political Crisis in East Pakistan’, FCO 37/892, 1971, UKNA. ‘Political Crisis in East Pakistan’, FCO 37/893, October 1971, UKNA. ‘Political Crisis in East Pakistan’, FCO 37/894, 15 October 1971, UKNA. ‘Political Crisis in East Pakistan’, FCO 37/894, 16 November 1971, UKNA. ‘Rameshwar Nath Kao, Secretary, Cabinet Secretariat and Director of General Security’, Leading Personalities in India, FCO 37/1923, 1977, UKNA. ‘Special Assessments of Situation between India and Pakistan (Guerrilla Activities)’, FCO 37/919, 1971, UKNA. ‘The Guerrillas and the Internal Political Situation’, FCO 37/920, 1 October 1971, UKNA. Arpi, Claude, ‘The Tibetans who Fought the 1971 War’, Tibet Sun, 10 January 2012, available at www.tibetsun.com/interviews/2012/01/10/the-tibetans-who­ fought-the-1971-war, accessed on 8 May 2019. Arshad Qureshi, Hakeem, The 1971 Indo-Pak War: A Soldier’s Narrative, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013. Balachandran, Vappala, National Security and Intelligence Management, New Delhi: Indus Source Books, 2014, p. 112. Barua Chowdhury, Prabir, ‘Phantoms in The Hills’, The Daily Star, 8 May 2019, available at www.thedailystar.net/wide-angle/phantoms-the-hills-168325, accessed on 8 May 2019. Bass, Gary J., The Blood Telegram: India’s Secret War in East Pakistan, Noida: Random House Publishers, 2013. Bhaumik, Subir, ‘The Ghosts of RAW’, News in Asia, 18 March 2017, available at https:// newsin.asia/the-ghosts-of-raw, accessed on 15 August 2019. Bhaumik, Subir, Insurgent Crossfire: North-east India, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 1996.

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Central Intelligence Agency, ‘Some Economic Consequences of Two Pakistans’, May 1971, available at www.cia.gov/library/readingroom/docs/CIA-RDP85T00875R00 1700010032-4.pdf, accessed on 28 June 2019. Central Intelligence Agency, ‘Jordan sent Jets to Pakistan despite Ban, U.S. confirms’, 19 April 1972, available at accessed www.cia.gov/library/readingroom/docs/ CIA-RDP80-01601R000300210006-3.pdf, on 21 August 2019. Dasgupta, Chandrashekhar, ‘The Decision to Intervene: First Steps in India’s Grand Strategy in the 1971 War’, Strategic Analysis, Vol. 40, No. 4, 2016. Daulet Singh, Zorawar, Power and Diplomacy: India’s Foreign Policies during the Cold War, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019. Dhar, M.K., Open Secrets: India’s Intelligence Unveiled, New Delhi: Manas Publications, 2012. Gelman, Harry, ‘The Soviet Far East Buildup and Soviet Risk-Taking Against China’, RAND Corporation, 1982, pp.64, 84, available at https://apps.dtic.mil/dtic/tr/full text/u2/a123838.pdf, accessed on 21 August 2019. Gibson, David J., ‘Shock and Awe: A Sufficient Condition for Victory?’, Naval War College Dissertation, 5 February 2001, pp. 9–10, available at https://apps.dtic.mil/ dtic/tr/fulltext/u2/a389508.pdf, accessed on 27 June 2019. Gokhale, Nitin A., R.N Kao: Gentleman Spymaster, New Delhi: Bloomsbury India, 2019. Haksar Papers, ‘Creation of the post of a Foreign Service Adviser at the Hqrs of the Research and Analysis Wing for maintaining liaison with the Ministry of External Affairs’, III Instalment, Subject File 227, 1970, NMML. Haksar Papers, ‘Opening of New Units of the R&AW in our Diplomatic Missions Abroad’, III Instalment, Sub File: 227, 23 June 1970, NMML. Haksar Papers, ‘Haksar to Gandhi’, III Instalment, Subject File 227, 1971, NMML. Haksar Papers, ‘Points which P.M. might consider making at the meeting of the Oppo­ sition Leaders, to be held on Friday, May 7, to consider the situation in Bangla Desh’, III Instalment, Subject File 220, 1971, NMML. Haksar Papers, ‘Sadiq to Gandhi’, III Instalment, Subject File 220, 1971, NMML. Haksar Papers, ‘SSB and Bangladesh’, III Instalment, Subject File 220, 1971, NMML. Haksar Papers, ‘Threat of a Military Attack or Infiltration Campaign by Pakistan’, III Instalment, Subject File 220, 1971, NMML. Haksar Papers, ‘Report from the Joint Director R&AW’, III Instalment, Subject File 227, 3 July 1971, NMML. Haksar Papers, ‘Rationalisation of the Intelligence and Security Set-up’, III Instalment, Sub File 170, August 1971, NMML. Haksar Papers, ‘Ministry of Information and National Affairs, External Publicity Wing, Government of India’, III Instalment, Subject File 220, 1 October 1971, NMML. Haksar Papers, ‘Letter from Habibur Rehman to Indira Gandhi’, III Instalment, Subject File 220, 1 November 1971, NMML. Herman, Michael, Intelligence in Peace and War, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999. Jacob, J.F.R., An Odyssey in War and Peace, New Delhi: Roli Books, 2011. Kak, Kapil, ‘Revisiting the 1971 War and the IAF’s Role: India’s Interests and Com­ pulsions’, in Jasjit Singh, Role of Indian Air Force in 1971 War, New Delhi: KW Publishers, 2013. Kohli, M.S. and Kenneth Conboy, Spies in the Himalayas: Secret Missions and Perilous Climbs, Kansas: University Press of Kansas, 2002. Kulkarni, R.N., Sin of National Conscience, Mysore: Kritagnya Publications, 2015, p.368. Lamb, Alistair, Kashmir: A Disputed Legacy, 1846–1990, Hertingfordbury: Roxford Books, 1991.

196 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Mahfuz, Asif, ‘US Fleet in Bay of Bengal: A Game of Deception’, The Daily Star, 16 December 2013, www.thedailystar.net/news/us-fleet-in-bay-of-bengal-a-game-of­ deception, accessed on 21 August 2019. McGranahan, Carole, Arrested Histories: Tibet, the CIA, and Memories of a Forgotten War, Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2010. Ministry of External Affairs, ‘Arshad Hussain’s Allegation’, Haksar Papers-III Instalment, Subject File 227, 1969, NMML. Ministry of External Affairs, ‘Chronology of principal events in Bangladesh’, File No. WII/105/16/71, NAI. Mohan Sinha, Braj, The Samba Spying Case, New Delhi: Vikas, 1981. Mullik, B.N., My Years with Nehru: 1948–1964, Bombay: Allied Publishers, 1972. Panthaki, Behram M. and Zenobia Panthaki, Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw: The Man and His Times, New Delhi: Niyogi Books, 2014. Prasad, S., Official History of the 1971 India-Pakistan War, New Delhi: Ministry of Defence, 1992. Raghavan, Srinath, 1971: A Global History of the Creation of Bangladesh, Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2013. Raja Mohan, C., ‘Foreign Policy after 1990’, in David Malone, C. Raja Mohan and Srinath Raghavan, The Oxford Handbook of Indian Foreign Policy, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015. Rajeswar, T.V., India: The Crucial Years, New Delhi: Harper Collins, 2015, p. 110. Raman, B., Intelligence: Past, Present and Future, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 2002. Raman, B., The Kaoboys of R&AW: Down Memory Lane, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 2013, p. 136. Ramesh, Jairam, Intertwined Lives: P.N. Haksar & Indira Gandhi, London: Simon and Schuster, 2018. Roy, Mihir K., War in the Indian Ocean, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 1995. Rustamji, K.F., The British, the Bandits and the Bordermen, New Delhi: Wisdom Tree, 2009. Samant, M.N.R. and Sandeep Unnithan, Operation-X: The Untold Story of India’s Covert War in Bangladesh, New Delhi: Harper Collins, 2019. Sankaran Nair, K., Inside IB and RAW: The Rolling Stone that Gathered Moss, New Delhi: Manas Publications, 2016. Singh, Arvindar, Myths and Realities of Security and Public Affairs, New Delhi: Ocean Books, 2011. Singh, Depinder, Indian Peacekeeping Force in Sri Lanka 1987–1989, Dehradun: Natraj Publishers, 2001. Singh, Natwar, One Life is Not Enough: An Autobiography, New Delhi: Rupa & Co., 2014. Singh, Sukhwant, India’s Wars since Independence: The Liberation of Bangladesh, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 1980. Sirrs, Owen L., Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence Directorate: Covert Action and Internal Operations, London: Routledge, 2016. Swami, Praveen, India, Pakistan and the Secret Jihad, London: Routledge, 2006, p. 120. Thurston, Anne F. and Gyalo Thondup, The Noodle Maker of Kalimpong: The Untold Story of My Struggle for Tibet, Gurgaon: Random House India, 2016. Tiwary, A.K., ‘1971 Air War: Battle for Air Supremacy’, Indian Defence Review, 15 November 2017, available at www.indiandefencereview.com/spotlights/1971-air-war­ battle-for-air-supremacy/0, accessed on 22 August 2019. US Department of State, ‘Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi’s Briefing on the IndoPakistan War’, Foreign Relations1969–1976, Volume E-7, South Asia, 13 December 1971.

7

Surprise on the Kargil Hilltops Prognostication of the Irrational

Introduction On 2 May 1999 Tashi Namgyal, a Buddhist shepherd, had gone hunting for his missing yak. As he viewed through his binoculars, he noticed groups of men digging bunkers along the Jubbar Langpa, a stream that runs down from the glaciers along the Line of Control (LOC) towards Batalik, a town in Ladakh. Strange, it seemed to him. There were no footprints leading to the spot. That is when their Pathan suits and camouflage outfit began to ignite suspicions of an enemy ‘intrusion’. He promptly reported to the local Indian Army post and later guided about 20–25 Indian soldiers to the spot.1 It took time for the Indian Army to understand the exact magnitude of the intrusion. In eight days, a limited war broke out between India and Pakistan. Although India emerged victorious on 26 July, the fact that India was caught off-guard was not lost on the public. The question: was it an intelligence failure that caught India by surprise? Unlike the 1962 and the 1971 wars, the Kargil War was not preceded by a crisis period. A series of political and security developments had taken place in the subcontinent in the decades preceding the Kargil war, which had led the Indian political and military leadership to rule out the possibility of a war with Pakistan. In 1998 both India and Pakistan had tested their nuclear weapons. For the political leadership, the nuclear tests gave an opportunity to initiate dialo­ gue with Pakistan. Consequently, Indian Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee, terming the nuclear weapons as ‘weapons of peace’, proposed to his Pakistani counterpart a diplomatic peace initiative, which became renowned known as ‘Lahore Bus Diplomacy’. In February 1999 Vajpayee became the first Indian Prime Minister to travel to Pakistan by bus, thereby officially inaugurating the bus service between Amritsar and Lahore. These political developments had generated a huge public euphoria in both countries. The Indian Army too coincidentally had ruled out war with Pakistan owing to a predictive assessment model named Operation TOPAC. This aspect will be examined in detail later. For now, we shall briefly try to understand the ‘irrationality’ aspect in Pakistan’s actions that forms the centrepiece of the 1999 surprise. The Kargil hilltops were critical from an Indian security point of view as they overlooked the National Highway 1‑A that connected Srinagar with Leh DOI: 10.4324/9781003296195-11

198 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises (Figure 7.1). This road, being the sole lifeline for Indian troops posted to the north, was previously subject to Pakistani artillery shelling. However, given the strategic significance of the road to India and a concern that any military adventurism in this region could spiral into an all-out war, Pakistan had made no attempts to physically capture the road. Likewise, India had also believed that the high mountain terrain would not allow such an attempt to succeed. Therefore, in effect, both from an Indian and Pakistani point of view, med­ dling with the status quo in Kargil appeared ‘irrational’. This perception had led to a habitual withdrawal of Indian troops from Kargil during the winters to avoid weather related casualties, which was known to the civilian and military leaderships of both countries. In 1999, nevertheless, the ‘irrational’ was attempted and it was precisely the winter withdrawal that Pakistan exploited to occupy the Kargil heights. In this chapter, we shall begin by understanding the consumer’s mindset and the reasons for the prevailing cognitive traps. It came in the form of an analytical/ predictive model known as Operation TOPAC. We shall first examine how the

Figure 7.1 Jammu and Kashmir region depicting Kargil and the Northern Areas Source: Author

Surprise on the Kargil Hilltops

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Indian Army came to accept this predictive model, which requires an examination of the Pakistani Inter-Services Intelligence’s (ISI) covert action policies in Afgha­ nistan and India. This foundation should then enable us to examine the role of the Indian intelligence agencies in estimating Pakistan’s intentions. Like the previous two chapters, this chapter also argues that the surprise was an outcome of both intelligence and policy failures.

The Soviet-Afghan War and the ISI’s Role in Pakistan’s Foreign Policy towards India The 1970s witnessed the emergence of the ISI in South Asian affairs like never before. On the one hand, Pakistani leaders like Zulfikar Ali Bhutto empowered the agency towards clandestine procurement of nuclear weapons in the aftermath of the 1971 defeat.2 Bhutto’s successor General Zia-ul Haq further strengthened the ISI’s role in domestic politics and foreign policy.3 On the other hand, regional geopolitical shifts caused by the Iranian revolution and Soviet invasion of Afgha­ nistan made Pakistan the U.S.’s frontline ally in Afghanistan. Under such circum­ stances, with the support of the Americans, the ISI began to master the art of covert action.4 The net effect of these changes, most importantly ISI’s covert war in Afghanistan, began to significantly influence Indian assessments of Pakistan. The Soviet-Afghan War (1979–89) originated as a covert war authorised by President Jimmy Carter, and later pursued by Ronald Reagan. The key role played by American political personalities like Senator Charlie Wilson is well recorded.5 The purpose of the war was to weaken the Soviet-Afghan com­ munist party alliance by inflicting a heavy toll on the Soviet resources and capabilities. Although several U.S. allies participated in this covert war, Washington chose Pakistan as the key partner, owing to the latter’s proximity and direct interests in Afghan affairs. Together, the ISI and the CIA, enabled the Mujahideen to successfully defeat the Red Army in 1989. However, owing to the disproportionate influence of Pakistan in shaping American strategies in Afghanistan, some observers have termed the Soviet-Afghan War as “Zia’s War”.6 On instructions from Zia, the ISI chief Lieutenant General Akhtar Abdul Rahman had strategized the Afghan War, which was proposed to, and accepted by, the U.S. According to Steve Coll: “Zia told Akhtar that it was his job to draw the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) in and hold them at bay… No American – CIA or otherwise – would be allowed to cross the border into Afghanistan”.7 It was the impact of this pivotal position of the ISI in the Afghan War that shaped the security affairs of the subcontinent from 1979 onwards. Most importantly, it impacted the Indian Army’s assessment of the Pakistani threat. The first important benefit the ISI reaped from its involvement in the Afghan War was an invaluable experience and resources to sustain a covert campaign. These factors were simultaneously put to use against India in the

200 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises provinces of Punjab and Kashmir where domestic political discrepancies had given rise to secessionist movements.8 Exploitation of India’s political and communal faultlines was integral to Pakistan’s foreign and security policies since its inception in 1947. Born as a doctrine developed by the Director of Paki­ stan’s Intelligence Bureau (IB), Qurban Ali, Pakistan believed that a sub-con­ ventional offensive was the best way to ensure defence against India. The works of Christine Fair also indicate that Pakistani military journals are rife with articles that sustain and promote this line of thought.9 India, given its diversity, was mired by a host of economic and political problems, which resulted in separatist movements in Kashmir and the NorthEast. These fault lines presented numerous opportunities for Pakistan to test its strategy of sub-conventional offensive, which was termed “an informal war” by Prime Minster Nehru.10 However, its results were far from satisfactory, and the loss of territory in 1971 further curtailed Pakistan’s ability to conduct covert operations in India. Hence, for a nation frustrated by failed covert actions, the Afghan War served as a valuable training ground. The lessons learnt in the Afghan theatre were immediately employed in India’s Punjab and Kashmir provinces. The second factor critical to the ISI’s emergence during the Afghan War was the monetary benefits. An informal channel known as the “Afghan Pipeline” was established between the CIA and the ISI through which money and weapons were supplied to the Mujahideen. The proceeds from this pipeline were diversified by the ISI to equip militants in Punjab and Kashmir.11 While the financial benefits from the Afghan Pipeline were significant by themselves, the ISI had also found another source of revenue generation in narcotics.12 Narcotics cultivation, and its illicit trade, was critical for the ISI since it facili­ tated the procurement of nuclear material.13 The U.S. had deliberately turned a blind eye towards the ISI’s narcotics trade since the drugs were affecting the Soviet troops in Afghanistan. Nonetheless, the impact of the narcotics trade was felt on India too.14 Punjab became the hub of drug trade, which has had a destructive impact on the economy of the state.15 Indian intelligence was aware of the impact of the “Golden Crescent” region, with efforts to check crossborder smuggling of drugs commencing along the porous borders between India and Pakistan.16 The third and related impact of the financial benefits of the Afghan War to the ISI was the emergence of Pakistan Army as a potent force in Pakistan’s political economy. From 1981 onwards, the Pakistan Army’s influence on for­ eign and security policymaking had been predominant, while some direct and indirect interference in economic policies have also been observed.17 Also, the involvement of Pakistani Army officers in the narcotics trade led to rampant allegations of corruption, which the Army could brush aside as the Martial Law was in place.18 Although the situation tightened for the Army after Zia’s death in 1988, when Benazir Bhutto was sworn in as the Prime Minister, the power and position occupied in the preceding decade gave the ISI and the Army unhindered influence over policies. Immediately on taking office, rifts emerged

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between Benazir and the Army on several issues, mainly nuclear and economic policies. Such differences led to internecine battles between the military and civilian intelligence organisations.19 Eventually the civilian leadership had to concede control over foreign and security policies, to an extent economic policy too, to the Army. This is why it is described that Islamabad is the poli­ tical capital of Pakistan, while foreign and security policies – especially towards Afghanistan and India – are formulated in Rawalpindi.20 As a result of these developments, the ISI’s covert war in Kashmir continued even under civilian leaders. Above all, towards the final phases of the Afghan war, the ISI was able to borrow a small number of the fighters from the Afghan theatre and provide battlefield experience to several Pakistan based terrorist cadres of the Lashkar-e-Toiba and Jaish-e-Mohammed for deployment in Kashmir.21 While these developments were underway, India was engaged in preparation of a framework for analysing the threat posed by Pakistan. New Delhi had spent about a decade fighting Pakistan sponsored militancy in Punjab and was now starring at a deteriorating situation in Kashmir. On the basis of the aspects observed in this section regarding the ISI’s evolution as a covert action agency, Indian military analysts were developing a model of assessment to predict Pakistan’s future behaviour. The Research and Analysis Wing (R&AW), meanwhile, procured a vital piece of intelligence that further shaped the military analysts’ predictive assessment model. This model was Operation TOPAC, which was to have a direct impact on the Kargil surprise.

Operation TOPAC: The Indian Army’s Framework for Analysis By the early 90s, India had sufficiently understood Pakistan’s reliance on covert operations as a matter of foreign policy. Punjab had witnessed high levels of violence, which eventually led to the assassination of Indira Gandhi. A combi­ nation of political and security policies helped New Delhi curtail militancy in Punjab.22 However, the centre of gravity was beginning to shift towards Kashmir. In 1987, the first batch of Kashmiri youth had crossed over the LOC into Pakistan Occupied Kashmir (POK) and received arms training that gave birth to a long war of attrition with the Indian security forces. In April 1988 President Zia had called a top-level meeting to discuss Pakistan’s Kashmir strategy – the details of which were procured by the R&AW. Combined with this intelligence report, a war game conducted by the analysts of the Indian Defence Review produced a threat assessment report titled Operation TOPAC.23 The analysts drafting the assessment framework under Operation TOPAC held that covert operations in Kashmir would be inspired by the successes in Afghanistan against the Red Army. Yet, Pakistan would be cautioned by the experiences of the 1965 Indo-Pak War. In 1965, Pakistan had launched an illplanned offensive against India under the assumption that the Kashmiris were disgruntled with the Indian state and would, thus, welcome the invaders.24 However, the Kashmiris sided entirely with India, which left Pakistan with

202 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises none of its war objectives accomplished. Therefore, as per Operation TOPAC, Zia had planned to execute the occupation of Kashmir in three phases. Phase 1 was envisaged to be a preparatory stage aimed at subverting the population and key state government institutions.25 Operatives in this phase were cautioned to minimise violence to tolerable levels in order to deter New Delhi from taking over the state administration. Phase II was predicted to involve the infiltration of Afghan mercenaries from POK to conduct sabotage operations and diversionary attacks. The 1965 war had taught Pakistan that the locals were unreliable, and hence, Afghan mercenaries needed to be trained to carry out focused missions. In this phase, operations were planned even in Punjab and adjacent areas of Jammu and Kashmir (J&K) to stretch the Indian forces across different theatres.26 However, it should be noted that, in reality, Pakistan did not use Afghans in J&K. The infiltrating militants were mostly composed of Pakistani Punjabis and Pashtuns from the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa region of Pakistan who were called mehmaan mujahideen (guest mujahideen).27 The final stage, Phase 3, envisaged the “liberation of the Kashmir Valley and the establishment of an independent Islamic state”.28 It was only in this phase that any direct military offensive was envisaged by the Pakistan Army. It was nonetheless conditioned upon significant weakening of the Indian Army, owing to counter-insurgency (COIN) responsibilities, reserves bogged down in Sri Lanka – on a peacekeeping mission – and, China tying down Indian troops on the Sino-Indian border. In the worst-case scenario, Pakistan expected China and other friends to intervene militarily to at least ensure a stalemate, if not victory.29 Therefore, as per the Operation TOPAC assessment framework, ‘infiltration’ of mercenaries in pursuit of a covert proxy war was definite and underway, while ‘invasion/intrusion’ still seemed distant. An IB report of 1994 on the ISI’s activities also indicated that events were well within the purview of Operation TOPAC. On the basis of interrogations of captured militants and seized documents in Punjab, Kashmir and the Northeast, the IB had concluded that Pakistan was providing sanctuary, weap­ ons and training to sustain a proxy war in Kashmir.30 Even international observers of the Indo-Pak security situation have concluded that prior to the Kargil War, Pakistan’s involvement in Kashmir was thought to be based on a degree of plausible deniability to sustain favourable international opinion.31 Hence, the predictive assessment model devised under Operation TOPAC held that unless the situation on the ground was absolutely conducive for an ‘intru­ sion’, the ISI would be used to conduct ‘infiltration’ of militants for terrorism in Kashmir, and events until 1998 had proven this premise to be correct. The 1998 nuclear tests further emboldened the political and military leadership’s faith in the validity of Operation TOPAC. Despite such theoretical as well as empirical soundness of Operation TOPAC, there was one major flaw in it. That is, it worked on a strong assumption of ‘rationality’. Before we examine how this had an impact on India’s decision making prior to the war, let us first observe why and how Pakistan attempted the ‘irrational’.

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Pakistan’s raison d’être for the Kargil Misadventure To discover the roots of the Kargil War, it is essential to recall the divergence between Islamabad and Rawalpindi as demonstrated in one of the earlier sec­ tions. Following the demise of Zia, the differences between the Army and the civilian leadership had become more pronounced. More than policy differ­ ences, the gulf was accentuated by their personal experiences that shaped their perception of India. The Pakistani Army’s perception as the protector of the Islamic ideology and the two-nation theory that gave birth to Pakistan, forms the basis for its policies towards India.32 With every defeat against India, it was this status as a protector that was perceivably questioned. Hence, the frustration in the aftermath of the 1971 defeat explains Pakistan’s quest for nuclear weap­ ons. After 1971, the next event that humiliated the Pakistani Army, especially in the eyes of the civilian politicians, was the Indian pre-emptive capture of the Siachen glacier in 1984. The capture of the Siachen glacier coinciding with the Pakistan Army’s tussle with Benazir Bhutto had provoked the latter to taunt the Army as “fit only to fight its own citizens”.33 General Zia’s high-level meeting organised in 1985 to consider probable responses to the Indian action in Siachen witnessed the first mention of Kargil as a potential area of operation.34 The National Highway 1-A that connected Sri­ nagar to Leh was the sole artery sustaining the Indian troops in Siachen. Hence, Pakistani military planners in that meeting proposed several means of choking the highway in order to make way for a ground assault on Siachen. The noteworthy aspect of this meeting was the caution expressed by the pre-1965 war officers, as opposed to the enthusiasm of the post-1965 officers.35 The old guards were opposed to the idea as they were certain that any action in Kargil would lead to an all-out war with India. Hence, Zia discarded the plans. Since no approval was given until his death in 1988, covert operations continued over the next decade without any real attempts made to capture territory. In October 1998, General Parvez Musharraf, one of the post-1965 officers who had shown enthusiasm for the Kargil plan during the 1985 meeting, was appointed as the Chief of Army Staff.36 Like divergences in policy priorities between the Army and the civilian leadership, the implications of the nuclear tests were also expressed differently by Islamabad and Rawalpindi. While the tests made way for initiation of a peace dialogue for the civilians, Musharraf saw them as guarantors against an Indian response to Pakistani military adventur­ ism.37 By mid-November 1998, Lieutenant General Mahmud Ahmed, the ten Corps Commander, presented to Musharraf a plan for Kargil in the presence of the Chief of General Staff Lieutenant General Mohammed Aziz. The com­ mander of the division sized Force Command Northern Areas, Major General Javed Hassan, was later brought in on the plan. Thereon, the entire Kargil plan, christened as Operation Koh-e-Paima/Badr, was conducted in extreme secrecy by these four officers. By December Prime Minister Sharif was informally briefed on the plan, but the briefing was in English and loaded with military jargon that Sharif could make no sense of its escalatory probabilities.38

204 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Therefore, while a historic peace dialogue was underway, a small group of officers – the core group – were operating in its direct contravention, and soon its ‘irrationality’ was obvious to the other services. To understand why such an irrational possibility could not have appealed to the Indian military minds, an expansion of this matter is in order. It is here that the Kargil War is actually comparable to the 1973 Yom Kippur War. Interest­ ingly, even the Egyptian attack of 1973 was also termed “Operation Badr”.39 Reflecting on the Arab surprise, Henry Kissinger noted that “our definition of rationality did not take seriously the notion of starting an unwinnable war to restore self-respect”.40 For the Pakistani Army, especially Musharraf, the loss of Siachen was seen in emotional terms and the Kargil operation was partly meant to redeem its honour.41 Therefore, the Kargil operation emerged largely from an emotional basis rather than military logic. The ‘military logic’ part of this assertion that actually establishes the ‘irrationality’ part of the war needs further elaboration and is presented below. The Kargil region was, neither demographically nor topographically, conducive for any Pakistani military action. As observed earlier, it was absolutely essential for the Pakistan Army to be ensured of local support to undertake any offensive action in Kashmir. The Kargil region, however, could never have fulfilled this condition as the local populace was largely Shia Muslims who had never supported the Kashmiri separatist movement, which was mostly led by the Sunnis.42 This meant that the Pakistani forces invading Kargil were on their own, and the mammoth preparations to this end would invariably be discovered by the Indian intelligence. Topographically, the region was a victim of harsh weather conditions, espe­ cially in the winters. This had led to a habitual winter withdrawal by the Indian Army and repositioning in the summers. The Indian assumption that Pakistan would not risk the winters to occupy the Kargil heights bears resemblance with the World War II British Imperial Army’s assumption that the Malayan jungles forbade tank warfare. The arrival of the Japanese tanks surprised the British, which eventually led to the surrender of 130,000 well-equipped British, Aus­ tralian and Indian soldiers to just 35,000 Japanese soldiers.43 Unlike the British assumption which was heavily invested on geographical challenges, the Indian assumption of ‘irrationality’ was also supported by a past experience. In 1993 a similar attempt to scale the Kargil heights by Pakistan during the winters had resulted in 27 casualties and no attempt had been made ever since.44 Hence, with neither demographic nor topographic feasibility, Musharraf launched a militarily impossible operation that was bound to fail. Other than the emotional motivations over the loss of Siachen, there was one other factor driving the Kargil misadventure. The Pakistani Army has regularly suffered from a deep-seated superiority complex that has historically led it to undertake one futile operation after another since 1947. The roots of this superiority complex lie in the ‘martial race theory’ developed by the British in colonial India to which both the Indian and Pakistani armies trace their DNA. The martial race theory served the British well since classification of the uneducated peasantry as martials allowed them to be employed as loyal soldiers,

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while the categorisation of the educated Indians as non-martials allowed them to justify ‘British only’ representation in officer ranks.45 As the post-colonial states developed their armies, the Indian Army tried to “demythologise the concept of martial races”, while Pakistan continued with the practice.46 Under Ayub Khan, the first military ruler of Pakistan, the idea of martial superiority gained a religious expression. The Indian Army, which was referred as Hindu Army, was perceived as the weaker one since Muslim soldiers were considered to be stronger fighters. Hence, the 1965 war that Pakistan lost to India was based on Ayub’s assumption that “the Hindu morale would not stand more than a couple of hard blows delivered at the right time and place”.47 Even during the 1971 war, when Kissinger inquired with Yahya how he planned to tackle India’s superior capabilities, the latter, along with his leading Generals, pointed to the historic superiority of Muslim fighters.48 The experi­ ences of 1965 had imbibed a sense of rationality among some officers. How­ ever, even this was relegated by the comprehensive Islamisation process that took place under General Zia since the early 1980s. Alongside the rampant belief in this alleged superiority over the Hindu, operational planning had also begun to hinge on ostensible divine interference. Observing the army’s failure in the proxy war in Kashmir, Pakistani security analyst Shuja Nawaz has observed that, owing to the effects of Zia’s Islamic teachings on the military, “cold military logic had been replaced by Islamic slogans and prayers”.49 In the early 1990s induction of the Mujahideen into Kashmir was barely scrutinised from an operational perspective. Rather the briefings were prefaced by phrases like, “by the grace of God, we will put 10,000 rounds over there and Inshallah the enemy will be routed”.50 Given the scale of Indian Army’s manpower, it is impossible to either believe that 10,000 rounds would rout them, or that the Mujahideen’s purported superior fighting abilities could win a war of attrition. Consequently, when the inevitable occurred, conclusions were that “god’s grace” cannot be quantified and the dead were lucky to have embraced shahadat (martyrdom).51 The planning of the Kargil operation was no different. Whenever the field commanders raised concerns over possible Indian reactions, the core group convinced them that “the timid Indians will never fight the battle”, “Hindustani kadi jang nahi laray ga” (“The Indians will not fight back”).52 Therefore, the foundations of the Kargil plan stood on the emotions of Siachen’s loss and a supposed martial superiority of the Pakistanis. In such a scenario, the core group needed resistance from other sections of the Pakistani armed forces and civil society who would have probably thought that military operations in Kargil were suicidal. However, the war preparations were conducted in utmost secrecy with no objective scrutiny of the operational plans. Given that the diplomatic peace process was underway, Musharraf had to plan and execute the Kargil operation away from both public scrutiny as well as his own professional peers. Intelligence basis for the operation was also weak since Lieutenant-General Ziauddin Butt, Director-General of the ISI, was considered to be close to Prime Minister Sharif.53 The implications of such

206 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises fractures in Pakistan’s politics at that time on India’s assessments will be observed in the next section. Suffice here to mention that the operational plans had little advice from outside the core group. The entire operation was to be conducted by troops already posted on the borders, with support from the Northern Light Infantry (NLI) – a paramilitary force operationally under the army. All discussions regarding the operation were secretly held defying the standard operational procedures. The secret meetings and troop movements in the borders were explained to suspecting peers as innocuous exercises aimed at probing the maintenance of summer troop levels in the winters.54 Even the other services were kept out of the Kargil plan. In March 1999 the Pakistan Air Force (PAF) was contacted for the first time for some classified information concerning the fuel storage capacity at Skardu, radar coverage and so on. Although the Army covered up these requests as “part of routine con­ tingency planning”, the PAF still conducted its own investigation and con­ cluded that “something big is imminent”.55 During the official briefing on 12 May, the PAF raised several questions regarding the feasibility of the Army’s plan in Kargil with the limited employability sought of the PAF. Lt-Gen. Mahmud Ahmed reportedly rebuffed the probing questions of the PAF and commented that: “Come October, we shall walk into Siachen – to mop up the dead bodies of hundreds of Indians left hungry, out in the cold”.56 With nothing substantial emerging from the PAF’s probing questions, Group Captain Kaiser Tufail, then Director of Operations in the PAF, recalled Air Commodore Abid Rao, Assistant Chief of Air Staff - Operations, quip as they left the briefing room that, “after this operation, it’s going to be either a Court Martial or Martial Law!”57 A deception plan was also in place, which catered to both the Indian intel­ ligence as well as the Pakistani political leadership. The NLI troops across the Kargil sector spoke in Pashtu, Balti, Shina and other local dialects in order to convince Indian radio interceptors as well as Islamabad that the parties operat­ ing in the sector were the Mujahideen.58 That the Indian troops were to be deceived is naturally understandable, what is also interesting is how the idea of the Mujahideen was sold to Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif. As the Kargil plan was revealed to Sharif in March 1999, Musharraf enticed the former into believing that the Mujahideen occupying the Kargil heights were in a position to liberate Kashmir and that history would hail Sharif as the “liberator of Kashmir”, making him the most important figure in Pakistan after Mohammed Ali Jinnah.59 An impressionable Sharif needed no more assurances of the plan’s success. Thus, against the veil of deception, a promising diplomatic peace initiative, and an ‘irrational’ operational planning, the Indian defence planners, who were relying on a ‘rational’ predictive framework, were in effect expecting the Indian intelligence agencies to uncover the Kargil plot.

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A final point that would establish the heights of ‘irrationality’ employed in the Kargil operation involves the number of posts established on the hilltops. The original plan was to establish 10–12 posts in one sector of Kargil. However, once the operations commenced, lured by the vacancy of unmanned territory, the number of posts transformed into 140 posts in the Dras, Mushkoh, Kaksar, Batalik and Chorbat La sectors of Kargil, spreading across 65 miles in depth and 5–6 miles in width.60 There seems to have been no thought extended to defending these positions once the superior Indian Army brought its force to bear. Presenting fixed targets was neither an operationally adept strategy nor could it sustain the Mujahideen cover story since infiltrators/militants were known for ‘hit and run’ tactics, not positional warfare. Ergo, military logic had been surrendered to territorial greed under a false hope of fait accompli. With this background, we shall now examine where the Indian intelligence faltered in predicting the Kargil operation.

Indian Intelligence Estimates of Pakistan’s Intentions From the above description, it is clear that there were two aspects to the events unfolding in 1999. One was political – the failure of the diplomatic peace process. The other was military – the occupation of the Kargil hilltops. We shall first observe the Indian intelligence assessment of the bus diplomacy, fol­ lowed by the intelligence inputs on Pakistan’s military plans.

Indian Intelligence Assessment of the Bus Diplomacy To understand the degree of expectations prevalent on the intelligence agen­ cies, especially the R&AW, to produce political intelligence on Pakistan, it is critical to examine the true impact of the diplomatic peace process on the Indian policymakers. This will lay the foundation for comprehending the intelligence-policy relationship and debunk the commonly held myth that the R&AW failed to correctly estimate Pakistan’s intentions. The nuclearization of the subcontinent had instilled within the Indian politico-strategic community a strong sense of optimism over the peace process. For instance, K. Subrahmanyam, who had been an advocate of breaking up Pakistan in 1971, calling it the “opportunity of the century”, had remarked on the eve of Vajpayee’s visit to Pakistan that India should learn to live with Pakistan’s “Kashmir rhetoric” because, “(when) nuclear weapon states decide to live as equal sovereign states in a mutually beneficial eco­ nomic and security framework, there are endless possibilities of progress for both”.61 Vajpayee himself had described the atomic bombs as “weapons of peace”. Amid such euphoria and optimism, the pre-existing perception that the Pakistani Punjabi mindset posed a perennial threat to India was lost on the nation’s intelligentsia.62 Even Indian journalists who covered the opinions of Pakistani strategic community had arrived at similar conclusions. It is important to note here that both the Indian and Pakistani agencies regularly use journalists for influence

208 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises operations; although the latter is far less tolerant of reportage that is critical of Pakistan’s policies.63 Nonetheless, one Indian journalist, Sushant Sareen, who vis­ ited Pakistan during that time, had met with former ISI officials like Hamid Gul and Assad Durrani – renowned for active sponsorship of terrorism in India during their tenures. The conclusion Sareen drew from his meetings was that “there would never be war between India and Pakistan” and the period of animosity had passed.64 Looking back, given that none outside Musharraf’s clique had an inkling of the Kargil plan, the euphoria shared by the Pakistani strategic community can be deemed genuine. Thus, the collective feeling in the subcontinent regarding the peace process was generally exultant. The Indian intelligence community, how­ ever, did not exhibit similar naivete. However, their scepticism required hard evidence to convince the policymakers of the same. The strength of evidence required for the Indian intelligence to convince the political leadership of the futility of the peace process can only be understood by someone who understands the nature of Indian politics. In a democratic system like India, where national security issues like Pakistan are a potent force in electoral politics, the euphoric reaction to the diplomatic process was a welcome move for the ruling dispensation. On examination of the evidence procured from the Kargil Review Committee (KRC) report as well as personal interviews with intelligence officers, it appears that there were indicators that raised doubts over the peace initiative, but nothing was conclusive to expose the developments in Kargil. In the narrative offered below to illustrate the nature of Indian intelligence reporting on Pakistan’s intentions, concomitant explanations on the position of the R&AW prior to the Kargil War also follow in order to better interpret the failure. This shows a marked return from the 1971 case to 1962 case at both operational and policy levels. Right from its inception, Pakistan and China were the R&AW’s top priorities, reflecting India’s major national security concerns. The previous chapter had explained how the creation of R&AW had eliminated several constraints that were evident during the 1962 war. However, owing to a series of political and strategic changes in the years after 1971, the R&AW’s capabilities had somewhat returned to the pre-1971 situation. A political decision by Prime Minister Indira Gandhi to declare a state of emergency (1975–77) – considered one of the darkest hours of Indian democracy – had bitter ramifications on foreign intelli­ gence. The generic perception was that the R&AW, which was Indira’s creation, was employed as her secret police to monitor political opponents during the emergency.65 This was far from the truth. In fact, contrary to the popular per­ ceptions of all-weather friendship between Indira and Kao – the first chief of R&AW – Indira was ruffled over Kao’s disagreement to advise her regarding the emergency. When she returned to power in 1980, it took the persuasion of persuasion of A.C.N. Nambiar, during her visit to Zurich, to reinstate Kao as security advisor.66 Nevertheless, the Janata Government that came to power in 1977 suspected an R&AW hand in the emergency and, therefore, drastically cut short the organisation’s capabilities. Despite not finding any evidence of the agency’s involvement in domestic political intelligence, the chief’s designation

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was downgraded from Secretary to Director, which resulted in the then chief Sankaran Nair’s resignation. Simultaneously, drastic budget cuts resulted in the closure of several stations and the dismissal of 600 operatives.67 With the agency’s top leadership engaged in a battle for survival, from 1977 onwards there were unfortunate reports of personnel defection, misbehaviour and indiscipline by senior officers posted abroad that further damaged the agency’s reputation. Improper personnel management also led to a strike in 1980, organised by a union within the agency, that was quelled with the help of the Delhi police.68 These instances resulted in recruitment being stopped for seven years, and many talented personnel being shown the door.69 Hence, by the time the Kargil war broke out, it is important to note that the R&AW was resembling the 1962 ‘low resources-high expectations’ IB. By the early 90s, while the agency’s responsibilities included the enemy’s poli­ tical, economic and military intelligence as well as counterterrorism, its resources kept crippling as the Indian economy was in a sombre state. Provision of loans by the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund were conditional on structural adjustments, which compelled the Indian intelligence agencies to prac­ tice fiscal austerity in the generic climate of budget tightening.70 Therefore, by 1999, organisationally, the R&AW had suffered severe cutbacks that were bound to have operational ramifications. Yet, considering Pakistan to be the agency’s top priority, important human and technical assets were focused on Pakistan, and political and economic assessments were arguably satisfactory.71 When the diplomatic peace process was underway, the Indian intelligence treaded a cautious step, being careful not to be carried away by public euphoria. A senior R&AW officer at the Pakistan desk during that time recalled that the agency had acquired certain indicators, which reiterated the longstanding differ­ ences between the civilian and military leadership in Pakistan; a hint that the peace process was not viewed equally by both parties.72 In February 1999 the agency reported that senior army officers in the General Headquarters still believed that a favourable deal with India can be attained only from a position of strength.73 This analysis was not drawn on the basis of any specific intelligence but a regular assessment of Pakistan’s polity.74 Nevertheless, the assessment was shared with the secretaries of all key departments, the National Security Council Secretariat (NSCS) and the IB.75 The R&AW’s argument that Pakistan Army’s strategic leadership did not view the nuclearization of the subcontinent and the ensuing peace process positively was consistent since 1998; and it is this aspect that reflects the flawed intelligence-policy relationship and connects with the cultural argument of this book. To better understand this aspect, it is also to be noted that similar warnings were given by the IB and the Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC). The IB had reported to Home Minister L.K. Advani that unusual activities – described in the next section – around the LOC were not in consonance with the government’s views.76 The JIC, notwithstanding its limited influence in the system, noted in its February 1999 report that “the euphoria about the PM’s visit to Lahore notwithstanding”, no change was visible in Pakistan’s attitude

210 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises towards “India or the Kashmir issue”.77 Therefore, despite visible reductions in the capabilities of the R&AW, sufficient warning was provided by the Indian intelligence agencies to cast aspersions on the peace process. The fact that these reports had no influence on policy is reflective of the issues with intelligence-policy relationship in India. Both Vajpayee and Advani were ministers from the 1977 Janata era that had suspected an R&AW hand in the emergency. Sankaran Nair, the then R&AW chief had struggled to win the confidence of the two ministers. Vajpayee, the then Minister of External Affairs, had accused the R&AW chief of fabricating reports concerning Nepal. The matter was settled only when Nair revealed that the information was procured through SIGINT, which could not be fabricated.78 After similar encounters with several other officers, Vajpayee gradually began appreciating the work of the agency.79 Likewise, Advani had also come in with prejudices against the R&AW, which Nair had to get rid of. Advani later thanked Nair and said: “I was told by my party people and others that your organisation was Mrs. Gandhi’s secret police in the country. You have educated me and I accept that R&AW is essential to keep the Government posted with developments abroad regarding the activities of unfriendly countries”.80 Thus, by 1999 there was a marked change in Vajpayee and Advani’s attitude towards intelligence. This is captured by the following statements made by A. S. Dulat and Vikram Sood, two R&AW chiefs, who served during that era. According to them, Vajpayee, Advani and George Fernandes – the three senior leaders of the time – met every day, showed keen interest in intelli­ gence briefings and tasked the agencies in line with their requirements. Yet, when it came to the question of assessing the implications of the nuclear tests and the subsequent diplomatic peace initiative, decision making was largely arbitrary.81 Vikram Sood recalled that the R&AW was neither consulted before embarking on the Bus Diplomacy, nor was the agency, in the interim, asked to produce an assessment of Pakistan’s intentions.82 The officers further emphasised that “there is no one to stop them from taking decisions without consulting you [the intelligence agencies]”. These comments, alongside the evidence produced earlier regarding the intelligence community’s scepticism over the peace process, highlights the failure of the policymakers to pay attention to strategic intelligence. Therefore, the twin factors of political and public euphoria over the peace process, combined with the political leadership’s arbitrary consultation of stra­ tegic intelligence, ensured that the intelligence reportage casting suspicions on Pakistan’s intentions fell on deaf ears. Against this backdrop, what the Indian intelligence required to avert the Kargil surprise was military intelligence. The next sub-section thus investigates the state of strategic military intelligence prior to the Kargil War.

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Strategic Intelligence and Defence Planning in the Kargil Sector While the political leadership’s failure to accept strategic intelligence is fairly straightforward, the question of military surprise at Kargil is quite a challenging puzzle to solve. In 1998, after Musharraf became the Pakistan Army chief, a report was produced by a senior Indian Army officer for the Director-General of Military Intelligence (DGMI) which predicted military adventurism. The officer was tasked to produce the report since he had been Musharraf’s colleague for a year at the Royal College for Defence Studies in London; and his assessments were based in large part on some of the candid observations Musharraf had made on the 1965 and 1971 wars.83 Therefore, the Indian Army’s strategic leadership was arguably well aware that Musharraf’s psychological profile denoted a threat to India. The question, however, was how would the threat manifest itself? Deployed in Kashmir within a COIN framework, the Indian Army was largely operating under the predictive assessment model of Operation TOPAC. Accordingly, an ‘infiltration’ by militants was certain, while ‘intrusion’ by reg­ ular Pakistani forces was regarded impossible. This explains the winter with­ drawal and summer repositioning in the Kargil sector. In such a scenario, the Indian Army’s preparedness to tackle the Pakistani threat in Kargil would have required early warning with sufficient preparation time. Since, nominally, the R&AW is supposed to provide a 15-day early warning of an enemy attack, the agency has been criticised by the Army for the failure and the strategic sur­ prise.84 Is this criticism valid? Were the inputs that the R&AW provided insufficient to warn the Army against the winter withdrawal? First, because the R&AW was responsible for providing strategic warnings of an attack in Kargil, it is prudent to examine the agency’s capabilities for intelli­ gence collection in the Northern Areas. The budget cuts during 1977 witnessed the closure of several stations, of which the Kargil station was one. Only a small outpost with inadequate staff and technological capability, reported to the Leh Special Bureau – a bureau that was not focused on Kargil.85 Also, owing to terrain difficulties and absence of human traffic, the entire Northern Areas were accorded ‘low priority’.86 For most human intelligence (HUMINT) on activities in the POK region, the R&AW had relied extensively on the Mirpuri diaspora living in the Middle-East, Europe and North America.87 The challenge here was that the Mirpuris had barely any presence in the Northern Areas. In addition, the Mirpuris, who had mostly served the Indian intelligence in influence operations, were of limited value from a military intelligence point of view.88 Therefore, both the organisational presence in the region and HUMINT coverage of the Northern Areas were significantly weak. The only indication of unusual activity across the borders, thus, came from shepherds in September 1998, which was not given adequate weightage. While these gaps originated mainly from organisational constraints, there were other operational challenges to producing strategic intelligence. Since the Kashmir valley was facing an insurgency since 1987, by 1999 there were the Indian Army, the Border Security Force (BSF) and the J&K police, all trying to generate

212 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises intelligence for COIN operations. This created a unique problem for HUMINT production. COIN operations, unlike traditional foreign intelligence operations, requires an aggressive approach. The BSF, especially, is known for its active intel­ ligence gathering operations, explaining which, a former G-Branch (BSF’s intelli­ gence wing) officer, claimed that “we don’t wait for intelligence to come to us, we go and get it”.89 While this multi-agency involvement in intelligence collection fetched positive results in COIN operations, it had a contrary effect on the development of strategic foreign intelligence. The high demand on intelligence resulted in the agencies relying on the same sources, mostly smugglers and drug traffickers with access to the other side of the LOC. Duplication of intelligence notwithstanding, the lure of large money and temptation of clemency tended to lead these sources to share fake information at several instances. Considering these factors, the R&AW had made it a point to not take any information of strategic significance seriously, unless it was corroborated by technical means. However, owing to financial constraints, TECHINT devices for border monitoring were focused on China where HUMINT coverage was more difficult.90 China, being a closed society, posed a significant HUMINT challenge in comparison to Pakistan’s fractured society, and hence, TECHINT had been the main source of intelligence.91 Against this backdrop, while the Indian Army stuck to the tenets of Opera­ tion TOPAC that ‘infiltration’ was possible but not ‘intrusion’, the R&AW in its October 1998 report had claimed that “a limited swift offensive threat with possible support of alliance partners cannot be ruled out”.92 Although the available evidence does not reveal how the agency came to this conclusion, what is known is that the Army, reflecting its strong faith in nuclear deterrence, criticised the report.93 The agency’s representative apparently did not stand his ground and withdrew in the face of constant questioning.94 Following the Army’s criticism, the R&AW was compelled to exercise more caution in its reporting. In fact, closer to the crisis, one HUMINT source reported that an offensive was being prepared, which was discarded owing to reliability concerns and inadequate corroboration. A senior R&AW officer noted that, “we were using nebulous sources, which were not highly reliable, and that leads to the Army questioning the credibility of the agency’s reports”.95 This problem became more pronounced once the war commenced and the agency failed to produce the kind of intelligence required by the Army. The officer recounted: “there was immense requirement for furnishing data about movement of units to the forward locations. We just didn’t have any HUMINT sources to cater to these requirements. So, we were using some inputs from neb­ ulous sources, who had previously given reliable information. But the information required now was beyond the reach of the informer. But, since we had used his intelligence successfully earlier, we were taking whatever he said as the gospel truth. He reported a certain number of units being mobilised, which was passed on to the Army. The Army regarded them as bunkum reports since visual observation clearly suggested

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otherwise. Hence, the respect and the scale of credibility of the agency had dropped with the Army”.96 Therefore, evidently, from the submission of the October 1998 report that predicted a “limited swift offensive” to the wartime provision of operational intelligence, the R&AW repeatedly risked losing its reputation with its consumer. From January 1999 onwards, the agency returned to simply reporting developments rather than drawing inferences. In January, it reported Pakistan’s interest in buying 500 pairs of military boots from Finland for use in extreme cold conditions.97 In February, although it cast aspersions on Pakistan’s com­ mitment to the peace process, an ‘offensive’ was not indicated. In March, it reported the existence of underground bunkers and road widening activities across the borders. More importantly, while noting the troop build-up and artillery deployment in POK, it concluded that waging a war in the immediate future would not seem to be a rational decision from Pakistan’s point of view.98 Given the limitations in HUMINT coverage, and the Army’s commitment to nuclear deterrence, the agency had fallen back to political and economic ana­ lysis. From an economic point of view, Pakistan surely could not sustain a war at that time.99 The problem, however, was that the Kargil operation was never intended by its planners to develop into a war. Musharraf only wanted to pre­ sent a fait accompli before international interference would forbid war between the two nuclear powers. Hence, the R&AW’s conclusion from a political and economic perspective, that war would not be a ‘rational’ decision for Pakistan, was not entirely incorrect. On the TECHINT front, as observed earlier, Indian assets were focused on China. In addition, there were two other reasons that impeded TECHINT from being a viable source to produce military intelligence. One was the secrecy employed by the Musharraf clique that gave little room for information leakage through communication intercepts. Second, what was required here was tactical intelligence, and in this area, Pakistan had moved to more advanced modes of tactical communication that was obtained from the Americans.100 In this context, even the then Indian DGMI argued that lack of TECHINT was the main reason for the surprise at Kargil.101 Therefore, the R&AW’s TECHINT capability that rose to fame after the commencement of hostilities, through the interception of conversations between General Musharraf in Beijing and Lieutenant General Mohammed Aziz in Pakistan, could not be used to produce tactically relevant intelligence.102 Even this strategic capability was, however, lost quickly as the political leadership decided to reveal the tapes to buy American support, despite the resistance put up by the then R&AW chief.103 From the narrative offered so far, it appears that the Army’s commitment to Operation TOPAC was vastly an outcome of the organisational and opera­ tional weaknesses of the R&AW. Nevertheless, before squarely fixing the blame on the agency for failing to forewarn the Army about Pakistan’s inten­ tions, it is necessary to question what the Army knew about the developments

214 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises across the Kargil sector from its own sources as well as the IB. The IB was specially tasked to monitor the cross-border activities of Pakistan in the aftermath of the nuclear tests. A young IB officer, Chandra Sen Singh, had generated several reports on Pakistani troop activities across the border, which alarmed the agency’s higher leadership.104 The IB’s Srinagar station shared the reports with the then deputy chief A.S. Dulat. Finally, the contents of the report were considered so sensitive that the Director of IB, Shyamal Dutta, produced a personally signed note for the government of India. While a personally signed report by the DIB was supposed to set in motion a detailed follow-up action as per protocol, neither the Home Ministry nor the Army made much of it.105 It must, however, be noted that the one-upmanship sought by the IB cost the R&AW a valuable opportunity to verify the input through its own sources.106 In the lead up to the war, the IB had produced 40 reports, of which nine were concerning Kargil.107 Many more vital inputs, of tactical nature, were shared directly with the Brigade commander verbally. Nevertheless, the Army had assessed all these inputs to be well within the pattern of increased militancy anticipated in the aftermath of the nuclear tests.108 Therefore, it is further clear that the Indian Army’s faith in its predictive framework had further crystallised following the nuclear tests. Notwithstanding the reports by the R&AW and the IB, the Military intelli­ gence (MI) had 23 of the 45 important reports109 generated prior to the war, which were not passed on to the civilian agencies as the practice was that the end user did not have to share intelligence collected by it.110 Since August 1998, despite being informed of the construction of an all-weather road from Gultari, and alerted by the locals towards increased Pakistani queries about Indian troop deployment in the region, the commander of 3 Infantry Division did not hesitate to divert the 70 Infantry Brigade from the Batalik sector to the Kashmir Valley for COIN operations. Between November 1998 and February 1999 the Northern Command also reported an increase in troop movement and blasting activities across the Kargil sector.111 It is against this collective reportage by the R&AW, the IB and the MI that the accusations of intelligence failure as a causal factor in the Kargil surprise needs to be examined. The Army’s criticism of the R&AW is that the latter’s reports “showed no accretion in force levels of the FCNA”.112 Owing to the shortcomings in R&AW’s cross-border intelligence collection as chronicled above, and the Mujahideen cover employed by the Pakistani troops, the agency fell short in reading the Pakistani ORBAT by 10 percent. This led a former chief of R&AW to retort that: “a correct reading of 90% of the ORBAT is considered a first-rate per­ formance in the intelligence world. A judgement going by mere statistics does not therefore constitute a valid finding”.113 It is quite clear that both the Army and the R&AW chief were defending their professional turfs. But purely in terms of deterring Pakistan from undertaking

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the Kargil adventure, the Army’s accusation does not stand the test of evidence. The number of indicators and reports cited until now should have caused suf­ ficient alarm in the Army to reconsider the winter withdrawal or undertake other measures to monitor the Kargil sector. In fact, some officers in the Army were genuinely concerned about a probable Pakistani intrusion in Kargil. However, these were mid ranking officers, incapable of convincing the higher command of their forecasts. Owing in large part to the predictive components of Operation TOPAC, the border troops that were supposed to conduct patrols and submit ‘route reports’ for future planning, had avoided the high-ridges since they were not conducive for ‘infiltration’ of militants. According to some reliable accounts, the brigade commander had foreseen a possibility of ‘intrusion’ and requested additional troops.114 The Army high command had ridiculed the officer, and hence, as winter approached, the brigade commander withheld reconnaissance patrols to avoid weather related casualties.115 In another instance, a war game conducted in February 1999 had also ruled out possibilities of cross-border intrusion, and an officer who had hypothesised an offensive, under the cir­ cumstances, was also ridiculed.116 Therefore, the predictive pattern, as espoused under Operation TOPAC, was too strongly ensconced in the minds of the Army’s senior leadership. Hence, whatever indicators were provided by the civilian or military intelligence were either interpreted as fitting within the Operation TOPAC framework or discarded when it did not do so. Finally, in order to judge whether the surprise at Kargil was a cause of intelligence failure or policy failure, it is inevitable to reiterate that the Kargil War was not a full-fledged war, nor was it intended to be. Neither was Paki­ stan’s economic situation supportive of a largescale offensive nor was the poli­ tical condition demanding a military onslaught. It was a localised affair carried out by a small group of officers, succeeded mainly because of an opportunity created by the Indian Army themselves abandoning their positions.117 There­ fore, insofar as preventing a surprise was concerned, the Indian intelligence had to only provide intelligence sufficient to convince the political leadership of Pakistan’s lack of commitment towards the peace process, and the military leadership that the winter withdrawal might not be an ideal move. The R&AW had done both of these. While the former was expressed explicitly, the latter was conveyed through several inputs, which the Army swept it all under Operation TOPAC. One school of thought sympathetic to the responders, has argued that only a “worst-case scenario” analysis, that places a premium on all possibilities, would have averted the surprise. According to this line of thought, such an analysis might seem rational in theory but absurd in practice as it would inflict high costs on human life and the state exchequer.118 However, these scholars miss the point that, if the Army had taken the warnings seriously, which were suf­ ficient enough to reconsider withdrawal, there were a number of other options available at its disposal, short of manually holding the Kargil heights. The option of aerial reconnaissance never seems to have been used to its full

216 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises potential. Guided by the predictive framework, the Army Aviation Corps con­ ducted the Winter Air Surveillance Operations only over ravines and riverbeds looking for infiltration. The KRC Report has given the benefit of the doubt to the Army by explaining that the approaching helicopters might have alerted the intruders to camouflage their positions.119 Given that an approaching helicopter is audible only at a distance of 7 miles, which the helicopter covers in a few minutes, and that the occupying troops were assisted by mules, informed practitioners and scholars have cast their doubts on this explanation.120 Even if the committee’s explanation is taken at face value, the Indian Army should have been aware of the challenges to aerial reconnaissance and sought the help of the Aviation Research Centre (ARC) or the Indian Air Force (IAF), which flew better equipped aircrafts. Close to a year before the war, owing to complaints raised by the Army and the Navy over inadequate intel­ ligence flow, Arvind Dave, the then chief of R&AW had directed R.S. Bedi, the head of ARC, to cut down transmission time, which led to intelligence being shared in real-time. While operational details of this arrangement are unknown, according to Air Marshal Ashok Goel, Bedi initiated “user-friendly steps, and a mission could be launched within hours. Analytical reports were delivered ASAP, within hours if required”.121 In fact, after the war, the Army had sent a word of appreciation to the ARC for its commendable support in the conduct of the war, while prior to the war the Army had expressed gratitude for the ARC’s clandestine photoreconnaissance missions in support of COIN operations. Over Kargil, the ARC had flown in September-October 1998, and the next flight was only in May 1999 following a request from the DGMI, long after the intruders had taken their positions. The ARC provided the R&AW with eight detailed intrusion maps in the Kargil sector.122 Besides the lack of timely requests from the Army, the ARC by itself did not conduct reconnaissance missions because of a poli­ tical direction given to the intelligence agencies to maintain a low profile to avoid jeopardising the peace process.123 Hence, in effect, the failure to use the ARC was a result of the political leadership’s and the military’s misreading of the implications of the nuclear tests on the enemy’s intentions. Adding to the Army’s lack of motivation to consider patrolling the high ridges was the inter-service rivalry that further curtailed the use of the IAF for surveillance and reconnaissance purposes. For instance, back in late 1998, when there were reports of terrorists acquiring Surface to Air Missiles, the Army had turned down the IAF chief’s offer to deploy the Jaguar aircrafts fitted with a photoreconnaissance kit for surveillance.124 Trifling turf considerations with­ held requests from the Army, and the first request came only in May 1999 after the intruders had fired upon the Indian Army’s reconnaissance mission. Air Marshal Narayan Menon recalled that these requests were also frivolous, seek­ ing only “two attack helicopters” to eliminate “a few people”.125 According to Menon, the Army was still operating on a COIN mindset believing that the intruders were militants.126 Thus, valuable time in discovering and tackling the intruders was sacrificed to inter-service feuds. At one instance after the war

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began, among the targets that the IAF received to bomb was an Indian Brigade HQ! The blunder was averted by some field operative accidently taking notice of it.127 Such was the state of interservice co-operation and co-ordination in contrast to the exemplary results achieved in 1971. Therefore, neither had the Army shared intelligence with the civilian intelli­ gence agencies towards completing the strategic intelligence picture of the enemy, nor did it critically analyse the numerous indicators provided by the civilian intel­ ligence agencies and its own mid-level officers. The predictive framework under Operation TOPAC had so deeply engulfed its leadership that none of the options available at its disposal to secure the Kargil heights seemed employable.

The 1999 Kargil Surprise: A Result of Intelligence and Policy Failures After the spectacular performances in 1971, the 1999 Indian intelligence per­ formances somewhat returned to the 1962 levels. These were marked by organisational weaknesses and informational gaps that failed to completely uncover the enemy intentions. However, these lacunae were a consequence of the resistance posed by the intelligence consumers to warnings. Unlike the purposefulness with which the R&AW functioned during 1971, the 1999 intelligence-policy relationship had largely resembled 1962, where policy pre­ ceded intelligence. As a result, the R&AW was presented with a fait accompli in the form of the Bus Diplomacy. In addition, the implications of the nuclear tests on the subcontinental security dynamics were not subject to intelligence scrutiny. Rather they were interpreted by the political leadership as a guarantor of peace while the military leadership interpreted them as reason for continua­ tion of state-sponsored terrorism by Pakistan. Like in 1962, the intelligence consumers in 1999 were operating under a wishful thought about the enemy’s actions. The tenets of Operation TOPAC and the belief in nuclear deterrence forbade adequate attention to strategic intelligence estimates. Observing this factor, one scholar has commented that: “when strong minded consumers, such as the military officials, develop fixed ideas about how the enemy will behave, intelligence analysts might end up internalising these ideas. The result is that intelligence producers fail to warn of threats which their consumers do not believe exist”.128 If the consumers are incapable of comprehending the true implications of their actions or have built up strong mindsets that either misinterpret or discard incoming information, then the cause for the surprise is more policy than intelligence.129 This also led to the consumers not sharing several tactical inputs with the strategic intelligence agency, which could have aided in analysis. Therefore, it is the argument of this chapter that the 1999 surprise was multifactorial emerging out of both intelligence and policy failures, wherein the latter significantly induced as well as accentuated the former.

218 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises In summation, this part of the book has examined the cases of the 1962, 1971 and 1999 wars and concluded that the failures of 1962 and 1999, and the success of 1971, had their origins in both intelligence and policy performances. We have observed how organisational changes and policymaking methods have impacted the occurrence, or not, of strategic surprises. However, the main question that remains is, what explains the lack of uniformity in Indian intelligence perfor­ mances? In other words, despite the success of 1971, why were the right lessons in averting strategic surprises not learnt? Answering these questions requires contextualisation of Indian intelligence within India’s national security set-up. It essentially requires an observation of the key inferences from these cases through the conceptual lens of intelligence culture. This would enable the establishment of the central argument of this book, i.e. how India ‘thinks about’ and ‘does’ intelligence is fundamental to understanding its intelligence-surprise dynamics. We shall do this in the next part.

Notes 1 ‘Meet forgotten Kargil hero Tashi Namgyal - the Local Shepherd who saw Pak getting Ready’, DNA, 26 July 2019, available at www.dnaindia.com/india/inter view-meet-forgotten-kargil-hero-tashi-namgyal-the-local-shepherd-who-saw-pa k-getting-ready-27758, accessed on 15 August 2019. 2 Stanley Wolpert, Zulfi Bhutto of Pakistan: His Life and Times, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993, p. 279. 3 Hein Kiessling, Faith, Unity, Discipline: The Inter-Service-Intelligence (ISI) of Pakistan, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016, p. 23. 4 Mark Adkin and Mohammad Yousaf, Afghanistan – the Bear Trap: The Defeat of a Superpower, Pennsylvania: Casemate Publishers, 2001; Steve Coll, Ghost Wars: The Secret History of the CIA, Afghanistan and Bin Laden, New York: Penguin, 2004; ‘Part-IV: Adrift’, in Owen L. Sirrs, Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence Directorate: Covert Action and Internal Operations, London: Routledge, 2016. 5 Bruce Riedel, What We Won: America’s Secret War in Afghanistan, 1979–89, Washington DC: Brookings Institution Press, 2014, p. x; George Crile, Charlie Wilson’s War: The Story of the Largest Covert Operation in History: The Arming of the Mujahideen by the CIA, London: Atlantic Books, 2015. 6 Riedel, What We Won, 2014, p. xii.

7 Coll, Ghost Wars, 2004, p. 66.

8 S.K. Ghosh, Pakistan’s ISI: Network of Terror in India, New Delhi: A.P.H.

Publishing Corporation, 2000, p. 7; Kiessling, Faith, Unity, Discipline, 2016, p. 88. 9 Christine Fair, In Their Own Words: Understanding Lashkar-e-Tayyaba, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018; Christine Fair, Fighting to the End: Pakistan Army’s Way of War, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016. 10 Praveen Swami, India, Pakistan and the Secret Jihad, London: Routledge, 2006, p. 48. 11 Suneel Kumar, ‘Sikh Ethnic Uprising in India and Involvement of Foreign Powers’, Faultlines, 18 January 2007, available at www.satp.org/satporgtp/publica tion/faultlines/volume18/Article4.htm, accessed on 10 September 2019. 12 Peter Dale Scott, The United States in Afghanistan, Colombia and Indochina, Maryland: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2003, p. 48. 13 Gretchen Peters, Seeds of Terror: How Heroin is Bankrolling the Taliban and the al-Qaeda, New York: Thomas Dunne Books, 2009, p. 66.

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14 ‘Pakistan’s Nuclear Weapons Program’, Central Intelligence Agency, 4 September 1984, available at www.cia.gov/library/readingroom/docs/CIA-RDP86M00886R0 00800100026-8.pdf, accessed on 10 September 2019; Gordon Corera, Shopping for Bombs: Nuclear Proliferation, Global Insecurity, and the Rise and Fall of the A.Q. Khan Network, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006, p. 54. 15 Ranjan Pal, ‘Political Economy of Drugs and Insurgency: The Case of Punjab’, MA Thesis: Naval Postgraduate School, March 2017, available at www.hsdl.org/? view&did=800982, accessed on 10 September 2019. 16 Interview with former Inspector General BSF (G-Branch) Srinivasan, 17 October 2018. 17 Ayesha Siddiqa-Agha, ‘Political Economy of National Security’, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. 37, No. 44/45, 2002, p. 4548. 18 The complex nexus of the ISI-Islamic Militants-Narcotics Traffickers is a loaded topic that is beyond the purview of this book to be explained in detail. The 9/11 attacks provided the impetus for investigations into this nexus. As a result, several studies have exposed the Pakistan Army and the ISI’s involvement in narcotics trade and sponsorship of terror. A dossier prepared by Paul Thompson provides a thorough detailing of this theme from 1979 to 2003. Paul Thompson, ‘Pakistani ISI and/or Drug Connections’, 2003, available at https://911timeline.s3.amazona ws.com/main/AAisidrugs.html, accessed on 10 September 2019; Peters, Seeds of Terror, 2009, p. 38. 19 Bidanda Chengappa, ‘The ISI Role in Pakistan’s Politics’, Strategic Analysis, Vol. 23, No. 11, 2000, p. 1876; Kiessling, Faith, Unity, Discipline, 2016, pp. 75–85. 20 Aqil Shah, The Army and Democracy, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2014, p. 203. 21 Stephen Tankel, Storming the World Stage: The Story of Lashkar-e-Taiba, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013, p. 107; Fair, In Their Own Words, 2018, p. 59. 22 Prem Mahadevan, ‘The Gill Doctrine: A Model for 21st Century Counter-ter­ rorism?’, Faultlines, Vol. 19, 19 April 2008, available at www.satp.org/satporgtp/p ublication/faultlines/volume19/Article1.htm, accessed on 12 September 2019. 23 K. Subrahmanyam, K.K. Hazari, B.G. Verghese and Satish Chandra, From Surprise to Reckoning: The Kargil Review Committee Report, New Delhi: Sage, 2000, p. 117 (Hereon KRC Report). 24 Victoria Schofield, Kashmir in Conflict: India, Pakistan and the Unending War, London: I.B. Tauris, 2003, pp. 109–112. 25 ‘OP TOPAC: The Kashmir Imbroglio – I’, Indian Defence Review, July-December 1989, available at www.indiandefencereview.com/spotlights/op-topac-the-kashm ir-imbroglio-i, accessed on 23 September 2019. 26 Ibid. 27 There were militants from elsewhere in the world who had fought in Afghanistan, but were not Afghan nationals. 28 Ibid. 29 Ibid. 30 KRC Report, 2000, p. 70. 31 Ashley J. Tellis, Christine C. Fair and Jamison Jo Medby, Limited Conflicts Under the Nuclear Umbrella: Indian and Pakistani Lessons from the Kargil Crisis, RAND Corporation, 2001, available at www.rand.org/pubs/monograph_reports/ MR1450.html#download, accessed on 23 September 2019. 32 Fair, Fighting to the End, 2016, p. 10. 33 Nitin A. Gokhale, Beyond NJ 9842: The Siachen Saga, New Delhi: Bloomsbury India, 2014, p. iii. 34 Nasim Zehra, From Kargil to the Coup: Events that Shook Pakistan, Lahore: Sang-eMeel Publications, 2018, p. 38. 35 Ibid, p. 42.

220 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises 36 Ibid.

37 Peter R. Lavoy, ‘Introduction: The Importance of the Kargil Conflict’, in Peter

R. Lavoy, Asymmetric Warfare in South Asia: The Causes and Consequences of the Kargil Conflict, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009, p. 11. 38 Fair, Fighting to the End, 2016, p. 152; Zehra, From Kargil to the Coup, 2018, p. 101. 39 Uri Bar-Joseph, The Angel: The Egyptian Spy Who Saved Israel, London: Harper Collins, 2016, p. 179. 40 Henry Kissinger, Years of Upheaval, Boston: Little Brown and Co., 1982, p. 465. 41 Sumit Ganguly and Paul S. Kapur, India, Pakistan and the Bomb: Debating Nuclear Stability in South Asia, New York: Columbia University Press, 2012, p. 50. 42 KRC Report, 2000, p. 38. 43 Robert M. Clark, Intelligence Analysis, London: Sage, 2012, p. xix. 44 KRC Report, 2000, p. 238. 45 Jeffrey Greenhut, ‘Sahib and Sepoy: An Inquiry into the Relationship between the British Officers and Native Soldiers of the British Indian Army’, Military Affairs, Vol. 48, No. 1, 1984, p. 16. 46 The ‘martial race theory’ also explains the dismal representation of Bengalis from East Pakistan in the pre-1971 Pakistan Army. Rebecca L. Schiff, The Military and Domestic Politics: A Concordance Theory of Civil-Military Relations, London: Routle­ dge, p. 87. 47 Brian Cloughley, A History of Pakistan Army: Wars and Insurrections, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 2002, p. 71; Wolpert, Zulfi Bhutto of Pakistan, 1993, p. 92. 48 Tilak Devasher, Pakistan: At the Helm, New Delhi: Harper Collins, 2018. 49 Shuja Nawaz, Crossed Swords: Pakistan, its Army, and the Wars Within, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008, p. 510. 50 Ibid. 51 Ibid. 52 Zehra, From Kargil to the Coup, 2018, pp. 124, 131. 53 Sharif removed Musharraf after a phone call: Gen Butt, Dawn, 12 October 2010, available at www.dawn.com/news/848878, accessed on 24 September 2019. 54 Zehra, From Kargil to the Coup, 2018, p. 96. 55 Kaiser Tufail, ‘Kargil Conflict and Pakistan Air Force’, Aeronaut, 28 January 2009, available at http://kaiser-aeronaut.blogspot.com/2009/01/kargil-conflict-and-pa kistan-air-force.html, accessed on 24 September 2019. 56 Ibid. 57 Ibid. 58 Christine Fair, ‘Militants in the Kargil conflict: myths, realities, and impacts’, in Peter R. Lavoy, Asymmetric Warfare in South Asia: The Causes and the Consequences of the Kargil Conflict, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009, p. 233. 59 ‘Najam Sethi - Kargil War – Part 2’, YouTube, 14 May 2012, available at www. youtube.com/watch?v=V6QFHb5PRVQ&t=21s, accessed on 24 September 2019. 60 Lavoy, ‘Introduction’, 2009, p. 20; Zehra, From Kargil to the Coup, 2018, p. 100. 61 V.N. Khanna, Foreign Policy of India, New Delhi: Vikas Publishing House, 2018, p. 103. 62 Ryan French, ‘Deterrence Adrift?: Mapping Conflict and Escalation in South Asia’, Strategic Studies Quarterly, Vol. 10, No. 1, p. 114. 63 Evidence of Pakistan’s intolerance of reporters and scholars with a contrarian viewpoint emerged with the murder of Daniel Pearl, a journalist with The Wall Street Journal, in 2002. Sirrs, Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence Directorate, 2016, p. 225; Since then, western journalists and scholars have begun to accept that visas to Pakistan, and safety of visitors, are subject to the nature of reportage and opinions. Christine Fair, ‘Pakistan’s War on Scholars’, Huffpost, 24 February 2016, available at: www.huffpost.com/entry/pakistans-war-on-scholars_b_ 9286542, accessed on 21 September 2019; It is against this backdrop that I con­ cluded that fieldwork in Pakistan would be audacious.

Surprise on the Kargil Hilltops

221

64 Interview with Pakistan Studies expert Sushant Sareen, 26 October 2018. 65 Pupul Jayakar, Indira Gandhi: A Biography, New Delhi: Penguin, 1995, p. 313. 66 Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary Vappala Balachandran, 16 September 2018. 67 ‘Home Minister Charan Singh determined to cut RAW down to size’, India Today, 15 September 1977, available at www.indiatoday.in/magazine/special-rep ort/story/19770915-home-minister-charan-singh-determined-to-cut-raw-down­ to-size-823884-2014-09-04, accessed on 23 September 2019. 68 B. Raman, The Kaoboys of R&AW: Down Memory Lane, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 2013, pp. 92–95. 69 Interview with former Secretary (Research) Vikram Sood, 22 October 2018. 70 Interview with Intelligence Studies Scholar Dr. Prem Mahadevan, 27 February 2019. 71 KRC Report, 2000; Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R3, 30 October 2018. 72 Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R3, 30 October 2018. 73 KRC Report, 2000, p. 132. 74 Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R3, 30 October 2018. 75 The Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) was then part of the NSCS, which was responsible for all-source assessments. 76 Interview with former Secretary (Research) A.S. Dulat, 18 October 2018. 77 KRC Report, 2000, p. 142. 78 K. Sankaran Nair, Inside IB and RAW: The Rolling Stone that Gathered Moss, New Delhi: Manas Publications, 2016, p. 174. 79 Raman, The Kaoboys of R&AW, 2013, pp. 79–81. 80 Nair, Inside IB and RAW, 2016, p. 175. 81 Interview with former Secretary (Research) A.S. Dulat, 18 October 2018; Inter­ view with former Secretary (Research) Vikram Sood, 22 October 2018. 82 Interview with former Secretary (Research) Vikram Sood, 22 October 2018. 83 Interview with Lieutenant General (Retd) B.S. Malik, 14 December 2018. 84 Ashok Mehta, ‘Coping with the Unexpected’, Rediff, 30 August 1999, available at www.rediff.com/news/1999/aug/30mehta.htm, accessed on 25 September 2019. 85 KRC Report, 2000, p. 159. 86 Ibid, p. 233. 87 B. Raman, ‘Was there an intelligence failure?', Frontline, 17–30 July 1999, avail­ able at https://frontline.thehindu.com/static/html/fl1615/16151170.htm, acces­ sed on 25 September 2019. 88 Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R3, 30 October 2018. 89 The officer used the analogy of Pambu Putthu (snake hole in Tamil language), which implies that one would have to drag the snake out of the hole rather than wait for it to emerge. Interview with former Inspector General BSF (G-Branch) Srinivasan, 17 October 2018. 90 B Raman, ‘Should we believe General Malik?', Rediff, 5 May 2006, available at www.rediff.com/news/2006/may/05raman.htm, accessed on 25 September 2019. 91 Interview with Military Intelligence officer – M2, 23 September 2018. 92 KRC Report, 2000, p. 127. 93 Prem Mahadevan, ‘The Perils of Prediction: Indian Intelligence and the Kargil Crisis’, Manekshaw Paper, No. 29, 2011, p. 12, available at www.claws.in/publica tion/the-perils-of-prediction-indian-intelligence-and-the-kargil-crisis/, accessed on 25 September 2019. 94 Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R1, 19 August 2018. 95 Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R3, 30 October 2018. 96 Ibid. 97 KRC Report, 2000, p. 132.

222 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises 98 99 100 101 102 103 104

105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117

118 119 120 121 122 123 124

V.P. Malik, ‘The Kargil War: Some Reflections’, CLAWS Journal, 2009, p. 3. Shreedhar, ‘Pakistan’s Economic Dilemma’, Strategic Analysis, Vol. 22, No. 3, p. 457. Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R3, 30 October 2018. Interview with former DGMI, Lieutenant General (Retd) R.K. Sawhney, 17 December 2018. Jaswant Singh, In Service of Emergent India: A Call to Honor, Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 2007, pp. 180–187. A.S. Dulat, Kashmir: The Vajpayee Years, New Delhi: Harper Collins, 2015, p. 46. Rajesh Ahuja, ‘Medal for intelligence official who sent first Kargil alert on Pak troops’, The Hindustan Times, 15 August 2016, available at www.hindustantimes. com/nation-newspaper/medal-for-ib-man-who-sent-first-kargil-alert/story­ PsniUhLae9jE6eJ, accessed on 25 September 2019. Dulat, Kashmir, 2015, p. 89. Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R3, 30 October 2018; KRC Report, 2000, p. 119. KRC Report, 2000, p. 148. Ibid. Eight by the Brigade Intelligence Teams (121 Infantry Brigade); two from the Intelligence and Field Surveillance Unit (IFSU); two from the 3 Infantry Division; one from the 15 Corps; and ten from the Northern Command. KRC Report, 2000, p. 132; Raman, ‘Should we believe General Malik?’, 2006. KRC Report, 2000, pp. 128–132 V.P. Malik, Kargil: From Surprise to Victory, New Delhi: Harper Collins, 2010, p. 86. A.K. Verma, ‘Kargil Committee Report and Intelligence’, South Asia Analysis Group, 16 May 2000, available at www.southasiaanalysis.org/note91, accessed on 25 September 2019. Former senior Military Intelligence officer – M1, 11 July 2018. Praveen Swami, ‘The Kargil Story’, Frontline, 2000, available at https://frontline. thehindu.com/static/html/fl1722/17220240.htm, accessed on 27 September 2019. Rahul Bedi, ‘A Dismal Failure’, in Sankarshan Thakur, Guns and Yellow Roses: Essays on the Kargil War, New Delhi: Harper Collins, 1999, p.141. James J. Wirtz and Surinder Rana, ‘Surprise at the top of the world: India’s sys­ temic and intelligence failure’, in Peter R. Lavoy, Asymmetric Warfare in South Asia: The Causes and Consequences of the Kargil Conflict, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009, pp. 219–220. Srinath Raghavan, ‘Intelligence Failures and Reforms’, 2009, available at www.india -seminar.com/2009/599/599_srinath_raghavan.htm, accessed on 27 September 2019. KRC Report, 2000, p. 86. M.P. Acosta, ‘High Altitude Warfare: The Kargil Conflict and the Future’, Naval Postgraduate School, 2003, available at https://apps.dtic.mil/dtic/tr/fulltext/u2/a 417318.pdf, accessed on 27 October 2019. Ashok Goel, ‘The 1999 Kargil War: Not a Generals’ Victory’, India Strategic, January 2009, available at www.indiastrategic.in/topstories252.htm, accessed on 27 September 2019. Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R3, 30 October 2018. ‘For 7 Months, We Weren’t Told To Fly Any Mission’, Outlook, 22 May 2006, available at www.outlookindia.com/magazine/story/for-7-months-we-wer ent-told-to-fly-any-mission/231327, accessed on 21 September 2019. It is interesting to note that the information about the arrival of SAMs, although deemed as misinformation later, was an indication that the nuclear tests actually provided an opportunity for Pakistan to escalate tensions under the umbrella of nuclear deterrence. Yet, the Indian political leadership persisted with optimism

Surprise on the Kargil Hilltops

125 126

127 128 129

223

over the peace process. Praveen Swami, ‘The Bungle in Kargil’, Frontline, JuneJuly 1999, Frontline, available at https://frontline.thehindu.com/static/html/ fl1613/16130040.htm, accessed on 27 September 2019. Interview with Air Marshal (Retd) Narayan Menon, 20 July 2018. In contrast, the Army’s version of the events states that the IAF turned down initial requests over fears of escalation. Harwant Singh, ‘Kargil Controversy: Mis­ management of Higher Defence’, Indian Defence Review, October-December 2009, available at www.indiandefencereview.com/spotlights/kargil-controversy-m ismanagement-of-higher-defence, accessed on 27 September 2019. Interview with Air Marshal (Retd) Narayan Menon, 20 July 2018. Mahadevan, ‘The Perils of Prediction’, 2011, p. 18. Stephen Marrin, ‘Why Strategic Intelligence Analysis has Limited Influence on American Foreign Policy’, Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 32, No. 6, 2017, p.727.

References Acosta, M.P., ‘High Altitude Warfare: The Kargil Conflict and the Future’, Naval Postgraduate School, 2003, available at https://apps.dtic.mil/dtic/tr/fulltext/u2/a 417318.pdf, accessed on 27 October 2019. Adkin , Mark and Mohammad Yousaf, Afghanistan – the Bear Trap: The Defeat of a Superpower, Pennsylvania: Casemate Publishers, 2001. Ahuja, Rajesh, ‘Medal for intelligence official who sent first Kargil alert on Pak troops’, The Hindustan Times, 15 August 2016, available at www.hindustantimes.com/na tion-newspaper/medal-for-ib-man-who-sent-first-kargil-alert/story-PsniUhLa e9jE6eJ, accessed on 25 September 2019. Bar-Joseph, Uri, The Angel: The Egyptian Spy Who Saved Israel, London: Harper Collins, 2016. Bedi, Rahul, ‘A Dismal Failure’, in Sankarshan Thakur, Guns and Yellow Roses: Essays on the Kargil War, New Delhi: Harper Collins, 1999. Central Intelligence Agency, ‘Pakistan’s Nuclear Weapons Program’, 4 September 1984, available at www.cia.gov/library/readingroom/docs/CIA-RDP86M00886R000800100 026-8.pdf, accessed on 10 September 2019. Chengappa, Bidanda, ‘The ISI Role in Pakistan’s Politics’, Strategic Analysis, Vol. 23, No. 11, 2000. Cloughley, Brian, A History of Pakistan Army: Wars and Insurrections, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 2002. Coll, Steve, Ghost Wars: The Secret History of the CIA, Afghanistan and Bin Laden, New York: Penguin, 2004. Corera, Gordon, Shopping for Bombs: Nuclear Proliferation, Global Insecurity, and the Rise and Fall of the A.Q. Khan Network, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006. Crile, George, Charlie Wilson’s War: The Story of the Largest Covert Operation in History: The Arming of the Mujahideen by the CIA, London: Atlantic Books, 2015. Dale Scott, Peter, The United States in Afghanistan, Colombia and Indochina, Maryland: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2003. Dawn, ‘Sharif removed Musharraf after a phone call: Gen Butt’, 12 October 2010, available at www.dawn.com/news/848878, accessed on 24 September 2019. Devasher, Tilak, Pakistan: At the Helm, New Delhi: Harper Collins, 2018. DNA, ‘Meet forgotten Kargil hero Tashi Namgyal - the Local Shepherd who saw Pak getting Ready’, 26 July 2019, available at www.dnaindia.com/india/interview-meet-forgotten-ka rgil-hero-tashi-namgyal-the-local-shepherd-who-saw-pak-getting-ready-27758, accessed on 15 August 2019.

224 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Dulat, A.S., Kashmir: The Vajpayee Years, New Delhi: Harper Collins, 2015. Fair, Christine, ‘Pakistan’s War on Scholars’, Huffpost, 24 February 2016, available at www.huffpost.com/entry/pakistans-war-on-scholars_b_9286542, accessed on 21 September 2019. Fair, Christine, Fighting to the End: Pakistan Army’s Way of War, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016. Fair, Christine, In Their Own Words: Understanding Lashkar-e-Tayyaba, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018. Fair, Christine, ‘Militants in the Kargil conflict: myths, realities, and impacts’, in Peter R. Lavoy, Asymmetric Warfare in South Asia: The Causes and the Consequences of the Kargil Conflict, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009. French, Ryan, ‘Deterrence Adrift?: Mapping Conflict and Escalation in South Asia’, Strategic Studies Quarterly, Vol. 10, No. 1. Ganguly, Sumit and Paul S. Kapur, India, Pakistan and the Bomb: Debating Nuclear Stabi­ lity in South Asia, New York: Columbia University Press, 2012. Ghosh, S.K., Pakistan’s ISI: Network of Terror in India, New Delhi: A.P.H. Publishing Corporation, 2000. Goel, Ashok, ‘The 1999 Kargil War: Not a Generals’ Victory’, India Strategic, January 2009, available at www.indiastrategic.in/topstories252.htm, accessed on 27 September 2019. Gokhale, Nitin A., Beyond NJ 9842: The Siachen Saga, New Delhi: Bloomsbury India, 2014. Greenhut, Jeffrey, ‘Sahib and Sepoy: An Inquiry into the Relationship between the British Officers and Native Soldiers of the British Indian Army’, Military Affairs, Vol. 48, No. 1, 1984. Indian Defence Review, ‘OP TOPAC: The Kashmir Imbroglio – I’, July-December 1989, available at www.indiandefencereview.com/spotlights/op-topac-the-kashmir-imbro glio-i/0/, accessed on 23 September 2019. India Today, ‘Home MinisterCharan Singh determined to cut RAW down to size’, 15 September 1977, available at www.indiatoday.in/magazine/special-report/story/ 19770915-home-minister-charan-singh-determined-to-cut-raw-down­ to-size-823884-2014-09-04, accessed on 23 September 2019. Jayakar, Pupul, Indira Gandhi: A Biography, New Delhi: Penguin, 1995.

Khanna, V.N., Foreign Policy of India, New Delhi: Vikas Publishing House, 2018.

Kiessling, Hein, Faith, Unity, Discipline: The Inter-Service-Intelligence (ISI) of Pakistan,

Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016. Kissinger, Henry, Years of Upheaval, Boston: Little Brown and Co., 1982. Kumar, Suneel, ‘Sikh Ethnic Uprising in India and Involvement of Foreign Powers’, Faultlines, 18 January 2007, available at www.satp.org/satporgtp/publication/fa ultlines/volume18/Article4.htm, accessed on 10 September 2019. Lavoy, Peter R., ‘Introduction: The Importance of the Kargil Conflict’, in Peter R. Lavoy, Asymmetric Warfare in South Asia: The Causes and Consequences of the Kargil Conflict, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009, p. 11. Mahadevan, Prem, ‘The Gill Doctrine: A Model for 21st Century Counter-terrorism?’, Faultlines, Vol. 19, 19 April 2008, available at www.satp.org/satporgtp/publication/fa ultlines/volume19/Article1.htm, accessed on 12 September 2019. Mahadevan, Prem, ‘The Perils of Prediction: Indian Intelligence and the Kargil Crisis’, Manekshaw Paper, No. 29, 2011, p. 12, available at www.claws.in/publica tion/the-perils-of-prediction-indian-intelligence-and-the-kargil-crisis/, accessed on 25 September 2019. Malik, V.P., ‘The Kargil War: Some Reflections’, CLAWS Journal, Summer 2009.

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Malik, V.P., Kargil: From Surprise to Victory, New Delhi: Harper Collins, 2010. Marrin, Stephen, ‘Why Strategic Intelligence Analysis has Limited Influence on Amer­ ican Foreign Policy’, Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 32, No. 6, 2017. Mehta, Ashok, ‘Coping with the Unexpected’, Rediff, 30 August 1999, available at www.rediff.com/news/1999/aug/30mehta.htm, accessed on 25 September 2019. Nawaz, Shuja, Crossed Swords: Pakistan, its Army, and the Wars Within, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008. Outlook, ‘For 7 Months, We Weren’t Told To Fly Any Mission’, 22 May 2006, avail­ able at www.outlookindia.com/magazine/story/for-7-months-we-werent-told-to­ fly-any-mission/231327, accessed on 21 September 2019. Pal, Ranjan, ‘Political Economy of Drugs and Insurgency: The Case of Punjab’, MA Thesis: Naval Postgraduate School, March 2017, available at www.hsdl.org/?view&­ did=800982, accessed on 10 September 2019. Peters, Gretchen, Seeds of Terror: How Heroin is Bankrolling the Taliban and the al-Qaeda, New York: Thomas Dunne Books, 2009. Raghavan, Srinath, ‘Intelligence Failures and Reforms’, 2009, available at www.india -seminar.com/2009/599/599_srinath_raghavan.htm, accessed on 27 September 2019. Raman, B., ‘Was there an intelligence failure?', Frontline, 17–30July 1999, available at https://frontline.thehindu.com/static/html/fl1615/16151170.htm, accessed on 25 September 2019. Raman, B., ‘Should we believe General Malik?', Rediff, 5May 2006, available at www. rediff.com/news/2006/may/05raman.htm, accessed on 25 September 2019. Raman, B., The Kaoboys of R&AW: Down Memory Lane, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 2013. Riedel, Bruce, What We Won: America’s Secret War in Afghanistan, 1979–89, Washington DC: Brookings Institution Press, 2014. Sankaran Nair, K., Inside IB and RAW: The Rolling Stone that Gathered Moss, New Delhi: Manas Publications, 2016. Schiff, Rebecca L., The Military and Domestic Politics: A Concordance Theory of Civil-Mili­ tary Relations, London: Routledge. Schofield, Victoria, Kashmir in Conflict: India, Pakistan and the Unending War, London: I. B. Tauris, 2003. Shah, Aqil, The Army and Democracy, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2014, p. 203. Siddiqa-Agha, Ayesha, ‘Political Economy of National Security’, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. 37, No. 44/45, 2002. Singh, Harwant, ‘Kargil Controversy: Mismanagement of Higher Defence’, Indian Defence Review, October–December 2009, available at www.indiandefencereview. com/spotlights/kargil-controversy-mismanagement-of-higher-defence, accessed on 27 September 2019. Singh, Jaswant, In Service of Emergent India: A Call to Honor, Indianapolis: Indiana Uni­ versity Press, 2007. Sirrs, Owen L., Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence Directorate: Covert Action and Internal Operations, London: Routledge, 2016. Sreedhar, ‘Pakistan’s Economic Dilemma’, Strategic Analysis, Vol. 22, No. 3. Subrahmanyam, K., K.K. Hazari, B.G. Verghese and Satish Chandra, From Surprise to Reckoning: The Kargil Review Committee Report, New Delhi: Sage, 2000. Swami, Praveen, India, Pakistan and the Secret Jihad, London: Routledge, 2006. Swami, Praveen, ‘The Bungle in Kargil’, Frontline, June–July 1999, available at https://front line.thehindu.com/static/html/fl1613/16130040.htm, accessed on 27 September 2019.

226 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Swami, Praveen, ‘The Kargil Story’, Frontline, 2000, available at https://frontline.the hindu.com/static/html/fl1722/17220240.htm, accessed on 27 September 2019. Tankel, Stephen, Storming the World Stage: The Story of Lashkar-e-Taiba, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013. Tellis, Ashley J., Christine C. Fair and Jamison Jo Medby, ‘Limited Conflicts Under the Nuclear Umbrella: Indian and Pakistani Lessons from the Kargil Crisis, RAND Corporation’, 2001, available at www.rand.org/pubs/monograph_reports/MR1450. html#download, accessed on 23 September 2019. Thompson, Paul, ‘Pakistani ISI and/or Drug Connections’, 2003, available at https:// 911timeline.s3.amazonaws.com/main/AAisidrugs.html, accessed on 10 September 2019. Tufail, Kaiser, ‘Kargil Conflict and Pakistan Air Force’, Aeronaut, 28January 2009, available at http://kaiser-aeronaut.blogspot.com/2009/01/kargil-conflict-and-pakista n-air-force.html, accessed on 24 September 2019. Verma, A.K., ‘Kargil Committee Report and Intelligence’, South Asia Analysis Group, 16 May 2000, available at www.southasiaanalysis.org/note91, accessed on 25 September 2019. Wirtz, James J. and Surinder Rana, ‘Surprise at the top of the world: India’s systemic and intelligence failure’, in Peter R. Lavoy, Asymmetric Warfare in South Asia: The Causes and Consequences of the Kargil Conflict, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009. Wolpert, Stanley, Zulfi Bhutto of Pakistan: His Life and Times, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993. YouTube, ‘Najam Sethi - Kargil War – Part 2’, 14 May 2012, available at www.you tube.com/watch?v=V6QFHb5PRVQ&t=21s, accessed on 24 September 2019. Zehra, Nasim, From Kargil to the Coup: Events that Shook Pakistan, Lahore: Sang-e-Meel Publications, 2018.

Section IV

Indian Intelligence Culture in Perspective

8

Indian Intelligence Culture An Articulation

Introduction India’s experience with the 1962 and 1999 wars suggests that the strategic surprises were multicausal; in that, ‘policy failures’ were more credible explanations than ‘intelligence failures’. Now, we revisit the main argument of this book, i.e. intel­ ligence culture serves as a better explanation of intelligence-surprise dynamics than organisational level analyses of intelligence failures. In other words, it is essential to identify how a nation ‘thinks about’ and ‘does’ intelligence in order to better understand why organisational pathologies exist. In Part-II of this book, an attempt had been made to explore the evolution of ideas of intelligence in India, which served as the bedrock for understanding the post-independence Indian intelligence activities and performances. It was observed that a Kautilyan philoso­ phy of proactive intelligence and national security was sacrificed to a reserved approach in colonial and post-independence India. In this chapter, we shall examine how the Indian intelligence culture connects to the strategic surprises that were observed in Part III. This chapter identifies five key determinants that make India’s intelligence culture a catalyst for strategic surprises; the roots of which are found in India’s strategic culture.

Articulation of a Distinctive Intelligence Culture The main constraint in making a documentary analysis of India’s intelligence cul­ ture is the lack of a written charter or legal framework. It is, in fact, the lack of white papers and strategic doctrines/documents that has compelled Security Stu­ dies scholars to debate the nature and character of India’s strategic culture. Empirical observations, in this regard, have formed the basis for scholarly identifi­ cation of ideational clues on India’s national security. The case studies in this book have amply shown that there was a visible change in how the respective political leaders approached national security, which had an impact on the functioning of the intelligence agencies. Thus, it is prudent to argue that Indian intelligence cul­ ture heavily derives its shape and content from India’s strategic culture. In other words, the strength of India’s intelligence organisation, activity and product is determined by the strength of its strategic culture (see Figure 8.1). DOI: 10.4324/9781003296195-13

230 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Strategic Intelligence Product Strategic Intelligence Activity Strategic Intelligence Organisation

Strategic Culture

Figure 8.1 Indian Intelligence Culture: The Evolutionary Structure Source: Author

Whenever there was a visible change in strategic culture, as seen most predominantly in the 1971 case, transformations in intelligence perfor­ mances have followed. In the three sub-sections below, namely, restraint, ambiguity and autonomy, we shall briefly observe the elements of India’s strategic culture as the basis for India’s intelligence culture before moving on to examining its individual components.

Restraint From being proactive and integral in the Kautilyan statecraft to becoming reactive from the colonial period onwards, modern India’s intelligence culture clearly fits the restraint factor of India’s strategic culture. This restraint has flown in large part from the nation’s overall outlook as a Gandhian-Moralist nation and has been etched in the policy of Nehruvian non-alignment. Reflecting on India’s military policy and planning, scholars Stephen Cohen and Sunil Das­ gupta have asserted that there is a certain disconnect between India’s strategic purpose and military planning, which is a consequence of its strategic restraint.1 The argument has been that the non-violent guiding principles of India’s for­ eign policy have not allowed sufficient accommodation of military power. A similar argument can be made with regards to intelligence too. The earliest indications of restraint in intelligence came up during the Nehruvian era, which led to a lethargic development of intelligence bureau­ cracies in the decade following independence. To reiterate an important point mentioned in the introductory chapter, a revised foreign and strategic policy

Indian Intelligence Culture 231 document drafted in 2012 that sought to revive the Nehruvian idea of non­ alignment in its new version – Non-Alignment 2.0 – also had no real expression for the role of strategic intelligence.2 It was only during Indira Gandhi’s tenure that India truly began to shun its posture of restraint in line with the Indira Doctrine and provided the intelligence services a proactive role in India’s foreign policy. From then on, throughout the 20th century, India’s foreign policy oscillated between Nehru’s policy of restraint and Indira’s policy of proactiveness.3 Therefore, the effects of this dominant trait of India’s strategic culture have percolated down to its national security institutions, including the intelligence services.

Ambiguity The second prominent factor in India’s strategic culture is a remarked ‘ambiguity’ in national goals. Considering the lack of White Papers or Prime Ministerial doctrines, India is often dubbed as “an ambiguous rising power”.4 Such ambiguities are rationalised as a consequence of the “democratic ‘noise’ of India’s domestic politics” in which revelation of national objectives might incur unwanted domestic backlashes.5 Nevertheless, as Subrahmanyam has argued, such ambiguities have had a confusing effect on Indian politicians and bureaucracies as well.6 Consequently, the intelligence bureaucracies are left with considerable haziness about their roles, which has impacted their operations as well as organisational evolution. As the preceding chapters have noted, the functions of the Intelligence Bureau (IB) post-independence kept evolving in response to evolving threats. Similarly, the Research and Analysis Wing (R&AW), despite its birth as a dedicated foreign intelligence agency, was born of an executive order bereft of a legal charter. This has led to occasional ambiguities over its role and func­ tions.7 Thus, ambiguity as a strategic cultural trait has played a foundational role in shaping India’s intelligence organisations, roles and operations.

Autonomy Autonomy has been the basis for India’s international relations since 1947. During the Cold War, the policy of non-alignment was born out of a desire to maintain an autonomous decision-making ability that was not bogged down by alliance commitments. In the post-Cold War world, “strategic autonomy” has become the defining feature of India’s foreign policy.8 This facet is based largely on the premise that the power asymmetries within alliances will eventually consume the freedom of the weaker nation. The impact of this autonomy factor has been consistently visible on India’s international intelligence co-operation. Therefore, at the root of understanding India’s intelligence culture is its strategic culture and its key elements – restraint, ambiguity and autonomy. From this stra­ tegic culture has evolved the quality of India’s strategic intelligence organisation, activity and product. This collective Indian intelligence culture, i.e. how India

232 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises ‘thinks about’ and ‘does’ intelligence, comprises of five interconnected variables. These can be termed the ‘five pillars of strength’ that connect India’s intelligence culture with its strategic surprises.

Indian Intelligence Culture and the 1962, 1971 and 1999 Wars: An Assessment The multifactorial causation of strategic surprises in India finds its origins in India’s distinct intelligence culture. Arising out of the characteristics of its strategic culture as observed above are five key variables that have determined India’s intelligence-surprise dynamics during the 20th century. These are: • • • • •

Strength Strength Strength Strength Strength

of of of of of

intelligence leadership; intelligence organisation; covert action capabilities; consumer literacy; international relations.

The five determining factors are closely interrelated to one another. An expansion of each of them in relation to the three cases observed in this book is offered below.

Strength of Intelligence Leadership Throughout this book, the dominant role played by the intelligence leadership in guiding intelligence activities has been fairly consistent. Especially given India’s restraining and ambiguous character, with an insistence on autonomy, the role of leadership had been critical. During the 1950s the question facing the Indian intelligence leadership was not how to shape the intelligence bureaucracy. Rather it was how to ensure its survival. T.G. Sanjeevi, the first IB chief had failed to bring about foreign intelligence reforms despite his best intentions, owing mainly to his outspoken attitude in a culture that demanded subservience.9 It is in this context that one must observe Mullik’s emergence as the strongest intelligence chief of India. Both Sanjeevi and Mullik had a clear understanding that the development of foreign intelligence capabilities in India was impossible if reliance was laid on the political leadership. Sanjeevi had conveyed to the Americans that: “regardless of the official attitude of his government, he would welcome the continuance of unofficial contacts… as a policeman he frequently had to take independent action without the knowledge of his government”.10 Mullik also continued similar methods for organisational and professional development, in the absence of political support. The key difference in understanding why Mullik was able to achieve a lot more than Sanjeevi did,

Indian Intelligence Culture 233 lies in his assessment of the Indian political system where proximity and influ­ ence was unquestionably an essential condition to get things moving. One direct benefit of such proximity was that the intelligence reports promptly reached the highest levels of policymaking. On the downside, however, was the fact that the intelligence chiefs learnt the political mindset well enough to realise the limits to the influence they could assert on the decision-making process. It is in this context that the 1962 war becomes crucial. Until the outbreak of the war, Mullik had successfully played on Nehru’s fears of the IB being tied up with the British intelligence services, which helped develop the IB’s capabilities. However, such manoeuvres could not facilitate the development of capabilities required to maintain an intelligence advantage over China. Overcoming the innate aversion to secret means and covert action that Nehru had nurtured required a shock therapy like the 1962 offensive.11 Hence, when today’s intelligence officers regard Mullik as the ‘Father of Indian Intelligence’ who did more for their profession than anybody else, they are mostly referring to the developments that took place post the 1962 war when Nehru had shed his restraining approach. Reflecting on the pace and quality of Mullik’s work during that period, a Special Service Bureau (SSB) officer recollected: “as an organisation, we were born in May 1963. However, the official records show that volunteers were ready and put for training at Sarang in December 1962 – much before the organisation was even born. That’s B.N. Mullik!”12 If presented with suitable opportunities and political support, it is only plausible that Mullik could have achieved a lot more in developing India’s intelligence prowess in the decade he spent manoeuvring against Nehru’s reluctance. After Mullik, the only other intelligence chief to share a reputation for making unprecedented contributions to Indian intelligence is R.N. Kao. Like Mullik of 1963–64, Kao’s influence was also elevated only following the debacles of 1965 and 1967 against Pakistan and China, respectively. With unrestricted support from Indira Gandhi, Kao as the chief of the R&AW could outmanoeuvre bureaucratic opposition, while his own experience in foreign intelligence from the IB days allowed the development of a robust intelligence service that could predict the events in East Pakistan between 1968 and 1971 with pin-point accuracy. Kao, in this regard, was more fortunate than Mullik, to have received political patronage and guidance. Indira was not only clear about what kind of an agency India required, but was also actively involved in improving intelligence-policy relationship through her trusted aides. To illustrate, in 1971 P.N. Haksar, Indira’s Principal Secretary, realised that position and pay in bureaucracies were an important determinant of influence. Subsequently, Kao, was provided with the rank of an Additional Secretary to avoid bureaucratic tussle. Further, New Delhi also realised that the pay gap between the IB chief –considered the senior most police officer in India – and

234 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises the other intelligence managers was becoming an impediment in effective intelligence functioning. Thus, assessing the workload of the R&AW, the Central Bureau of Investigation and the Border Security Force, Haksar argued that equalising the pays of the Heads of all these organisations would bring in uniformity and much needed flexibility in the intelligence and security com­ munity.13 With such levels of intelligence-policy interactions, organisational capabilities also received a significant boost. Even when Indira returned to power in 1980, her first priority was to restructure the intelligence-policy relationship that her predecessors Morarji Desai and Charan Singh had wea­ kened. She sought: “as a first priority, to rationalise the activities of [R&AW] and other units of the Indian intelligence machine. Kao had been brought out of retire­ ment to take charge of this exercise…[It was identified that] the next priority was to create a single organisation whose task it would be to bring together the product of intelligence effort and the policy advice submitted by central ministries and convert them into agreed policy recommenda­ tions for the Prime Minister and her Cabinet”.14 Such measures were deemed necessary especially against the backdrop of the diminishing intelligence-policy relationship in the interim as a consequence of antagonistic posture adopted by the intervening political leadership towards the intelligence agencies. In 1977 the R&AW’s leadership received its first sig­ nificant blow, when Sankaran Nair, the agency’s top Pakistan analyst and a key player in the Bangladesh liberation episode was humiliated by the political leadership owing to suspicions that the agency had been involved in domestic political espionage under Indira Gandhi.15 To this day, former intelligence officials dread revisiting the Morarji era. Similar was the situation under his successor Charan Singh, where there were instances when the agencies had to demonstrate their prowess to ensure survivability. In one instance, Charan Singh wanted the SSB, which mostly comprised of villagers and countryside women, to be disbanded on suspicions that the cadres were being used to spy on politicians. The chief of the agency resisted and tried to explain to Singh the nature of the SSB’s work and its capabilities. Although the briefing did not change Singh’s opinion, it com­ pelled him to test the chief’s claims regarding the SSB’s capabilities. A female volunteer was chosen and tasked to infiltrate a well-guarded compound and produce a warning note that read “the Chinese have encircled us”. In about an hour, despite tight security control, the note reached the SSB commandant accompanying Singh in a box of rotis. Following a couple of more demon­ strations that established the agency’s prowess beyond doubt, the Prime Minister chose not to disturb the SSB for the rest of his tenure.16 Such instances highlight that the survival of the agencies in the face of uninformed political leadership depended heavily on the adroitness of the intelligence chiefs.

Indian Intelligence Culture 235 The 1980s saw a revival of the power and position of the intelligence lea­ dership with the return of Indira Gandhi. The agency enjoyed similar support and influence under Indira’s successor Rajiv Gandhi. While the Morarji era is much dreaded, the Rajiv tenure is the most fondly remembered era by former intelligence officers. But even here, there were cases when the strength of the intelligence leadership in determining intelligence-policy relationship became visible. An R&AW officer of the era observed that: “S.E. Joshi, [R&AW chief under Rajiv] always held the belief that it is not the job of the R&AW to formulate policies. Its job is to give intelligence to others to formulate policy”.17 This observation was made in the context of the 1987 Indo-Sri Lanka Peace Accord that was signed without sufficient intelligence basis and led to disastrous consequences. Thus, the proximity of the intelligence leadership to the political leadership notwithstanding, the former has not always been able to influence the latter, which reinforces the argument that the strength of the leadership is absolutely crucial. After Rajiv, the decade leading to the Kargil crisis witnessed six regime changes in New Delhi. Each regime change also caused a change in intelligence leadership, which is commonly regarded as the ‘predecessor syndrome’; aimed at undoing whatever was done under the previous regime. Also, by 1999 the strength of the intelligence leadership was further weakened with the creation of the position of National Security Adviser (NSA). Brajesh Mishra, the first NSA, with no prior intelligence experience simultaneously served as the Principal Secretary to the Prime Minister, thereby, channelling all intelligence through him. Arvind Dave, despite wearing two hats as the chief of both the R&AW and the JIC, was not as influential as Mullik or Kao, to shape the intelligence-policy relationship in any meaningful way.18 In such a scenario, the agency’s doubts over Pakistan’s com­ mitment towards peace following the nuclear tests and Bus Diplomacy could not be imposed on unwilling consumers. Hence, by the end of the 20th century, the strength of the intelligence leadership was arguably one of the key factors of Indian intelligence culture determining its intelligence-surprise dynamics. This factor reached its peak during the early 1970s, when concomitant improvements in intelligence performances were observed. Where the strength of the intelligence leader­ ship has been exiguous, leading to strategic surprises (1962 and 1999), policies have largely been formulated bereft of strategic intelligence foundations. Closely connected to this factor is the strength of the intelligence organisation that forms the next determinant of the intelligence-surprise dynamics.

Strength of Intelligence Organisation The organisational strengths and weaknesses reflected in personnel selection, manpower management and institutional capacity to produce strategic

236 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises assessments form the second key determinant of strategic surprises in India. Across the world, this factor garners more attention in investigations of intelligence failures and surprises. However, in India, the role of the intelli­ gence managers is far-reaching. The divergent experiences of the intelligence leadership with political leaders, as elaborated above, forms the bedrock in determining the organisational prowess of Indian intelligence. Under Mullik, the Ear Marking Scheme (EMS) devised for recruitment drew the best talent from the Indian Police Service (IPS). Although the EMS gave the IB a sense of homogeneity, the downside was that the IPS came to monopolise the intelligence business. The failure to correctly assess the Chinese intentions in 1962 can partly be attributed to the police dominance. Trained mostly in internal security duties and holding expertise in aspects of interna­ tional communism, the IB was more informed than any other institution in India about the Chinese threat. However, devoid of a multidimensional view of the enemy, the bureau was unable to understand the nature of the military threat posed by China. In short, the IB correctly assessed the ideological expansionism of China, but not its military dimension. To rectify this fallacy, Indira Gandhi had specifically instructed the R&AW to not replicate a central police organisation. For the first time, with the birth of R&AW in 1968, India gained an external intelligence agency that was diverse and suited for the intelligence profession. Unlike the IB, where talented policemen were trained in areas of interest, the R&AW sought to directly recruit individuals with specific areas of expertise. Training was more to amplify the operational skills required for intelligence work. Technical capabilities also improved, which further strengthened the quality of the strategic intelligence product. For instance, by 1972 the R&AW’s SIGINT facility was capable of overhearing hours of conversation between Pakistan’s Prime Minister Zulfikar Ali Bhutto and “his Paris based French friend with a Greek name”, which gave India complete knowledge of Pakistan’s nuclear programme.19 Therefore, observing the 1971 case, although it cannot be authoritatively established, owing to lack of sufficient evidence, that the diversity of cadre played a direct role in liberating Bangladesh, there is no gainsaying that the diversity had eradicated several cognitive barriers and pathologies that came with a single service dominance. The irony after 1977 was that the insistence on cadre diversity that gave the organisation its strength became its biggest challenge. This aspect once again reiterates why the role of leadership was profound in Indian intelligence culture. Under Kao, the R&AW had emerged as one of the most desirable organisations for educated Indians. While risk-taking and a flair for intelligence profession naturally attracted talented individuals, there was the added advantage that the R&AW analyst was one of the most well-paid employees in the country, even competing with some in the private sector.20 All this gave the agency an excel­ lent pool of talented individuals, which was known as the Research and Analysis Service that could be used in both operational and analytical roles. However, the issue that became belatedly evident was that – attaining optimum benefits from

Indian Intelligence Culture 237 the existing recruitment strategy depended entirely on the direction and oversight by the agency’s leadership. The ramifications of not having clearly established methods of recruitment only began to emerge after the Morarji government decided to oust several of the agency’s employees. The open-market recruitment system that had operated under the supervision of Kao and his lieutenants was discontinued in 1977. When Kao returned in 1980 as an adviser to the Prime Minister, the agency realised the need to replenish its lost cadres. In the mid-1980s an attempt was made to formalise recruitment and training criteria under G.C. Saxena that focused on operational and psychological conditioning.21 The second phase of recruitment continued from 1985 to 1992. Between 1985 and 1987 direct examinations and interviews were conducted, and from 1987 onwards the Union Public Service Commission (UPSC) became the examining body.22 A task force organised by the Institute of Defence Studies and Analysis noted that: “the quality was much better in the second phase of recruitment, with the new entrants displaying greater confidence in their own abilities and acquiring expertise over a period of time”.23 The task force also observed that the UPSC route for recruitment had not borne rich dividends considering that the top scorers in the UPSC examina­ tions seldom preferred to join the R&AW. The reason for the R&AW’s poor manpower management is often blamed on the alleged nepotism that drove direct recruitment to the agency. The open market recruitment drive had resulted in close relatives and associates of senior bureaucrats, politicians and military personnel being absorbed into the agency, which gave birth to a popular epithet known as the ‘Relatives and Associates Wing’.24 It has almost become ritualistic for all open source material on the R&AW to make references to this aspect. A.S. Dulat, a former chief of R&AW, who had spent three decades working in the IB, commented that: “Mr. Kao had great ideas, but somehow it didn’t work like that. For the problems that the R&AW faces, I blame the founding fathers. Mullik ensured that the IB was largely homogenous. What truly ails the R&AW is its own inability compounded by government’s ambivalence in charting a clear course for it”.25 Even some R&AW officers believe that Kao should have somehow avoided this. Yet, they also admit that there was no other alternative since it was a question of ‘trust’. A relative of a known official was considered more trust­ worthy than some unknown person being picked up from the open market.26 This handicap had indeed allowed a certain degree of nepotism to flourish in the agency, where in one instance, a single family was known to have had 24 members working for the agency.27 Nevertheless, on close scrutiny, it is also

238 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises arguable that criticisms of this particular factor has actually been blown out of proportion, much to the detriment of the agency’s progress. Although the recommendation for candidates came from persons of importance, recruitment to the agency was not guaranteed merely on the basis of their influential backgrounds. The candidates were subject to scrupulous psychological and intellectual tests, and in one instance, from a group of 300 such recommended candidates, only six were selected.28 After selection, the training curriculum was also not an easy walk. As a consequence of intensive training and experience, many such recruits rose up to the ranks of Additional and Special Secretaries. That they did not become Secretary is more a reflection of the IPS’s domination rather than their own professional shortcomings. Even independent observers have concluded that since the lateral entrants have had to survive in an environment dominated by top bureaucrats, they have shown greater motivation and enthusiasm to excel in their craft.29 Thus, there was certainly a method to this madness that had enabled the sustenance of a diverse cadre while not making compromises on quality. On the contrary, termination of open-market recruit­ ment on the assumption of rectifying the ills of nepotism gave rise to far greater challenges in the following years. The 1990s began with a simultaneous repudiation of direct recruitment alongside the privatisation of Indian economy that opened up several other avenues for employment. As the R&AW’s areas of concern expanded to include transnational terrorism and organised crime in the early 1990s, its resources kept crippling, owing to the sombre state of the Indian economy. Provision of loans by international financial institutions were conditioned on structural adjustments, which had a crippling effect on intelligence budgets.30 Amid these developments, what replaced the direct recruitment has, in fact, caused more damage than the supposedly nepotistic model of recruitment. The agency resorted to deputation from other services with the sole motive of minimising the influence of the IPS. While the IPS continued to maintain its clout in the agency, the deputationists have significantly damaged the agency’s collection and analysis capabilities. An officer who had spent a considerable number of years as a China analyst and, thereby, been closely acquainted with the challenges posed by the deputation system on intelligence analysis observed that: “intelligence profession needs fresh blood. You don’t need people from other services who have already been coached to think in a certain way. Coming after years of service [elsewhere, they] are not willing to learn”.31 When pressed hard, the deputationists have always enjoyed the privilege of untimely return to their parent services.32 Owing to these changes, the R&AW began to resemble any other bureaucracy muddled with internal tussles between direct recruits and deputationists. In the absence of able leaders like Kao or political patronage as received under Indira, organisational challenges continued to persist. Therefore, by the turn of the new millennium, the

Indian Intelligence Culture 239 R&AW had been significantly weakened in comparison to the agency that operated during 1971. The failure of 1999 can partly be linked to the shrinking manpower capabilities since the agency’s Kargil station lacked adequate staff and technological capability. But more importantly, the chaotic human resource management had caused difficulties in other activities of knowledge production, most importantly, covert action, which forms the third factor in India’s intelligence culture determining the occurrence of strategic surprises.

Strength of Covert Action Capabilities Covert actions involve a wide range of activities like propaganda and psychological operations, political and economic actions, and paramilitary action. What is less appreciated is the fact that covert action requires the development and main­ tenance of an infrastructure in the target country that provides an excellent source for intelligence collection.33 Countries that have relied extensively on technical platforms at the cost of HUMINT networks have suffered in the conduct of covert actions. Todd Stiefler, for instance, concluded after studying the patterns and effects of U.S. covert action that: “there is a compelling reason to question the impact of changing technolo­ gical capabilities on CIA preferences: the abundance of intelligence failures that occurred after the advent of more advanced collection systems”.34 Hence, given that covert actions demand the sustenance of a human network, the strength of a nation’s covert action capability in its target nation becomes a strong determinant of the strength of its intelligence coverage of that nation. In both 1962 and 1999 the intelligence agencies had clear instructions to not exhibit any behaviour, overtly or covertly, that would derail the peace initia­ tives. These time specific decisions notwithstanding; the agencies’ covert action capabilities were systematically crippled in the decades preceding the events. Nehru’s aversion to secret means resulted in India missing a crucial opportunity to establish intelligence advantage over China. From the early 1950s the Tibetans had shown a keen interest in covert operations against the Chinese. However, the Indian position was divided between Nehru’s reluctance and Mullik’s enthusiasm. Kalimpong was home to Gyalo Thondup, brother of the Dalai Lama, who was particularly interested in covert operations, but utterly disappointed with Nehru’s reluctance to help the Tibetan cause. Even in 1959 Thondup had met Mullik and requested a training centre for the Tibetan resistance fighters, which never materialised.35 The unofficial assistance that the IB provided was insufficient for the Tibetans to act as India’s first line of defence against China. Sangey, a Special Frontier Force (SFF) commando, who was trained for this purpose after the 1962 war commented that “we would not have left Tibet if we had these weapons and training at that time”.36 With such high levels of reluctance towards covert operations, the IB efforts to develop a source base in Tibet were significantly stymied.

240 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises By 1971 Indira Gandhi’s directive to create the R&AW specifically sought a covert action component. Subsequently, the DGS – created post-1962 – was subsumed under the R&AW and became its covert operations wing. The agency’s strategic leadership had, since its inception, begun developing contacts with important sections of the Bengali society in East Pakistan to serve as covert operatives. It was this human infrastructure, in addition to the ‘behind enemy lines’ operations conducted by the DGS, that gave the agency a com­ plete strategic intelligence picture of the enemy. An R&AW officer, who later perused the classified files in the agency’s archives in Calcutta, thus, exclaimed: “I was astounded, terribly astounded, when I read those old records. Our penetration into East Pakistan was so deep. P.N. Banerjee was a personal friend of Sheikh Mujib, and we had pinpoint intelligence up to battalion level. What more would New Delhi want?”37 Throughout the 1970s until the early 1990s the R&AW maintained a strong covert action component, which was in no small measure driven by the suc­ cesses of 1971.38 However, organisational weaknesses, especially emerging out of flawed recruitment policies, began to present a critical challenge to the R&AW’s covert action capabilities. The risk-aversion that the recruitment system brought in became a huge barrier in deploying deep penetration agents in the enemy’s territory. In order to facilitate better understanding of this factor, it is essential to understand the operational and organisational structures of the R&AW. When Kao created the R&AW, although structural inspiration was drawn from the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and the agency was divided into operational and analytical desks, the demarcation was not watertight. Officers served both on operational and analytical desks to formally acquaint each other with the demands and limitations of each other’s crafts.39 This meant that an intelligence officer would be thoroughly immersed in all facets of spy-craft as well as the concerned subject matter, which would in turn facilitate improved source development and analysis.40 Gradually, however, owing to the flawed deputation-driven recruitment system, field postings became arbitrary and wor­ sened the capability of the officers to maintain informer networks. As former spymaster Vikram Sood explained, “we don’t pick up a man because he is a Pakistan expert with significant knowledge… we don’t have that system”.41 The generalist cadre was subject to constant rotation between desks, where a brief “familiarisation process” was initiated, following which the lessons had to be picked up on the field.42 The inherent lack of subject matter expertise, along with the agency’s rotational policies, were bound to have negative consequences. Adding to this was the agency’s posting format, which directly impacted certain core functions such as maintaining a healthy handler-agent relationship. Foreign postings became increasingly disconnected from the mission objec­ tives. Western capitals like Washington, Rome, Paris, etc. being classified as ‘A’ postings were high-pay, low-risk destinations. These posts were given priority

Indian Intelligence Culture 241 over the ‘B’ postings which were deemed risky destinations but were of immediate consequence to India.43 “Everyone wants to go to Brussels, nobody wants to go to Kandahar”, said former spymaster Vikram Sood.44 As a result, to a country like Pakistan, “often posting has been arbitrary—you just pick up somebody and say, go to Islamabad”, noted A.S. Dulat, another spy chief.45 The combined ills of rotational policies, generalist cadre and arbitrary postings were further accentuated by the genuinely required policies such as compartmentalisation. The R&AW has had a highly compartmentalised structure with “need to know” patterns of func­ tioning. Only when certain cases require collaborations – as in the case of tracking Pakistan’s nuclear programme – have analysts and operatives cutting across desks come together.46 Thus, the combined challenge posed by the desire for strong intelligence leadership, chaotic organisational and manpower management, and decrepit covert action capability, had begun to impact the strategic intelligence product by the 1990s. In the run-up to Kargil, not just the R&AW, the DGS, which was created specifically for covert operations, had become embroiled in allegations of several forms of corruption. The Aviation Research Centre (ARC), for instance, had a budget larger than the R&AW’s operations budget. However, the ARC was being used as “unofficial air taxi service for senior government officials”.47 Much worse, media reports of the time indicated that the ARC flights were also used to ferry smuggled goods, since their aircrafts were outside the purview of normal customs and airport checks.48 Similarly, the SFF had also been accused of illegal ferrying of timber.49 The most significant damage to the force’s morale came during the early 1980s when a scandal involving nearly 500 female personnel indicated that its headquarters at Chakrata had become more of a bordello than a secret intelligence outfit. Media reports derided the force as “Sexual Freedom Force”.50 Subsequently, both Indian Army officers and Tibetans had developed a deep-seated reluctance to be associated with the SFF. Therefore, by the time of the 1999 war, the organisational capacity of the R&AW and the DGS to sustain covert action capabilities of the 1970s and 1980s fame was seriously diminished. Furthermore, in 1996 Prime Minister I.K. Gujral, in pursuance of a policy based on non-reciprocity, had ordered the closure of the R&AW’s covert action units engaged in counterterrorism in Pakistan.51 Thus, although the R&AW’s analysts had assessed Pakistan’s beha­ viour in the aftermath of the nuclear tests quite accurately, only a stronger organisational setup supported by a time-tested covert action infrastructure could have possibly revealed the developments across Kargil. In its absence, as the case chapter noted, the agency was heavily reliant on untrustworthy and nebulous sources for strategic information. Therefore, the failure of the IB and the R&AW to maintain an advantage in intelligence collection on China and Pakistan in 1962 and 1999, respectively, is owed in large part to the agencies’ feeble covert action infrastructure. One of the main reasons for weak covert action capabilities is the political leadership’s lack of understanding of the intelligence tradecraft. This, as well as the fact that available warnings in the 1962 and 1999 cases were not given

242 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises sufficient attention, reflect the consumer’s misplaced methodology in using intelligence for decision-making. This forms the fourth factor in India’s intelli­ gence culture determining the intelligence-surprise dynamics – explored below.

Strength of Consumer Literacy Here, literacy refers to intelligence literacy, not generic literacy.52 In fact, when Indian intelligence consumers have had overconfidence in their generic lit­ eracy, their intelligence literacy has paradoxically been observed to shrink. The three main consumers of India’s foreign intelligence – the political leadership, the diplomats and the military – have had varied evolutionary experiences from the colonial period that have shaped their knowledge and application of the intelligence profession. Political Consumers So far as the political leadership is concerned, it has been observed in Part II that Nehru was caught in a dilemma between fulfilling India’s national security objectives through peaceful means and not using the British era intelligence institutions in support of his peace agendas. Nehru’s writings on intelligence have a huge potential to mislead the reader into believing that his thoughts on intelligence were driven by critical thinking and intellectualism. However, careful scrutiny exposes the condescension in his tone when referring to the intelligence profession. Numerous baseless allegations that were levelled against the intelligence agencies are a clear reflection of Nehru’s limited understanding of the intelligence profession.53 From the time of the Nehru years, until the end of the 20th century, barring the years of Indira Gandhi and Rajiv Gandhi, there had been a general tendency for the political leadership to either display intellectual superiority over the agency’s assessments or a disinterest towards the intelligence profession. One of the best starting points for observing the relationship between political consumers and the intelligence services is to identify the tasking mechanisms. Principally, there are two ways of tasking – demand driven tasking (pull) from the consumer end, supply driven tasking (push) wherein the tasking procedures emerge at the levels of the intelligence managers and analysts.54 Given that the U.K. follows a ‘demand driven tasking’ system, and that Indian intelligence organisations trace their roots to the colonial period, it would seem that India too followed a similar path. However, this is only in theory. In practice, decision making throughout the 20th century had been arbitrary – led by the intellect of the political leader – and tasking from the political consumers, whenever it hap­ pened, happened only belatedly. The list of a few key decisions taken arbitrarily leading to strategically disastrous consequences are as follows: • •

Nehru’s signing of the Panchsheel Agreement; Indira Gandhi’s declaration of ceasefire and ending the 1971 war;

Indian Intelligence Culture 243 • •

Rajiv Gandhi’s signing of the Indo-Sri Lanka Peace Accord; and Vajpayee’s signing of the Lahore Declaration.

In the period between Rajiv and Vajpayee, P.V. Narasimha Rao (1991–96), was the only leader to complete his five-year tenure. Like Nehru, even he considered his intellectualism and diplomatic methods of conflict resolution superior to intelligence means. His spy chief, Narasimhan, tactfully com­ mented that “Rao had his own perceptions about things, but never imposed his thoughts”.55 Other intelligence officers, however, have been candid in accepting that Rao gave more prominence to his own intellectualism than intelligence assessments.56 Likewise, I.K. Gujaral, the most intellectual prime minister since Nehru saw no issue in winding up the R&AW’s operations under the false belief that benevolence as the foundation of foreign policy would be similarly reciprocated by other nations. Thus, wherever the political leadership has enjoyed a certain degree of intellectualism and foreign expo­ sure, the tendency to downplay the importance of intelligence agencies has been great. Such lack of interest and involvement by the political leadership in the intel­ ligence processes can be cited as the main reason for the emphasis laid on the role of intelligence leadership in India’s intelligence culture. While avoidance of politicisation of intelligence demands that the intelligence services and their political consumers maintain a certain distance between each other, some areas that demand close co-operation had largely gone unaddressed, owing to the lack of consumer literacy. For instance, many of the organisational shortcomings in the form of recruitment noted earlier could have been rectified with better interference from the political leadership. Left to the intelligence leaders alone, emergent crises within the organisation had been managed but not rectified. The apparent lack of political interest in strategic intelligence becomes stark when we observe the fate of the Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC). One of the oldest serving organisations, the JIC has only been a “talking shop” for representatives of various agencies, and often a “parking space” for unwanted bureaucrats.57 Operationally, it shares a consensual-collegiate culture with its British counterpart, but the final product in India has never attained the sig­ nificance it has in the British system.58 The strength of the organisation has been entirely dependent on the ability of the Chairman JIC to influence other agencies and build consensus. Unfortunately, this has been credible only when K. Subrahmanyam held the position.59 The following excerpt from the IDSA task force report perfectly connects the insignificant clout of the JIC to the lack of intelligence education among the political leadership: “The JIC, as an evaluator and coordinator of intelligence, was marginalised. Its product rarely received the attention it deserved. It had not political sup­ port and was not nurtured to play its required role. Accordingly, it had no clout within the system. It is no surprise, therefore, that the intelligence

244 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises agencies tended to bypass the JIC in their keenness to be seen as being the first to provide important information at the highest level”.60 In all the three cases observed in this book, the JIC played a less than significant role. Only during 1971, when the consumers had a better appreciation for strategic intelligence, did all-source assessment become central to policymaking, albeit produced by the Chiefs of Staff Committee. The dire position of the JIC in the Indian system is, therefore, a direct consequence of consumer illiteracy in matters of intelligence exacerbated by overconfidence in their own intellectual faculties.61 Diplomatic Consumers With regards to the diplomatic community, the 1962 war has exposed the earliest instance of a diplomat obstructing the posting of an intelligence officer. Similar restraining actions had been shown by the diplomatic community in the later decades as well.62 Arguably, one of the main reasons for this is the Gandhian-Nehruvian principles adopted by the diplomatic community. As articulated by a scholar of Indian diplomacy: “Lacking formal training in the rationality that makes requisite the artof-politics, the MEA keeps to Gandhi’s example in the manner of rote learning as opposed to the instinct of logic. Indian diplomacy therefore became practically Gandhian, but by being purely principled, opened itself to an unanswerable challenge: why choose this principle over that? And yet, Gandhi’s rationale as principled Nehruvian diplomacy persisted”.63 Seen through this prism, intelligence illiteracy among Indian diplomats was an extension of the aversion to secret means that the political leadership had installed in them. This has caused considerable challenges to the intelligence agencies since they relied heavily on diplomatic covers for officers posted abroad.64 Adoption of an official/diplomatic cover for intelligence work naturally means that the intelligence officer’s movement in the target country remains by and large restricted. Besides, the Nehruvian principles of transparency lay in direct contravention to the secretive nature of the intelligence tradecraft. Thus, in the worst-case scenarios, lacking sufficient security consciousness, the diplomats have harmed the intelligence interests by going as far as revealing the identity of the intelligence officers to their counterparts.65 One such notable illustration was found in the records of the British Foreign and Commonwealth Office. In May 1982 Indian diplomat A.K. Damodaran was in conversation with British diplomats Christopher Mallaby and Alan Bailey. His revelations on Indian intelligence matters had taken the British completely by surprise. The latter noted:

Indian Intelligence Culture 245 “[Damodaran] was surprisingly open and frank…He seemed quite unaware that the attitudes towards things British, particularly in South Block, had undergone a sea change… V.B. Soni, who took copious notes throughout, was visibly discomfited by a number of Damodaran’s observations about the organisation of the Indian intelligence services, but could do little but grin and bear it”.66 Similarly, lack of security consciousness is even found among the families of the diplomats posted abroad who do not identify intelligence officers as one of their own. An intelligence officer is cited in the media stating that: “when he was posted to the US, diplomats’ wives would make clear, and snobbish, statements that IB officers were not “one of us”. This naturally makes people suspicious. It destroys our credibility. Nor are our names ever included in diplomatic lists. So, when we go abroad, we are trained to operate as though the opposition knows who we are”.67 Notwithstanding numerous such examples, there have been a few exceptions that reinforce the argument that individuals with better intelligence literacy are the true drivers of India’s foreign intelligence machinery. For instance, during the R&AW’s formative years, the resistance put up by diplomats against the posting of intelligence officers owed to the perception that the Indian Foreign Service was superior to the IPS. This problem was resolved temporarily through the interference of T.N. Kaul, the then Foreign Secretary, with whom Kao shared a good rapport.68 Even at operational levels, episodic co-operation between select individuals from the diplomatic and intelligence communities has yielded positive results. Former diplomat and later Deputy NSA, Latha Reddy recollected how political reports to New Delhi were significantly enriched by the inputs offered by the R&AW officer posted in the diplomatic mission.69 She added that brainstorming and close working relationship was the order of the day. Such collaborations, according to her, have enabled the diplomats to better comprehend the capabilities and requirements of the intelligence personnel. Subsequent to Latha Reddy’s efforts, B. Raman, a former R&AW officer, highlighted the commendable role played by Reddy in supporting the agency’s counterterrorism efforts during her tenure in Portugal, and also the TECHINT improvements made during her tenure as deputy NSA.70 Nevertheless, reflecting on the primacy of individuals and their interpersonal relationships, Latha Reddy also admitted that: “a lot depends on the ambassador and how he/she treats the R&AW. I think if it is skilfully managed it is very advantageous to have an intelli­ gence man there”.71 The IDSA task force report on intelligence reform noted that intelligencediplomacy relationship could be improved through periodic meetings between

246 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises the Foreign Secretary and the Secretary (R) – designation of the R&AW chief – to discuss and develop “joint plans of action for the quarter, half-year or year”.72 In the past, this formula has worked in a few instances. One former spymaster indeed acknowledged that this is what happened during his time. In his words: “tasking is personality based and not institutional. During my time, the Foreign Secretary and I would sit and discuss short-term and long-term plans. Then terrorism came and made it even shorter since the govern­ ments just wanted to know when the next attack was coming. They were least interested in strategically important matters”.73 Therefore, it is evident that the evolution of intelligence literacy among the diplomatic community in 20th century India had been troubled and offered mixed results.74 Yet, it must be noted that in comparison to the political and military consumers, the intelligence officers tend to hold the diplomats in a more favourable light. Military Consumers With respect to the military, a similar illiteracy as that of the political leadership was visible throughout the 20th century. Although the military’s low-grading of the intelligence profession dates back to the colonial period, it is noteworthy that there had been no political interference to improve such matters, which is supposed to be the bedrock of civil-military relations in a democracy. On the contrary, political interference had only weakened the military intelligence setup as part of the strategy of “coup proofing”.75 After the debacle of 1962, a review of the military intelligence setup in India resulted in the formation of a three-tier system focused on intelligence acquisition, counterintelligence and security. Functioning under the Director-General of Military Intelligence (DGMI) were the Intelligence Field Security Units (IFSU), which gathered operational level foreign intelligence. The reviewers had advised that the DGMI should be from the intelligence corps. But, invariably most of the offi­ cers occupying the position have been operational officers. The Indian Army’s rationale for appointing an operational officer as the DGMI was that, being the end-user, it allowed for better tasking of the intelligence apparatus.76 Even the officers who moved to the IFSU have largely been motivated by perks, rather than penchant for the job.77 Therefore, as a cultural attribute, the operational officers in the army have held greater respect than their intelligence colleagues, thereby, making the intelligence profession less attractive. Two renowned Army officers Karim and Bhaduri have made an intriguing observation in this regard: “The Indian Army’s record of not using available intelligence at the plan­ ning level is legendary. In the mid-eighties particularly, it had become a favourite excuse at operational levels”.78

Indian Intelligence Culture 247 In this regard, it has been observed that the intelligence corps has largely been a ‘dumping ground’ or ‘refugee corps’.79 The situation was much worse in the other two services where the necessity of an intelligence corps had been replaced by an individual officer assuming the positions of Assistant Chief of Air Staff and Principal Director Naval Intelligence respectively.80 The other recommendation made by the post-1962 review committee was to draw military attaches from the intelligence corps. However, the appoint­ ment of attaches remained largely ad hoc. Similarly, the selection of military advisers to Indian diplomatic missions abroad has also been erratic. Only a handful of countries like Tajikistan and Afghanistan, to name a few, have had military advisors belonging to the intelligence corps. This is not to assert that drawing personnel from the intelligence corps would have had a qualitative impact on the functioning of the advisors. Given that the cultural antipathy towards intelligence had denied the deputation of the best talent to the intelligence corps, some of the necessary skills were naturally found outside the intelligence corps. For instance, in the mid-1990s the military advisor posted in China was unable to translate to the Army Chief the conversations of a Chinese delegate during a party. The reason was that the military advisor was unacquainted with the dialect spoken by the Chinese delegate. Subse­ quently, it was decided that officers occupying such crucial positions would be drawn from outside the intelligence corps where aspects such as linguistic capabilities were relatively stronger.81 Like the military’s reserved approach to service intelligence officers, rela­ tionship between the military and civilian intelligence services also remained chaotic. As observed in Chapter 5, the earliest friction between the military and the IB came over the question of rank allocation to the IB’s civilian analysts who were sent to the military intelligence training school. This problem of rank disparity was later inherited by the R&AW. Army officers of the rank of Major General were given an equivalent of Joint Secretary rank in the R&AW. Sometimes officers with about 25 years of experience in the armed forces were given ranks as per civil service norms on deputation. Consequently, better career prospects in the armed forces forbade officers from deputation to the agency.82 Most of the officers who were deputed to the R&AW were mostly on the verge of retirement or deemed unfit for active duty.83 In such a sce­ nario, the system required a flexible ranking model. A former R&AW officer, while in service, had argued vehemently in favour of the idea, but it was turned down by the Department of Personnel.84 As a result, throughout the 20th century, the R&AW’s 21 military postings had either been inadequately filled by tri-service officers or filled by officers of questionable competency. In the event, the military was seen constantly complaining about the quality of intel­ ligence furbished by the R&AW. In addition, the military’s insufficient literacy in matters of intelligence had led to unnecessary wastage of resources. A steady demand for technical intelli­ gence capabilities was maintained while the training required to optimally exploit the existing technologies had left much to be desired. The origins of

248 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises this quest for technical solutions owes in large part to the military’s aversion to intellectual solutions. One particular area where this factor emerges strongly is the military’s constant desire for better communications intercep­ tion facilities while concomitant efforts to improve linguistic capabilities to decipher the intercepted messages is found wanting. Prior to the Kargil War, the MI had a budget and manpower bigger than that of the R&AW; and, a signals intelligence (SIGINT) component comparable to the U.S. National Security Agency or the British Government Communications Head­ quarters.85 The 1962 defeat had given birth to a tri-service SIGINT Direc­ torate; whose head rose to the rank of Major General in 1983. Once satellites came into play, the armed forces widened the ambit of SIGINT analysis and a new organisation – Defence Imagery Processing and Analysis Centre– was formed to analyse the imagery intelligence. The SIGINT Directorate mostly relied on terrestrial assets to intercept electromagnetic and communication waves. The organisation is an extremely secretive one, little has been written about it, but its effectiveness is widely acknowledged.86 However, what is remarkable is that its collection capability was offset by weaknesses in decryption capabilities – a problem largely attributable to the lack of linguists in the military.87 To understand the Army’s penchant for technological procurement over improving intellectual capabilities, it is important to observe the larger phenomenon of professional military education in India. Professional intel­ ligence education and professional military education, although different in purposes, they do meet in terms of equipping the analysts towards better understanding the enemy.88 Education in the military, as opposed to train­ ing, is meant to intellectually prepare military officers for an uncertain future. In the 1962 case, the surprise was more a result of flawed military planning than the fact that a surprise offensive occurred. Even the best intelligence agency in the world could not have picked up the ongoing Cuban Missile Crisis, much less analysed its implications for India’s national security.89 However, a professional Army High-Command could have vetoed an irrational military plan that eventually led to the rout of the IV Infantry Division. This could have possibly been averted if the Indian Army had a historic appreciation of Chinese military tactics. In retrospect, it appears that, what China was doing was significant only in relation to what India’s own forces were doing or planning to do.90 Hence, the Indian military planning, vis-à-vis the Chinese military threat, comprised an actionreaction cycle that could only be controlled through a holistic under­ standing the People’s Liberation Army’s modus operandi. As observed in the 1962 case chapter, the Chinese replayed the allurement tactics that were employed against the Americans in Korea, to which the Indians had paid no attention. Although this is an argument in retrospect, such findings cement the view that education in the military was shorthanded. Anit Mukherjee, writing 55 years later, commented:

Indian Intelligence Culture 249 “an unfortunate by-product of leaving curricula development to the mili­ tary has been the neglect of military history… As a result, war colleges do not cultivate or engage with military historians”.91 Mukherjee’s conclusions have been echoed by senior Army Officers like Major General P.K. Mallick, who have written that officers in higher ranks are selected on the basis of “job performance rather than for the excellencies of their intellect”, and subjects “that are necessary to gain a deeper under­ standing of the nature and character of war, military history along with war games, military psychology and leadership are often overlooked”.92 In none of the war colleges, were civilians admitted as faculty members. Between 1971 and 1972 a “Higher Command Course” was introduced, most probably after the 1962 and 1965 blunders; but a proposal to induct three civilian professors for International Affairs, Applied Economics and Defence Management was turned down by the Chiefs of Staff Committee.93 Military officers usually served as faculty, focusing on tactical level studies rather than higher direction of war and strategy. This largely obstructed innovative thinking in consonance with the changing strategic environment.94 Hence, if lack of open market recruitment created a generalist class of ana­ lysts in the R&AW, the military too had fallen short on critical thinking. The Kargil War was thus a surprise in the sense that the number of possibilities available to Pakistan post the nuclear tests remained incomprehensible to the military that operated solely on its deterrent value and focused on terrorism. This led the Indian Army to plan and prepare from a counterterrorism and counterinsurgency perspective, unaware that a limited war was in the offing. Therefore, the lack of intelligence literacy among the political and military consumers in India has placed India in defiance of two predominant theories observed in Intelligence Studies: •

•

First, India thoroughly defies the “Kahn’s Law” that posits that intelligence is the key component of the defensive power while offensive parties tend to focus mostly on counterintelligence.95 It is logical that a defensive power would be in constant pursuit of accurate and reliable intelligence because the entire deterrence strategy has to reside on such foreknowledge. However, given that the Indian political leadership has relied heavily on its own intellectualism and power of diplomacy, India, despite being a defensive power, stands in total defiance of the Kahn’s Law. Second, both the 1962 and 1999 cases, as well as the arguments presented above, have highlighted that the Indian military had vastly invested in operational knowledge at the cost of intelligence. Consequently, intelli­ gence had mostly been a causality in post-mortems of failures instead of a component in planning. In this, the Indian case runs counter to the pro­ minent belief held by Western intelligence scholarship that “military intelligence inclines toward ‘worst-case’ analysis in planning, and toward ‘best-case’ analysis in operational evaluation”.96 Both the 1962 and 1999

250 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises failures denote that one of the causes of surprise was the Indian military’s planning for the ‘best-case’ scenario while the intelligence agencies had warned otherwise.

Strength of International Relations The fifth pillar in Indian intelligence culture influencing its intelligence-surprise dynamics is the strength of India’s foreign policies and international relations. The self-interest-driven nature of international politics has the potential to impact the development of strategic intelligence in mixed ways. Where inter­ ests meet, there is a tendency for nations to co-operate on intelligence matters. However, maximisation of power and security being the key objective of international relations, international intelligence liaison has always rested on a complex cost-benefit analysis.97 In the case of India, this aspect has been rather complicated; owing largely to India’s desire for strategic autonomy. This desire has also instilled in the Indian intelligence agencies a deep-seated concern for security, which has had implications on intelligence production. For a civilisa­ tional state like India that has been historically devoid of natural friends, this security concern has been absolutely valid.98 Thus, the strength of India’s international relations, although observed as a vital component in determining its intelligence-surprise dynamics, is placed as the last factor because the degree of reliance on foreign agencies is determined by the strength of the previous four factors. Most importantly, even here, the strength of the leadership becomes amply evident. India’s earliest experience with the complexities of foreign intelligence co-operation came during the early Cold War period. It has been observed how both the British and Americans refused to co-operate owing to the presence of Krishna Menon. The western agencies had developed a close relationship with DIB Mullik, but those interpersonal relationships had failed to convert into stra­ tegic partnerships given the policy choices made by their respective political lea­ ders. In the aftermath of the 1962 war, an era of unprecedented level of Indo-U.S. intelligence co-operation emerged. India relied heavily on Washington for TECHINT equipment and training while the U.S. intelligence vastly benefitted from using Indian territory to conduct operations against the Soviets and the Chinese.99 The one sidedness and the perils of a weak nation like India entering into an intelligence alliance with a strong nation with complex regional strategies soon dawned on the Indians. The U.S. had installed a TECHINT equipment on the Sino-Indian border to spy on the Chinese. The arrangement was that the equipment would be handled by the Americans while the data would be shared with the Indians. By 1966, as the Indo-U.S. relationship kept weakening, U.S.-Pakistani relationship was on an upward trajectory. During this time, India discovered to its utter shock that the CIA was using the same equipment to monitor Indian ORBAT and shared this information with Pakistan, which the latter then forwarded to China with whom it shared a close relationship. An irate Indira Gandhi

Indian Intelligence Culture 251 subsequently ordered the Director of SSB at Gwaldam to get rid of the equipment.100 The fact that the U.S. had set conditions on India to not use the equipment to spy on Pakistan while they themselves were involved in such chicanery further irked the Indians.101 Looking in retrospect, the decades of 1950s and 1960s left a profound impact on Indian international intelligence relationships. This was mainly because of a divergent trend in India’s overt policies and covert policies that would continue more or less until the end of the Cold War. For example, owing to India’s policy of appeasement towards China since the Nehruvian era, relations between India and Taiwan had remained strained until the end of the Cold War. India overtly accepted a ‘One China’ policy and in 1971 supported the PRC’s membership to the UN Security Council.102 This had negative ramifications on Indian-Taiwanese relations. However, in the secret world, the relationship between the Indian and Taiwanese agencies had been established in the immediate aftermath of the 1962 war owing to mutual security concerns.103 Similarly, Indo-Israeli relations had not been for­ mally established until 1992. Owing to domestic political compulsions and international considerations, mainly that of “offending the sentiments” of Arab countries, India had not formally recognised the state of Israel.104 However, the R&AW had maintained covert ties with Mossad using Geneva as rendezvous during the first decade, followed by the establishment of a Mossad station in New Delhi under a business cover.105 The argument that the divergences between India’s overt and covert policies have impacted intelligence activity becomes further evident when one revisits the 1960s, when India’s foreign policy had begun to drift towards the Soviet Union. Owing to national interests compulsions, New Delhi had the luxury to steer India’s foreign policy from a strict adherence to non-alignment towards developing stronger ties with the Soviet Union. Caught uncomfortably in this transition was the Indian intelligence that had spent decades co-operating with the Americans and British. The first glimpses of discomfort became visible when Gyalo Thondup, brother of the Dalai Lama, had realised that the Americans were only using “the Tibetans to sow discord between China and India”, and hence, wanted to reach out to the Russians for help.106 While the MEA as an executive wing of the government was supportive of the idea, Kao is reported to have said, “Mr. Thondup, for heaven’s sake, don’t collaborate with the Russians. Don’t listen to them”.107 For the early Indian intelligence officers who were trained anti-communists and shared close relationships with the western agencies, co-operating with the Russians was plausibly an awkward idea. It was only in the 1970s that the U.S.’s support of Pakistan against India drove the Indian intelligence bureaucracies away from the British and Amer­ ican intelligence agencies.108 Concomitantly, the intelligence ties that emerged with the Soviets and Israelis in the 1970s granted India significant autonomy that became the bedrock of its strategic intelligence partnerships.109 New Delhi’s policy oscillations and reliance on strategic autonomy had placed the intelligence leadership and their interpersonal relations as the

252 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises centrepiece of India’s intelligence liaisons, which resulted in mixed outcomes. The example of France is interesting in this regard. The entry of the USS Enterprise into the Bay of Bengal during the 1971 war triggered a concern for India’s security in the Indian Ocean Region. Close interpersonal relations between Kao and Alexandre de Marenches, the French intelligence chief, enabled the creation of a TECHINT programme to monitor U.S. activities in the region. On de Marenches’ suggestion, Iran’s SAVAK secret police and intelligence agency was brought on board to fund the project, while France provided the technology and the R&AW provided the manpower.110 Such intelligence co-operation emerged mainly due to the efforts of the intelligence leadership and also upheld the principles of autonomy sought by India. Subse­ quently, France became an important partner in building the R&AW. The agency’s earliest surveillance aircraft equipment and radio equipment were also sourced from France.111 Therefore, throughout the Cold War period, India’s intelligence relationships spread across the globe, but the results acquired were largely imbalanced. The excerpts from interviews with Indian intelligence officers who liaised with foreign intelligence agencies, testify that autonomy and security were central to India’s foreign intelligence co-operation. In the words of a former R&AW chief, who served in the IB prior to the creation of the R&AW and who interacted extensively with the British and Americans agencies, “the British and Americans gave you what they think you need, not what you want”.112 China was the only area where interests between India and the U.S. collided, and “even there they were extremely careful about what they shared”.113 During the 1980s co-operation with the west remerged owing to common concerns around terrorism. However, even here co-operation was limited. According to former spymaster A.S. Dulat: “the Brits were willing to help on Khalistan question; but they were never helpful with Kashmir because the US didn’t want to”.114 Thus, Anglo-American relationship with India on the intelligence front has been described by another R&AW chief as “high on rhetoric, but low on delivery”.115 Finally, emphasising the requirement of autonomy and highlighting the “security-concerned” approach of India’s international intelligence relations, Balachandran, a former senior R&AW officer who liaised with Israel and Afghanistan commented that: “Afghanistan, at one point, allowed India to carry out operations in Pakistan through their territory when they desperately needed us. Israel too had shown great enthusiasm before their embassy was established in 1992. So, the ques­ tion is who wants whom? We have to answer these questions properly first, and when all other options have dried up, only then intelligence liaison should be given priority”.116

Indian Intelligence Culture 253 Balachandran’s comments are matched by almost all the officers interviewed for this research. International intelligence liaison is considered by them as “a dicey thing” not as a matter of theoretical expression, but an empirical observation. Balachandran’s further addition that “through it [liaison] they will try to penetrate you” is an aspect that requires particular emphasis. Given the one-sidedness of the intelligence arrangements with rich western intelligence agencies, repeated defections of Indian intelligence personnel to Western capitals and constant attempts by western intelligence agencies to penetrate the Indian agencies have all caused the Indians to be characteristically sceptical about interacting with their western counterparts.117 By the time of Kargil, it is safe to say that India neither had friends like the Soviet Union or Israel of 1971, nor was its foreign and security policies aligned with the U.S. and the U.K. to procure early warning or support against Pakistan. It was only after India released the Musharraf tapes and attained psychological victory over Pakistan, did the U.S. intelligence community inform President Bill Clinton that Pakistan was “flirting with nuclear war”.118 Therefore, despite weak international intelligence liaison playing a significant role in leaving informational gaps unfulfilled in 1962 and 1999, the nature of India’s intelligence culture that desired high levels of autonomy implied that the impact of liaisons on intelligence-surprise dynamics depended heavily on the cumulative strengths of India’s intelli­ gence leadership, organisation, covert action and consumer literacy. Thus, in summation, the five determinants of India’s intelligence culture, finding their roots in India’s strategic culture, are closely interrelated and have played a vital role in determining the occurrence of strategic surprises, or lack thereof.

Notes 1 Stephen Cohen and Sunil Dasgupta, Arming without Aiming: India’s Military Mod­ ernisation, Washington DC: Brookings Institution, 2010, p. 13. 2 ‘Non-Alignment 2.0’, Centre for Policy Research, 2012, available at www.cprindia. org/research/reports/nonalignment-20-foreign-and-strategic-policy-india-twenty­ first-century, accessed on 10 October 2019. 3 David Scott, ‘India and Regional Integration’, in David Scott, Handbook of India’s International Relations, London: Routledge, 2011, pp. 120–121. 4 Deepa M. Ollapally and Rajesh Rajagopalan, ‘India: Foreign Policy Perspectives of an Ambiguous Power’, Henry R. Nau and Deepa M. Ollapally, Worldviews of Aspiring Powers: Domestic Foreign Policy Debates in China, India, Iran, Japan and Russia, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012, p. 73. 5 Subrata K. Mitra and Jivanta Schottli, ‘The New Dynamics of Indian Foreign Policy and its Ambiguities’, Irish Studies in International Affairs, Vol. 18. No. 1, 2007, p. 20. 6 K. Subrahmanyam, Shedding Shibboleths: India’s Evolving Strategic Outlook, New Delhi: Wordsmith, 2005, p. 13. 7 R. Swaminathan, ‘First, the Navy. Then, the RAW, Who Next, Prime Minister’, 1999, available at www.angelfire.com/in/jalnews/191991.txt, accessed on 10 October 2019.

254 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises 8 Rajendra M. Abhyankar, Indian Diplomacy: Beyond Strategic Autonomy, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018. 9 Dheeraj Paramesha Chaya, ‘Proximity or Sycophancy? The Relationship between Intelligence and Policy in the Nehruvian Era, 1947–64’, South Asia: Journal of South Asian Studies, 2022. 10 Richard W. Klise, ‘Memorandum for the Ambassador’, RG-59, Office of the South Asian Affairs: India Affairs, 1944–57, 18 April 1950, USNA. 11 Uri Bar-Joseph and Rose McDermott, Intelligence Success and Failure: The Human Factor, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017, p. 256. 12 Interview with former Special Service Bureau (SSB) officer – S1, 24 January 2019. 13 ‘Rationalisation of the Intelligence and Security Set-up’, Haksar Papers III Instal­ ment, Sub File 170, August 1971, NMML. 14 ‘Visit of Mr. A.K. Damodaran’, FCO 37/2815, 25 May 1982, UKNA. 15 Nair, Inside IB and RAW, 2016, pp. 169–170. 16 Interview with former Special Service Bureau (SSB) officer – S1, 24 January 2019. 17 Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R2, 22 September 2018. 18 Observation made by several intelligence personnel who served during that era. 19 Vappala Balachandran, ‘Struggling to Preserve the ‘Kaoboys’ Legacy’, The Tribune, 25 September 2018, available at www.tribuneindia.com/news/archive/comment/ struggling-to-preserve-kaoboys-legacy-658199, accessed on 10 October 2019. 20 ‘RAW: India’s most dreaded secret service’, India Today, 15 April 1977, available at www.indiatoday.in/magazine/indiascope/story/19770415-raw-indias-most-drea ded-secret-service-823652-2014-08-04, accessed on 10 October 2019. 21 ‘A Case for Intelligence Reforms in India’, IDSA Task Force Report, 2012, p. 43, available at https://idsa.in/system/files/book/book_IntellegenceReform.pdf, acces­ sed on 10 October 2019. 22 Ibid.; Vikram Sood, The Unending Game: A Former R&AW Chief’s Insights into Espionage, New Delhi: Penguin Random House, 2018, pp. 252–253. 23 Ibid. 24 The epithet was largely born out of bureaucratic jealousy which could not tolerate the emergence of an organisation capable of drawing salaries equivalent to that of other senior bureaucracies (like the Indian Foreign Service) while maintaining a direct recruitment channel. The term was subsequently popularised by sections in the media. However, none of the critics who employ this epithet actually make an effort to objectively assess the damage caused by this recruitment pattern nor do they offer an alternative method. What they fail to realise is that the question of trust was central to intelligence recruitment, and India was not alone in choosing this format of recruitment. In post-war Britain, the MI6 had also “recruited incestuously from within small circles in the tight-knit British elite”. That such a recruitment drive would give rise to characters such as Kim Philby was a consequence of lax security screening than the recruitment pattern itself. Gordon Corera, MI6: Life and Death in the British Secret Service, London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2012, pp. 71–73.; Similarly, even the CIA had, for a long time, recruited mostly from the White Anglo-Saxon Protestant, East Coast Americans as a “protective mechanism against betrayal”. Milo Jones and Philippe Silberzahn, Constructing Cassandra: Reframing Intelligence Failure at the CIA, 1947–2001, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2013, p. 38. 25 Interview with former Secretary (Research) A.S. Dulat, 18 October 2018. 26 Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R2, 22 September 2018. 27 Interview with former Special Service Bureau (SSB) officer – S1, 24 January 2019. It must be noted that even this officer underscored the importance of “trust” factor in recruiting intelligence officials which had given rise to the abovesaid recruitment pattern. 28 Interview with former R&AW Senior Field Officer – F1, 27 January 2019.

29 Interview with Defence Analyst Dr Bidanda Chengappa, 18 August 2018.

Indian Intelligence Culture 255 30 Interview with Intelligence Studies Scholar Dr Prem Mahadevan, 27 February 2019. 31 Interview with former R&AW Additional Secretary, Jayadeva Ranade, 24 Octo­ ber 2018.; Another area that has lost focus, owing to reliance on deputationists is the challenge of language training and proficiency. The R&AW officers believe that the MEA has a better foreign language expertise which the agency can tap from time to time. However, this arrangement might not have borne rich divi­ dends as the MEA has had similar personnel management and training issues, affecting its linguistic proficiency. Interview with former Deputy National Secur­ ity Advisor Latha Reddy, 3 August 2018. 32 Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R1, 19 August 2018. 33 The Pakistani Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) is more renowned as a covert action agency than as an intelligence agency. Over the years, it has maintained a web of covert operatives across India in pursuit of paramilitary activities. In addition, however, these operatives have also provided the ISI an intelligence advantage vis-à-vis India since their primary objectives have also included espionage on India’s military instal­ lations and capabilities. Jaideep Saikia, ‘The ISI Reaches East Anatomy of a Con­ spiracy’, Faultlines, August 2000, available at www.satp.org/satporgtp/publication/fa ultlines/volume6/Fault6-JSaikia-F.htm#_ftn10, accessed on 10 October 2019. 34 Todd Stiefler, ‘CIA’s Leadership and Major Covert Operations: Rogue Elephants or Risk-Averse Bureaucrats?’, Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 19, No. 4, 2004, p. 647. 35 Anne F. Thurston and Gyalo Thondup, The Noodle Maker of Kalimpong: The Untold Story of My Struggle for Tibet, Gurgaon: Random House Publishers, 2016, p. 223. 36 Kallol Bhattacherjee, ‘They Came, They Fought, They Stayed’, The Hindu, 17 March 2017, available at www.thehindu.com/news/national/other-states/they-cam e-they-fought-they-stayed/article17443356.ece, accessed on 12 October 2019. 37 Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R2, 22 September 2018. 38 Some of the agency’s well-known covert actions include the merger of Sikkim as the 22nd state of India, containment of a coup against Mauritian Prime Minister Anerood Jugnauth in 1983 under Operation Lal Dora, training of Tamil militants in Sri Lanka, and finally, covert operations in support of counterterrorism and counterinsurgency operations targeting training camps and cadres in Pakistan and Myanmar. Liberation movements in African countries like Namibia and South Africa have also received support from the R&AW. During the 1970s the agency had maintained a strong covert action infrastructure in Afghanistan too, which extended to maintaining links with the Baluchi society in Pakistan. D. Brewster, India’s Ocean: The Story of India’s Bid for Regional Leadership, London: Routledge, 2014, p. 73.; Vikram Sood, ‘The Indian Intelligence System’, in Harsh V. Pant, Handbook of Indian Defence Policy: Themes, Structures and Doctrines, London: Routledge, 2015, p. 345.; Avinash Paliwal, My Enemy’s Enemy: India in Afghanistan from Soviet Invasion to US Withdrawal, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017, p. 38. 39 Interview with former R&AW Senior Field Officer – F1, 27 January 2019.; The British MI6, on the other hand, has three categories of intelligence officers. Case officers to run agents; targeting officers and reports officers for analysis. The demarcation is because the British believe that the case officers are “experts on intelligence techniques (and enthusiasts for them)” while the others are experts on intelligence subjects. Michael Herman, Intelligence and Peace and War, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996, p. 43. 40 Despite drawing inspiration from the CIA, the Indianisation of operational pro­ cedures in the R&AW was probably due to the influence of the IB’s working culture. Kao, himself being a former IB officer, definitely knew how Mullik had developed through the EMS an “elite core, extremely efficient, confident, and excelling both in operations and analysis”. It is entirely possible that Kao aspired to develop a similar permanent cadre of intelligence personnel, albeit from the

256 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises

41 42 43

44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51

52 53 54 55 56 57 58

59 60 61 62 63

open market. A.K. Verma, ‘Intelligence Reform without a Cultural Shift in Approach will be a Non Starter’, South Asia Analysis Group, Paper No. 4353, 28 February 2011. Interview with former Secretary (Research) Vikram Sood, 22 October 2018. Interview with former R&AW Senior Field Officer – F1, 27 January 2019. ‘Nair Committee recommends setting up of third agency over and above RAW and IB’, India Today, 15 March 1984, available at www.indiatoday.in/magazine/ investigation/story/19840315-nair-committee-recommends-setting-up-of-third-a gency-over-and-above-raw-and-ib-802847-1984-03-15, accessed on 12 October 2019.; V.K. Singh, India’s External Intelligence: Secrets of Research and Analysis Wing (RAW), New Delhi: Manas Publications, 2015, p. 48. Interview with former Secretary (Research) Vikram Sood, 22 October 2018. A.S. Dulat, Kashmir: The Vajpayee Years, New Delhi: Harper Collins, 2015, p. 167. Interview with former Secretary (Research) N. Narasimhan, 8 November 2018. ‘What’s Wrong with our Intelligence?’, India Today, 1 July 2002, available at www.outlookindia.com/magazine/story/whats-wrong-with-our-intelligence/ 216296, accessed on 12 October 2019. ‘Special Frontier Force: School for Scandal’, India Today, 15 May 1982, available at www.indiatoday.in/magazine/indiascope/story/19820515-special-frontier-force-sch ool-for-scandal-771792-2013-10-16, accessed on 12 October 2019. Ibid. ‘SFF: Sexy Spooks’, India Today, 15 March 1981, available at www.indiatoday.in/maga zine/investigation/story/19810315-large-majority-of-special-frontier-force-officers-in volved-in-messy-sex-scandal-772750-2013-11-26, accessed on 12 October 2019. As part of the Gujral Doctrine that sought to position India as an altruistic big brother in the South Asian region, the R&AW’s Counterintelligence Team X and Counterintelligence Team J that focused on the Khalistani terrorists and Pakistan, respectively, were ordered to be shut. Although this impacted the agency’s covert action capabilities, senior R&AW officers of the era have hinted that public per­ ception of the damage far outweighs the actual ones. Interview with former Secretary (Research) Vikram Sood, 22 October 2018.; Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary Vappala Balachandran, 16 September 2018.; Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R3, 30 October 2018. Loch K Johnson, ‘Preface to a Theory of Strategic Intelligence’, International Journal of Intelligence and Counterintelligence, Vol. 16, No. 4, 2011, p. 640. See Chapter 3 in Part II of this volume. Philip H.J. Davies, MI6 and the Machinery of Spying: Structure and Process in Britain’s Secret Intelligence, London: Frank Cass Publishers, 2005, pp. 13–15. Interview with former Secretary (Research) N. Narasimhan, 8 November 2018. All the other intelligence officers interviewed for this research held this view. Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R2, 22 September 2018. Philip H.J. Davies, ‘Intelligence culture and intelligence failure in Britain and the United States’, Cambridge Review of International Affairs, Vol. 17, No. 3, 2004, p. 498.; Interview with former Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) Chairman – J1, 24 October 2018. Interview with former Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) Chairman – J1, 24 October 2018. IDSA Task Force Report, 2012, p. 85. Subrahmanyam, Shedding Shibboleths, p. 13. Asoka Raina, Inside RAW: The Story of India’s Secret Service, New Delhi: Vikas Publishing House Pvt Ltd, 1981, p. 30. Deep K. Datta-Ray, The Making of Indian Diplomacy: A Critique of Eurocentrism, London: Hurst Publishers, 2015, p. 194.

Indian Intelligence Culture 257 64 Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary Vappala Balachandran, 16 September 2018. 65 Besides security consciousness, enemy counterintelligence tactics like physical harassment, especially in countries like Pakistan, have also motivated diplomats to reveal the identity of intelligence officers. B. Raman, The Kaoboys of R&AW: Down Memory Lane, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 2013, p. 231. 66 ‘Visit of Mr. A.K. Damodaran’, FCO 37/2815, 25 May 1982, UKNA. 67 ‘Spies Left Out in the Cold’, Outlook, 7 February 1996, available at www.out lookindia.com/magazine/story/spies-left-out-in-the-cold/200758 accessed on 12 October 2019. 68 Raina, Inside RAW, 1981, p. 93. 69 Interview with former Deputy National Security Advisor Latha Reddy, 3 August 2018. 70 B. Raman, ‘Shri Nehchal Sandhu IPS to Join NSCS’, South Asia Analysis Group, 20 December 2012, available at www.southasiaanalysis.org/node/1096, accessed on 12 October 2019. 71 Interview with former Deputy National Security Advisor Latha Reddy, 3 August 2018. 72 IDSA Task Force Report, 2012, p. 81. 73 Interview with former Secretary (Research) Vikram Sood, 22 October 2018. 74 Almost all the intelligence officers interviewed for this research asserted that they had varied experiences with the diplomatic community depending on the individual. The generic consensus was that the diplomatic community as a consumer of intelligence was far more co-operative than the political and military consumers. 75 Wilkinson, Army and Nation, 2015, p. 106. 76 Interview with former Director General of Military Intelligence (DGMI), Lieu­ tenant General (Retd) R.K. Sawhney, 17 December 2018. 77 Interview with former Military Intelligence (MI) Officer – M1, 11 July 2018. 78 Shankar Badhuri and Asif Karim, The Sri Lankan Crisis, New Delhi: Lancer Interna­ tional, 1990, p. 45.; Interestingly, this observation is made during the tenure of General Krishnaswamy Sundarji who is renowned for his intellect as well as his ten­ dency to use intelligence failures as an excuse to cover up weak operational plans. Examples are the 1984 Operation Bluestar and 1987 Operation Pawan. 79 Bidanda Chengappa, ‘Indian Military Intelligence: A Case for Change’, Indian Defence Review, July 1992, p. 106.; This particular observation is not exclusive to the Indian military. To quote Colonel John Hughes-Wilson, “In many an army, navy or air force, the intelligence staff is often a Cinderella Organisation. The problem is that the path to military glory invariably lies in the field of ‘opera­ tions’”. John Hughes-Wilson, Military Intelligence Blunders, Massachusetts: Da Capo Press, 2000, p. 4. 80 Interview with former Principal Director Naval Intelligence – P1, 28 August 2018.; Interview with Air Marshal (Retd) S.Y. Savur, 14 July 2018. 81 Interview with Defence Analyst Dr Bidanda Chengappa, 18 August 2018. 82 Interview with former Principal Director Naval Intelligence – P1, 28 August 2018. 83 Interview with former Secretary (Research) Vikram Sood, 22 October 2018. 84 Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R3, 30 October 2018. 85 B. Raman, Intelligence: Past, Present and Future, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 2002, pp. 65–66. 86 V.A. Subrahmanyam, The Signals: A History of the Corps of Signals, New Delhi: Directorate General of Signals, Army HQ, 1986, p. 101. 87 Interview with former Deputy Directorate General (Signals) – D1, 22 July 2018.

258 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises 88 Joe Devanny, et al., ‘Why the British Government Must Invest in the Next Generation of Intelligence Analysts”, The RUSI Journal, Vol. 163, No. 6, 2018, pp.82–85. 89 K. Subrahmanyam, ‘Nehru’s Concept of Indian Defence’, Strategic Analysis, Vol. 32, No. 6, 2008, p. 1189. 90 Michael Handel, Intelligence and Military Operations, London: Routledge, 2013, p. 1. 91 Anit Mukherjee, ‘Educating the Professional Military: Civil–Military Relations and Professional Military Education in India’, Armed Forces & Society, Vol. 44, No. 3, 2017, p. 14. 92 P.K. Mallick, ‘Professional Military Education: Agenda for Reform’, Gurmeet Kanwal and Neha Kohli, Defence Reforms: A National Imperative, New Delhi: Pentagon Press, 2018, p. 205. 93 Mukherjee, ‘Educating the Professional Military’, 2017, p. 10. 94 Prakash Menon, ‘Military Education in India: Missing the Forests for the Trees’, Journal of Defence Studies, Vol. 9, No. 4, 2015, p. 49. 95 George O’Toole, ‘Kahn’s law: A universal principle of intelligence?', International Journal of Intelligence and Counterintelligence, Vol. 4, No. 1, 1990, pp. 39–41.; Kahn’s observation was made in his treatise on Hitler’s intelligence in World War II, where he observed that because of Britain’s sea power and defensive orientation, she needed intelligence whereas Germany, a continental power, in an offensive posture did not require intelligence. David Kahn, Hitler’s Spies: German Military Intelligence in World War II, Massachusetts: Da Capo Press, 2000, p. 513. 96 Richard K. Betts, ‘Analysis, War and Decision: Why Intelligence Failures are Inevitable’, World Politics, Vol. 31, No. 1, 1978, p. 65. 97 The best example in this regard is the Five Eyes Alliance that was formed to col­ lect and share SIGINT between the U.S., the U.K., Canada, Australia and New Zealand. The alliance emerged at the end of World War II between the U.K. and the U.S. to monitor Soviet communications. In 1955 the other three nations were added. Considering the growing capabilities, global outreach and mutual security concerns, propositions are now being made to include France, Germany and South Korea within the alliance, while calling into question the utility of New Zealand considering its strained intelligence sharing practices between 1986 and 2009. Corey Pfluke, ‘A History of the Five Eyes Alliance: Possibility for Reform and Additions’, Comparative Strategy, Vol. 38, No. 4, 2019, pp. 302–315. 98 Interview with Intelligence Studies Scholar Dr Prem Mahadevan, 27 February 2019. 99 The U.S. detachment that arrived in India to operate the U2 spy planes from Charbatia stayed until 1967. ‘U.S. Planes use Indian Air Base to Snoop on China’, The Hindu, 16 August 2013, available at www.thehindu.com/news/national/us-planes-used-indian-a irbase-to-snoop-on-china/article5028660.ece, accessed on 15 October 2019. 100 Interview with former Special Service Bureau (SSB) officer – S1, 24 January 2019. 101 Frankly speaking, even the Indians had violated the American terms and conditions and used an equipment provided by Washington to spy on Pakistan. However, interpersonal relations between R.N. Kao and the CIA officials had caused the latter to request Kao to exhibit caution lest the State Department got wind of it. Although these trickeries are common in the intelligence world, the weaker nations tend to suffer a lot more than the stronger ones, when terms and conditions guiding the partnerships are violated. Raman, The Kaoboys of R&AW, 2013, p. 294. 102 Joe Thomas Karackattu, ‘The Case for a Pragmatic India-Taiwan Relationship’, Car­ negie India, 22 April 2019, available at https://carnegieindia.org/2019/04/22/ca se-for-pragmatic-india-taiwan-partnership-pub-78855, accessed on 15 October 2019. 103 Thurston and Thondup, The Noodle Maker of Kalimpong, 2016, p. 225. 104 P.R. Kumaraswamy, ‘India’s Recognition of Israel, September 1950’, Middle Eastern Studies, Vol. 31, No. 1, 1995, p. 129. Notwithstanding India’s overtly

Indian Intelligence Culture 259 105 106 107 108

109

110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117

118

friendly policies towards the Islamic nations of the Middle East, intelligence assis­ tance from these nations has been negligible in comparison to Israel. Raman, The Kaoboys of R&AW, 2013, p. 28. Thurston and Thondup, The Noodle Maker of Kalimpong, 2016, p. 296. Ibid, p. 231. Among officers who served during these times and were privy to the double crossing of the U.S. to support Pakistan, the distrust of British and American intelligence agencies has been the deepest. Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R2, 22 September 2018. India received technical assistance from both the Soviets and the Israelis. How­ ever, the fact that India and Israel were not tied in an overt policy of friendship had meant that co-operation would hinge heavily on Israel’s security calculus. The co-operation offered during the 1971 war was in the hope that India would for­ mally recognise Israel. ‘Golda Meir to Shlomo Zabludowicz’, Haksar Papers III Instalment, Subject File 220, 23 August 1971, NMML. Until the change in the geopolitics of South Asia and the Middle East in 1979, Israel was highly interested in co-operating with India in thwarting Pakistan’s nuclear programme. However, the Soviet-Afghan War provided Pakistan with an opportunity to establish covert ties with the Israelis which dampened Tel Aviv’s enthusiasm towards co-operating with Indian intelligence. Once the Israeli embassy was established in New Delhi, intelligence co-operation reduced further. Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary Vappala Balachandran, 16 September 2018. It was only after the killing of an Israeli student in Kashmir by Pak-sponsored terrorists in the early 1990s that counterterrorism allowed a revival of Indo-Israeli intelligence co-operation. Raman, The Kaoboys of R&AW, 2013, p. 60. Interview with Senior Journalist and Security Analyst Praveen Swami, 29 October 2018. Interview with former Secretary (Research) N. Narasimhan, 8 November 2018. Interview with former R&AW Additional Secretary Jayadeva Ranade, 24 Octo­ ber 2018. Interview with former Secretary (Research) A.S. Dulat, 18 October 2018. Vikram Sood, The Unending Game: A Former R&AW Chief’s Insights into Espionage, New Delhi: Penguin Random House, 2018, p. 65. Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary Vappala Balachandran, 16 Sep­ tember 2018. ‘The List of Indian Officials and Spying Cases’, Deccan Herald, 28 April 2010, available at www.deccanherald.com/content/66461/list-indian-officials-spying-ca ses.html, accessed on 15 October 2019.; An interesting observation here is the virtual lack of concern about the Soviets. One reason could be that the Soviets, notwithstanding their penetration of Indian polity and society, were never seen to penetrate the Indian intelligence services. Bruce Riedel, ‘How the 1999 Kargil Conflict Redefined US-India Ties’, Brookings Institution, 24 July 2019, available at www.brookings.edu/blog/order-from-chaos/ 2019/07/24/how-the-1999-kargil-conflict-redefined-us-india-ties, accessed on 15 October 2019.

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260 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Balachandran, Vappala, ‘Struggling to Preserve the “Kaoboys” Legacy’, The Tribune, 25 September 2018, available at www.tribuneindia.com/news/archive/comment/strug gling-to-preserve-kaoboys-legacy-658199, accessed on 10 October 2019. Bar-Joseph, Uri and Rose McDermott, Intelligence Success and Failure: The Human Factor, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017. Betts, Richard K., ‘Analysis, War and Decision: Why Intelligence Failures are Inevitable’, World Politics, Vol. 31, No. 1, 1978. Bhattacherjee, Kallol, ‘They Came, They Fought, They Stayed’, The Hindu, 17March 2017, available at www.thehindu.com/news/national/other-states/they-came-they-fought-they­ stayed/article17443356.ece, accessed on 12 October 2019. Brewster, D., India’s Ocean: The Story of India’s Bid for Regional Leadership, London: Routledge, 2014. Centre for Policy Research, ‘Non-Alignment 2.0’, 2012, available at www.cprindia.org/ research/reports/nonalignment-20-foreign-and-strategic-policy-india-twenty­ first-century, accessed on 10 October 2019. Chengappa, Bidanda, ‘Indian Military Intelligence: A Case for Change’, Indian Defence Review, July 1992. Cohen, Stephen and Sunil Dasgupta, Arming without Aiming: India’s Military Modernisation, Washington DC: Brookings Institution, 2010, p. 13. Corera, Gordon, MI6: Life and Death in the British Secret Service, London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2012. Datta-Ray, Deep K., The Making of Indian Diplomacy: A Critique of Eurocentrism, London: Hurst Publishers, 2015. Davies, Philip H.J., ‘Intelligence culture and intelligence failure in Britain and the United States’, Cambridge Review of International Affairs, Vol. 17, No. 3, 2004. Davies, Philip H.J., MI6 and the Machinery of Spying: Structure and Process in Britain’s Secret Intelligence, London: Frank Cass Publishers, 2005. Deccan Herald, ‘The List of Indian Officials and Spying Cases’, 28 April 2010, available at www.deccanherald.com/content/66461/list-indian-officials-spying-cases.html, acces­ sed on 15 October 2019. Devanny, Joe et al., ‘Why the British Government Must Invest in the Next Generation of Intelligence Analysts’, The RUSI Journal, Vol. 163, No. 6, 2018. Dulat, A.S., Kashmir: The Vajpayee Years, New Delhi: Harper Collins, 2015. Haksar Papers, ‘Rationalisation of the Intelligence and Security Set-up’, III Instalment, Sub File 170, August 1971, NMML. Haksar Papers, ‘Golda Meir to Shlomo Zabludowicz’, III Instalment, Subject File 220, 23 August 1971, NMML. Handel, Michael, Intelligence and Military Operations, London: Routledge, 2013. Herman, Michael, Intelligence and Peace and War, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996. Hughes-Wilson, John, Military Intelligence Blunders, Massachusetts: Da Capo Press, 2000, p. 4. IDSA Task Force Report, ‘A Case for Intelligence Reforms in India’, 2012, p. 43, available at https://idsa.in/system/files/book/book_IntellegenceReform.pdf, accessed on 10 October 2019. India Today, ‘RAW: India’s most dreaded secret service’, 15 April 1977, available at www.indiatoday.in/magazine/indiascope/story/19770415-raw-indias-most-dreaded­ secret-service-823652-2014-08-04, accessed on 10 October 2019.

Indian Intelligence Culture 261 India Today, ‘SFF: Sexy Spooks’, 15 March 1981, available at www.indiatoday.in/magazine/ investigation/story/19810315-large-majority-of-special-frontier-force-officers-involved­ in-messy-sex-scandal-772750-2013-11-26, accessed on 12 October 2019. India Today, ‘Special Frontier Force: School for Scandal’, 15 May 1982, available at www. indiatoday.in/magazine/indiascope/story/19820515-special-frontier-force-school-for-sca ndal-771792-2013-10-16, accessed on 12 October 2019. India Today, ‘Nair Committee recommends setting up of third agency over and above RAW and IB’, 15 March 1984, available at www.indiatoday.in/magazine/investigation/story/ 19840315-nair-committee-recommends-setting-up-of-third-agency-over-and-above-raw­ and-ib-802847-1984-03-15, accessed on 12 October 2019. India Today, ‘What’s Wrong with our Intelligence?’, 1 July 2002, available at www.out lookindia.com/magazine/story/whats-wrong-with-our-intelligence/216296, accessed on 12 October 2019. Johnson, Loch K. ‘Preface to a Theory of Strategic Intelligence’, International Journal of Intelligence and Counterintelligence, Vol. 16, No. 4, 2011. Jones, Milo and Philippe Silberzahn, Constructing Cassandra: Reframing Intelligence Failure at the CIA, 1947–2001, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2013. Kahn, David, Hitler’s Spies: German Military Intelligence in World War II, Massachusetts: Da Capo Press, 2000. Klise, Richard W., ‘Memorandum for the Ambassador’, RG-59, Office of the South Asian Affairs: India Affairs, 1944–57, 18 April 1950, USNA. Kumaraswamy, P.R., ‘India’s Recognition of Israel, September 1950’, Middle Eastern Studies, Vol. 31, No. 1, 1995. Mallick, P.K., ‘Professional Military Education: Agenda for Reform’, Gurmeet Kanwal and Neha Kohli, Defence Reforms: A National Imperative, New Delhi: Pentagon Press, 2018. Menon, Prakash, ‘Military Education in India: Missing the Forests for the Trees’, Journal of Defence Studies, Vol. 9, No. 4, 2015. Mitra, Subrata K. and Jivanta Schottli, ‘The New Dynamics of Indian Foreign Policy and its Ambiguities’, Irish Studies in International Affairs, Vol. 18. No. 1, 2007. Mukherjee, Anit, ‘Educating the Professional Military: Civil–Military Relations and Professional Military Education in India’, Armed Forces & Society, Vol. 44, No. 3, 2017. Ollapally, Deepa M. and Rajesh Rajagopalan, ‘India: Foreign Policy Perspectives of an Ambiguous Power’, in Henry R. Nau and Deepa M. Ollapally, Worldviews of Aspiring Powers: Domestic Foreign Policy Debates in China, India, Iran, Japan and Russia, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012. O’Toole, George, ‘Kahn’s law: A universal principle of intelligence?', International Journal of Intelligence and Counterintelligence, Vol. 4, No. 1, 1990. Outlook, ‘Spies Left Out in the Cold’, 7 February 1996, available at www.outlookindia. com/magazine/story/spies-left-out-in-the-cold/200758 accessed on 12 October 2019. Paliwal, Avinash, My Enemy’s Enemy: India in Afghanistan from Soviet Invasion to US Withdrawal, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017. Pfluke, Corey, ‘A History of the Five Eyes Alliance: Possibility for Reform and Additions’, Comparative Strategy, Vol. 38, No. 4, 2019. Raina, Asoka, Inside RAW: The Story of India’s Secret Service, New Delhi: Vikas Publishing House Pvt Ltd, 1981. Raman, B., Intelligence: Past, Present and Future, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 2002.

262 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises Raman, B., ‘Shri Nehchal Sandhu IPS to Join NSCS’, South Asia Analysis Group, 20 December 2012, available at www.southasiaanalysis.org/node/1096, accessed on 12 October 2019. Raman, B., The Kaoboys of R&AW: Down Memory Lane, New Delhi: Lancer Publishers, 2013. Riedel, Bruce, ‘How the 1999 Kargil Conflict Redefined US-India Ties’, Brookings Institution, 24 July 2019, available at www.brookings.edu/blog/order-from-chaos/ 2019/07/24/how-the-1999-kargil-conflict-redefined-us-india-ties/, accessed on 15 October 2019. Saikia, Jaideep, ‘The ISI Reaches East Anatomy of a Conspiracy’, Faultlines, August 2000, available at www.satp.org/satporgtp/publication/faultlines/volume6/Fault6-JSa ikia-F.htm#_ftn10, accessed on 10 October 2019. Scott, David, ‘India and Regional Integration’, in David Scott, Handbook of India’s International Relations, London: Routledge, 2011. Singh, V.K., India’s External Intelligence: Secrets of Research and Analysis Wing (RAW), New Delhi: Manas Publications, 2015. Sood, Vikram, ‘The Indian Intelligence System’, in Harsh V. Pant, Handbook of Indian Defence Policy: Themes, Structures and Doctrines, London: Routledge, 2015. Sood, Vikram, The Unending Game: A Former R&AW Chief’s Insights into Espionage, New Delhi: Penguin Random House, 2018. Stiefler, Todd, ‘CIA’s Leadership and Major Covert Operations: Rogue Elephants or Risk-Averse Bureaucrats?’, Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 19, No. 4, 2004. Subrahmanyam, K., ‘Nehru’s Concept of Indian Defence’, Strategic Analysis, Vol. 32, No. 6, 2008. Subrahmanyam, K., Shedding Shibboleths: India’s Evolving Strategic Outlook, New Delhi: Wordsmith, 2005. Subrahmanyam, V.A., The Signals: A History of the Corps of Signals, New Delhi: Directorate General of Signals, Army HQ, 1986. Swaminathan, R., ‘First, the Navy. Then, the RAW, Who Next, Prime Minister’, 1999, available at www.angelfire.com/in/jalnews/191991.txt, accessed on 10 October 2019. The Hindu, ‘U.S. Planes use Indian Air Base to Snoop on China’, 16 August 2013, available at www.thehindu.com/news/national/us-planes-used-indian-airbase-to-snoop­ on-china/article5028660.ece, accessed on 15 October 2019. Thomas Karackattu, Joe, ‘The Case for a Pragmatic India-Taiwan Relationship’, Carnegie India, 22 April 2019, available at https://carnegieindia.org/2019/04/22/case-for-pragma tic-india-taiwan-partnership-pub-78855, accessed on 15 October 2019. Thurston, Anne F. and Gyalo Thondup, The Noodle Maker of Kalimpong: The Untold Story of My Struggle for Tibet, Gurgaon: Random House Publishers, 2016. Verma, A.K., ‘Intelligence Reform without a Cultural Shift in Approach will be a Non Starter’, South Asia Analysis Group, Paper No. 4353, 28 February 2011. ‘Visit of Mr. A.K. Damodaran’, FCO 37/2815, 25May 1982, UKNA.

9

Culture of Ad hocism Moving Beyond the Orthodox-Revisionist Dichotomy

Introduction To recap from Part I, the literature on intelligence-surprise dynamics has been divided into orthodox and revisionist schools of thought. Orthodox scholars are inherently pessimistic about fixing intelligence failures and averting strategic sur­ prises; thereby, concluding that “failures and surprises are inevitable”. Revisionist scholars, on the other hand, are optimists who believe that bureaucratic and organisational changes can help avert surprises. While the orthodox school accused the revisionist school of unwarranted optimism, the latter shot back that: “undue pessimism is no less dangerous as a policy guide than unwarranted optimism. While the latter inspires over-confidence and complacency, the former breeds either fatalism and apathy or worst-case analysis and overreaction—neither of which is conducive to national and international security”.1 Nevertheless, the orthodox school persisted with the pessimistic attitude since it believed that surprise was a complex phenomenon; and merely relying on organisational reforms can divert attention from other aspects of the pro­ blem.2 The issue with the revisionists was that they were heavily focused on intelligence warnings alone and discarded systemic and individual factors that forbade accurate analysis and receptivity of intelligence. In other words, orthodox scholars focused on the enemy’s intentions while revisionists argued that consumer’s receptivity of warning intelligence was directly linked to the production of reliable/tactical intelligence on the enemy’s capabilities.3 Similarly, with regards to analysis, the orthodox school posited that metho­ dological professionalism is a fantasy since “error is inherent in the nature of the job” whereas revisionists tend to levy large premiums on the power of methodological professionalism and analytical tools.4 So, where does India fall between the orthodox-revisionist schools of thought? Having observed the three cases, one of which is an intelligence success, it is the argument of this book that both the schools are equally correct, but wholly insufficient. Since this book has studied intelligence culture as the DOI: 10.4324/9781003296195-14

264 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises foundational element in India’s intelligence-surprise dynamics, it has proved that scholars studying intelligence failures and strategic surprises elsewhere will have to go down to the root causes that lie in cultural levels of analysis. Also, scholars studying Indian cases will have to exercise caution in directly applying the orthodox-revisionist models of analysis. Expansion on this is as follows. If one were to observe just the 1971 case, it would be easy to conclude that the revisionist arguments hold greater credibility because a series of intelligence reforms had been undertaken in the aftermath of the 1962 failure, which eventually led to the successful prediction of Pakistan’s intentions and cap­ abilities in 1971. Even when considering the 1962 and 1999 cases, the principal argument of the revisionists, that attention to tactical indicators and analytical professionalism improves the chances of accurate prediction, might seem valid. In other words, if Indian intelligence analysts had subjected the available indi­ cators in 1962 and 1999 to social science methods of analysis like devil’s advocacy or analysis of competing hypothesis, there could have been a greater chance of predicting the actions of the enemy. In fact, Indian observers, who would broadly fall under the revisionist school, have argued that a lack of social science methods of analysis is a major impediment in Indian intelligence. For instance, Praveen Swami, a senior journalist and security analyst opined that: “[useful data on the intentions of the enemy is not gathered because] somebody with a social science background would want to know these things. For police officers these are not germane questions. Therefore, assessments are not made with a scientific basis, since desk heads are unable to task adequately”.5 Generally speaking, this observation about the Indian intelligence is accurate. However, emphasising this aspect denies sufficient appreciation of the strength of the analytical behaviour of the Indian intelligence agencies. From the time of independence until the end of the 20th century, Indian intelligence agencies had been overwhelmingly reliant on empirical knowledge rather than social sci­ ence methods. This is both by design and by default. By design, the agencies were shaped to study the enemy for what it was rather than subjecting Incoming information to varied social science methods of analysis.6 For instance, the Research and Analysis Wing (R&AW) was the only organisation to doubt the legitimacy of Pakistan’s claim to peace in the aftermath of the nuclear tests. This scepticism was not born out of a consultation of social sci­ ence theories or models of analysis to assess Pakistan’s behaviour; instead, the agency relied on empirical details (as traced in the 1999 case chapter) to understand the civil-military divide and analyse its implications on bilateral relations. A senior R&AW officer proclaimed that, “no R&AW officer would ever believe that Pakistan has ever reformed because we have been seeing them from close quarters”.7 Thus, it is arguable that empirical knowledge had placed them in a better position to understand their enemy than social science methods would allow.

Culture of Ad hocism 265 If this was by design, by default, the Indian intelligence agencies had to rely on empirics because the system as it functioned could never have accepted assess­ ments if they were born out of social science methods. In fact, the consumers of Indian intelligence generally wished for facts that spoke for themselves rather than intelligence estimates. Looking back at the 1962 case, the Intelligence Bureau’s (IB) prediction, as early as 1950, that Mao’s China would pose a threat to India was born out of a theoretical assessment of the expansionist behaviour of a communist nation. Yet, it could not convince the political leadership about its assessment because the consumers were seeking unambiguous and irrefutable evidence of it. On 8 June 1962, combined with its inherent suspicion of Com­ munist China and a reliable piece of intelligence from a source in Tibet, the IB predicted an offensive. Both this report and the subsequent reports on the cap­ abilities build up across the Sino-Indian border were discarded by the Director of Military Intelligence at the Joint Intelligence Committee since they were not evidentially strong to reshape the consumer’s analysis.8 Similarly, the R&AW’s October 1998 assessment that predicted a limited offensive was also resisted by its military consumers. The reason for such lack of consumer receptivity in both cases was precisely the lack of univocal evidence of the coming offensives. Thus, in theory, even though social science methods could have improved tasking and analytical processes, in practice, it was unli­ kely to have generated receptivity among evidence seeking consumers. In such a scenario, analytical rigour was limited to establishing the “reliability” of the source and “credibility” of information.9 A ranking system had been used to grade the quality of the source and the information procured that in turn informed analysis. For instance, a good piece of input from a highly reliable source would be graded A1 – ‘A’ being the grade of the source and ‘1’ being the grade of the input – while D4 would represent the opposite end of the spectrum. This brings us to the second aspect of the revisionist argument that tactical/ actionable intelligence was required to improve consumer receptivity. To understand the futility of this factor in the Indian context, the emphasis should not be on the kind of intelligence that was required to increase consumer receptivity. Rather, it ought to be on the strength of the consumer’s mindset that was resistant to warning indicators. Doing so highlights that, in this regard, orthodox scholars are better placed to explain the failures of 1962 and 1999 than the revisionists. According to Richard Betts: “because knowledge is a combination of facts and beliefs intermingled in the minds of decisionmakers and implementers, ideology and intelligence often prove hard to disentangle”.10 Understanding the misperceptions of the consumers of intelligence would determine the quality of tactical indicators required to serve as warnings, which in turn would reveal if such indicators are acquirable or not. In both the 1962 and 1999 cases, it has already been observed how strong minded the Indian

266 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises consumers were. Elimination of these mental barriers required tactical intelligence of absolutely high quality, which could not have been acquired by the central intelligence agencies. In both the cases, the tactical indicators pointing towards the coming apocalypse were available with the Indian Army – the warnings provided by the Brigade level officers in both cases – which the high command had disregarded. Thus, where the failure to collect tactical intelligence to dispel consumer’s mindset is in question, it is a failure of policy not intelligence. The argument that methodological professionalism and tactical indicators are not absolute necessities to enable military preparedness is also borne out by the 1971 case. The agency was manned by officers like R.N. Kao, San­ karan Nair and P.N. Banerjee who had a thorough empirical knowledge of East Pakistani society and polity that had enabled them to predict its secession in 1969 itself. In addition, Indian military preparedness to meet the Pakistani military threat hinged on strategic analysis and not merely tactical inputs. In fact, many of the complaints raised by the army with regard to inadequate tactical and operational intelligence were beyond the purview of the central intelligence agencies.11 Thus, even where a successful aversion of surprise and an intelligence-led conduct of warfare was concerned, methodological professional­ ism as a factor had little influence while emphasis on tactical intelligence unne­ cessarily shifted the blame on the intelligence agencies, which is both unfair and ineradicable. Rather than tactical intelligence, the focus ought to be on strategic human intelligence (HUMINT). Studies elsewhere have also emphasised this aspect since the best warnings have emerged from human sources. The numerous warnings received by Stalin until the eve of Operation Barbarossa in 1941 is one such example. Other examples include the case of Ashraf Marwan, the son-in-law of Gamal Abdel Nasser, playing an important role in informing the Israelis prior to the 1973 Yom Kippur War;12 and the U.S.’s successful management of the Cuban missile crisis owing to the presence of Colonel Oleg Penkovsky, a Central Intelligence Agency/MI6 informant in Kremlin.13 Theoretically speaking, the development of strategic informants is extremely difficult and requires time, patience, expertise and secrecy.14 Even the 1971 case observed in this book emphasises the dedication required to develop strategic sources and also validates the argument that strategic HUMINT, more than tactical intelligence has greater impact on averting surprises. However, the lack of it in 1962 and 1999 had kept New Delhi completely unaware of the enemy’s intentions. Therefore, so far as India is concerned, both the revisionists and orthodox schools have some arguments that are applicable. At face value, the 1971 case reiterates that reforms work, and thus, the revisionist scholars are correct. However, their obsession with accurate/tactical intelligence and their tendency to regard intelligence useless if the policymakers fail to make use of it, is highly problematic.15 Such arguments tend to project the intelligence product as a market commodity that needs to be packaged and advertised well for the

Culture of Ad hocism 267 consumers. While there can certainly be suggestions to improve the intelligence product to enhance consumer comprehension, perceiving the consumers as “customers” to whom the product has to be marketed carries potential dangers.16 Even in their failures, the Indian intelligence agencies have hitherto been untarnished by allegations of politicisation of intelligence. Suggestions such as marketing the intelligence product has the potential to spoil objectivity, although some expression of policy preferences by the consumers could lead to better tasking procedures. Hence, both the revisionists and orthodox scholars have some relevance in shedding light on India’s intelligence-surprise dynamics. However, there are significant insufficiencies in their explanatory capabilities that can be fixed only by looking at intelligence culture as an explanatory variable. Although the revisionists have identified the lack of methodological pro­ fessionalism and tactical indicators as causes for surprise, and the orthodox scholars have regarded the inherent psychological and systemic barriers as nat­ ural obstacles in averting surprises, neither have been able to explain the reason for the existence of such pathologies. There is a tendency to assume that the intelligence cycle operates uniformly across the world, with the inference that these pathologies are present world over for similar reasons. Unfortunately, this is not the case, and the Indian example is telling in this regard. Hitherto scho­ lars of intelligence have assumed that, across the world, a clear structure exists where the intelligence services are involved in intelligence collection and ana­ lysis and a communication link is maintained with the consumers through dis­ semination of the intelligence product and reception of feedback (see Figure 9.1). However, the Indian intelligence setup does not resemble this structure. In reality, there is a significant distance between the intelligence process and the decisionmaking body. The latter is largely a functionary of ad hocism and not entirely based on strategic intelligence. As established in this book, intelligence-policy relationship in India is not subject to an established national security structure but to the proximity of the intelligence chief to the political and military leadership. In theory, although a structure exists, which closely resembles the American and British model of national security policymaking, practically, ad hocism has been the order of the

Intelligence Collection and Analysis

D&F

Policymaking and Military Readiness

Figure 9.1 Intelligence-Policy structure in Western democracies Source: Author

268 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises day whenever India has encountered a strategic surprise. Hence, the intelli­ gence-policy divide in India is too prominent to allow direct application of the orthodox-revisionist model of analysis (see Figure 9.2). The biggest challenge in India has been to eliminate this ‘ad hocism’ in policymaking and enable greater embrace of strategic intelligence as the legit­ imate basis for decision-making. While the 1962 and 1999 cases were policies of ad hocism, in 1971 ad hocism was replaced by systematism, which led to differences in outcome. Against this backdrop, revisionist scholars might suggest legislations mandating an intelligence basis for policymaking and provision of legal charters to the intelligence services – an aspect what the orthodox scholars term as “wishful formalism”.17 The desire for formal legal and legislative backing has been high, even among Indian intelligence observers.18 Never­ theless, seldom have such arguments been geared towards improving intelli­ gence performances. Much of the demands for legislative and legal frameworks have been motivated by a desire to abide by democratic norms and limit the misuse of intelligence by politicians. There is neither reason to believe that this would have improved the intelligence product, nor that consumer receptivity would have been enhanced. Yet, the 1971 case highlights that accountability of a certain kind can indeed improve intelligence performances. As Jennifer Sims has argued: “the best indicators of good anticipatory intelligence are independence for the service, and ironically, effective oversight. The latter should build trust and, thus, sufficient independence for the service to explore threats and opportunities”.19 In the success of the 1971 case, it has been observed that there was neither legal nor legislative basis to ensure effectiveness. Rather it was periodic reviews by the Prime Minister’s Principal Secretary and Cabinet Secretary. Through the interference of these knowledgeable individuals budgetary and bureaucratic constraints were overcome, which ultimately improved effectiveness. This implies that oversight as an end in itself is of limited value in improving

Foreign & Security Policy

Figure 9.2 Intelligence-Policy divide in India Source: Author

Strategic Intelligence

Culture of Ad hocism 269 intelligence performances if it is not guided by a strategic framework and led by knowledgeable individuals. Closely connected to the above point is that the revisionists’ suggestion for legislations and legal foundations originates from an assumption that policymakers have lost confidence in the intelligence agencies on the basis of past experiences. The possibility of an innate reticence towards intelligence, which cannot be fixed by legislations, is squarely disregarded. The former, i.e. ignorance of intelligence owing to past performances and loss of confidence is evident in western democracies and Israel, while the latter is characteristic of India.20 The successful episode of intelligence driven military policy and planning in 1971 was due lar­ gely to a cultural change in India that restructured the policymaking process whose primary casualty was the ‘ad hocism’. Where the enthusiasm to disregard strategic intelligence and undertake ad hoc decisions had been high, there is no reason to believe that legislations and legal charters could have altered political and military analyses. Supporting this argument, is another study on Indian intelligence in counterterrorism that argued that high rates of intelligence per­ formances leading to successful operational outcomes occurred when the political leadership was invested in the entire process rather than taking ad hoc decisions, mostly based on electoral calculus.21 Therefore, like Philip Davies had exposed that different models of national intelligence cultures exist in the U.S. and U.K., despite their shared common­ alities, this book posits that, regardless of the colonial ancestry of Indian intel­ ligence agencies and the shared democratic ideals, India’s overall approach to national security has not allowed its agencies to operate like their western counterparts.22 This is a factor that scholars studying intelligence performances and strategic surprises in different countries will need to bear in mind. Moving beyond observations at organisational and structural levels, scholars are likely to be better served by transcending to cultural levels to further understand why the given organisational and structural fallacies exist. In saying this, this book borrows the following passage from a recent study on intelligence failures that points to the problem of cultures by highlighting the individual factor: ““cultural disease” that is highly relevant to the topic of our study is the insufficient research both the US intelligence community and academia undertake regarding intelligence [failures]…outside the Anglo-Saxon world… Given that the theory of surprise attack and warning failures might have universal application… other similar cases need to be incorporated into the main corpus of intelligence studies in order to specify the conditions under which individual personality factors come to the fore in intelligence failures [emphasis added]”.23 India is one such nation where its intelligence culture posits that individual per­ sonality factors come to the fore in determining both intelligence performances and policy outcomes. The single biggest influential factor in India’s intelligence culture identified in this book is the proximity of the intelligence managers to

270 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises the consumers of intelligence, especially given that the former were the actual drivers of the intelligence machinery. Professionalism on part of the intelligence managers and their positive influence on policymakers were essential conditions to improve intelligence performances and control the outcomes. However, to borrow the words of K. Subrahmanyam: “in the Sultanate that is India, the tendency with some exceptions is to man most of the top posts with sycophants, careerists and yes-man”.24 The 1971 war was the only case where strong individuals with high profes­ sional integrity had challenged this rule. This is not to suggest that intelligence managers prior to and after 1971 were incompetent. The point is that the Indian system demanded a high degree of political subservience, barring which the managers’ careers as well as their organisational survival were at risk. For example, the resignation of Sankaran Nair in protest against humiliation by the political leadership in 1977 validates the need for political subservience whilst Mullik’s closeness to Nehru in order to protect the IB is testimony to organi­ sational survival and growth hinging on greater proximity. Hence, the ‘lack of professional integrity’ is only to the extent that the intelligence managers have not aggressively pushed forward their agency’s assessments and have instead chosen to maintain a ‘speak only when asked to’ attitude. In the event, what ails Indian intelligence is expressed in the words of a young state police intel­ ligence officer – “Indian intelligence is documentation oriented, not result oriented”.25 Given the risks, it might seem unfair to expect the intelligence managers to eschew this attitude. Nonetheless, so far as the study of strategic surprises in India is concerned, this was one of the main causal factors, both in 1962 and 1999. To sum up, “so long as we had a good chief and a government that listened, it was all fine”.26 These were the words of former spymaster Vikram Sood, which despite its simplicity, summarises the two main factors on which India’s intelli­ gence-surprise dynamics have depended – intelligence leadership and consumer literacy. Thus, in summation, the central thesis of this book, i.e. how a nation ‘thinks about’ and ‘does’ intelligence is fundamental to understanding its intelli­ gence-surprise dynamics, which mere organisational level studies cannot reveal.

Notes 1 Ariel Levite, ‘Intelligence and Strategic Surprises Revisited: A Response to Richard K. Betts’s “Surprise, Scholasticism and Strategy”’, International Security Studies Quar­ terly, Vol. 33, No. 3, 1989, p. 349. 2 Richard K. Betts, Surprise Attack, Washington DC: Brookings Institution, 1982, p. 17. 3 Abraham Ben-Zvi, ‘The Dynamics of Surprise: The Defender’s Perspective’, Intelli­ gence and National Security, Vol. 12, No. 4, 1997, p. 140. 4 Or Honig, ‘Surprise Attacks—Are They Inevitable? Moving Beyond the OrthodoxRevisionist Dichotomy’, Security Studies, Vol. 17, No. 1, 2008, p. 87.

Culture of Ad hocism 271 5 Interview with Senior Journalist and Security Analyst Praveen Swami, 29 October 2018. 6 This is not to suggest that there is no room for diverse, independent and creative thinking in the agencies. For instance, within the R&AW it has been commonplace for analysts to arrive at diverse assessments on a particular issue. When this happens, the chief of the agency, during the Friday meetings, takes charge of reviewing the factual details and analytical methodology to finalise the assessment. Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary – R2, 22 September 2018. 7 Ibid. This is not just the claim of this officer alone. Even former R&AW chief Vikram Sood pointed that the R&AW’s opinion prior to the nuclear tests was that “Pakistan is not going to change. If you make a bomb, they will make it too. It will not bring you eternal peace”. Interview with former Secretary (Research) Vikram Sood, 22 October 2018. Later assessments presented in the Kargil Review Com­ mittee Report also hint at the agency’s scepticism about the peace initiative. 8 A.K. Dave, The Real Story of China’s War on India, 1962, New Delhi: United Services Institute of India, 2006, p. 14. 9 Interview with former Military Intelligence (MI) Officer – M1, 11 July 2018. 10 Richard K. Betts, Enemies of Intelligence: Knowledge and Power in American National Security, New York: Columbia University Press, 2007, p. 15. 11 The fact that this aspect was not realised throughout the 20th century reflects the lack of institutional memory in India’s intelligence and national security organisa­ tions. The pedagogical structure in the Indian intelligence academies is not shaped to undertake “lessons learned exercises”, which is unsurprising considering the agency’s lack of a permanent cadre. Deputationists who come for a brief period have no compulsions to acquaint themselves with organisational history or past operational knowledge. Interview with Senior Journalist and Security Analyst Praveen Swami, 29 October 2018. Interview with former R&AW Additional Secretary Jayadeva Ranade, 24 October 2018. 12 Uri Bar-Joseph and Rose McDermott, Intelligence Success and Failure: The Human Factor, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017, p. 242. 13 ‘The Capture and Execution of Colonel Penkovsky, 1963’, Central Intelligence Agency, 30 April 2013, available at www.cia.gov/news-information/featured­ story-archive/2010-featured-story-archive/colonel-penkovsky.html, accessed on 27 November 2019. 14 Cullen G. Nutt, ‘The CIA’s mole in the Viet Cong: Learning from a Rare Success’, Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 34, No. 7, 2019, pp. 11–12. 15 Eric Dahl, Intelligence and Surprise Attack: Failure and Success from Pearl Harbor to 9/11 and Beyond, Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 2013, p. 20. 16 Michael Herman, Intelligence Power in Peace and War, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996, p. 45. 17 Richard K. Betts, ‘Analysis, War and Decision: Why Intelligence Failures are Inevitable’, World Politics, Vol. 31, No. 1, 1978, p. 68. 18 IDSA Task Force report, 2012, p. 33. 19 Jennifer Sims, ’The Theory and Philosophy of Intelligence’, in Robert Dover, Michael S. Goodman and Claudia Hillebrand, Routledge Companion to Intelligence Studies, 2014, p. 47. 20 Shay Hershkovitz and David Siman-Tov, ‘Collaboration Between Intelligence and Decisionmakers: The Israeli Perspective’, International Journal of Intelligence and Counter­ intelligence, Vol. 31, No. 3, 2018, p. 588. Betts, ‘Analysis, War and Decision’, p. 68. 21 Prem Mahadevan, The Politics of Counterterrorism in India, London: I.B. Tauris, 2012, pp. 75, 105. 22 Philip H.J. Davies, ‘Intelligence culture and intelligence failure in Britain and the United States’, Cambridge Review of International Affairs, Vol. 17, No. 3, 2004, p. 495.

272 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises 23 Bar-Joseph and McDermott, Intelligence Success and Failure, 2017, p. 243. Although their thesis misses embracing strategic culture as a component in causing strategic surprises, it is rich in its assessment of the impact of psychological factors of impor­ tant leaders during instances of surprises. A similar study on India might unravel valuable insights into the understanding of intelligence failures and strategic surprises. 24 K. Subrahmanyam, Shedding Shibboleths: India’s Evolving Strategic Outlook, New Delhi: Wordsmith, 2005, p. 28. 25 Interview with Karnataka State Police Intelligence Officer, K1, 12 January 2019. 26 Interview with former Secretary (Research) Vikram Sood, 22 October 2018.

References Bar-Joseph, Uri and Rose McDermott, Intelligence Success and Failure: The Human Factor, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017. Ben-Zvi, Abraham, ‘The Dynamics of Surprise: The Defender’s Perspective’, Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 12, No. 4, 1997. Betts, Richard K., ‘Analysis, War and Decision: Why Intelligence Failures are Inevitable’, World Politics, Vol. 31, No. 1, 1978. Betts, Richard K., Surprise Attack, Washington DC: Brookings Institution, 1982. Betts, Richard K., Enemies of Intelligence: Knowledge and Power in American National Security, New York: Columbia University Press, 2007. Central Intelligence Agency, ‘The Capture and Execution of Colonel Penkovsky, 1963’, 30 April 2013, available at www.cia.gov/news-information/featured-story-a rchive/2010-featured-story-archive/colonel-penkovsky.html, accessed on 27 November 2019. Dahl, Eric, Intelligence and Surprise Attack: Failure and Success from Pearl Harbor to 9/11 and Beyond, Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 2013. Dave, A.K., The Real Story of China’s War on India, 1962, New Delhi: United Services Institute of India, 2006. Davies, Philip H.J., ‘Intelligence culture and intelligence failure in Britain and the United States’, Cambridge Review of International Affairs, Vol. 17, No. 3, 2004. Herman, Michael, Intelligence Power in Peace and War, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996. Hershkovitz, Shay and David Siman-Tov, ‘Collaboration Between Intelligence and Decisionmakers: The Israeli Perspective’, International Journal of Intelligence and Counterintelligence, Vol. 31, No. 3, 2018. Honig, Or, ‘Surprise Attacks—Are They Inevitable? Moving Beyond the OrthodoxRevisionist Dichotomy’, Security Studies, Vol. 17, No. 1, 2008. Levite, Ariel, ‘Intelligence and Strategic Surprises Revisited: A Response to Richard K. Betts’s “Surprise, Scholasticism and Strategy”’, International Security Studies Quarterly, Vol. 33, No. 3, 1989. Mahadevan, Prem, The Politics of Counterterrorism in India, London: I.B. Tauris, 2012. Nutt, Cullen G., ‘The CIA’s mole in the Viet Cong: Learning from a Rare Success’, Intelligence and National Security, Vol. 34, No. 7, 2019. Sims, Jennifer, ‘The Theory and Philosophy of Intelligence’, in Robert Dover, Michael S. Goodman and Claudia Hillebrand, Routledge Companion to Intelligence Studies, Abingdon: Routledge, 2014. Subrahmanyam, K., Shedding Shibboleths: India’s Evolving Strategic Outlook, New Delhi: Wordsmith, 2005.

Epilogue Bring Back the Kautilyan State

This book has assessed India’s intelligence culture of both ancient and modern times. It has exposed that there had been a significant transformation from the Kautilyan period to the 20th century. The proactive Kautilyan state was sacrificed to the colonial powers who, on the one hand, were oppressive of the colonial subjects but, on the other hand, were guided by certain ideas that forbade the evolution of a coherent intelligence set-up. To make matters worse, the fact that foreign policy was formulated in distant London further obstructed the evolution of a foreign intelligence organisation in India. Therefore, the modern Indian state was born with no foreign intelligence experience worth its name. This could have been a blessing in disguise if only India’s political leaders were motivated by the Kautilyan principles of statecraft and enabled the evolution of native security institutions. Alas, that did not happen. But why this insistence on Kautilya and the Arthashastra? To quote scholar Medha Bisht: “while an ancient classic should not be considered as a template for the present as it is situated and articulated with a certain context, culture and tradition in mind, the ideational and philosophical underpinnings need to be recognised, as they can be considered as a source for epistemic practices for underlining the intellectual legacy and contours of strategic thinking in classical India”.1 The rich philosophical and ideational utility of the Arthashastra for foreign and strategic military intelligence has been well established in this book. Its applicability to modern-day India should have been obvious both from the point of view of a civilizational state as well as a defensive power. One of the biggest failures of Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru was in not realising that a defensive foreign and security policy hinged on an offensive intelligence capability. An offensive intelligence capability lay at the core of Kautilyan statecraft since national security and policy­ making rested on the pillars of a knowledge culture. Post-independence, India sacrificed this knowledge culture to ad hocism with a blind belief that national security would follow as a consequence of good intentions. The biggest lesson from the success of 1971 is that the security of India is directly dependent on the DOI: 10.4324/9781003296195-15

274 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises offensive capacity of her intelligence services and the knowledge base created thereof. It is noteworthy that even during 1971 India was still a defensive power that nurtured no expansionist or irredentist policies; but there was a realisation that such defensive policy framework could only be sustained by an offensive intelli­ gence posture. By the close of the century, however, knowledge culture and offensive intelligence posture had once again been replaced by culture of ad-hocism. Put simply, the model Kautilyan state that had emerged in the 1970s saw a revival of the typical Indian state by the 90s. Inevitably, the leaders of the state did not bother empowering the intelligence agencies to verify the legitimacy of the peace initiatives that were planned. What followed was the surprise of 1999. Therefore, the Indian state’s defensive posture, whatever be its merits, is a compelling reason to develop and maintain a robust offensive intelligence cap­ ability. When former Home Minister, Lal Krishna Advani, wrote that the Indian system had stopped being “intelligence literate”, one would have hoped that this is what he meant. However, the security developments in the 21st century fail to convince observers that India has revived its Kautilyan character. The 2008 Mumbai attacks and several other foreign and security policy blunders of the 21st century will probably have to wait for academic scrutiny supported by declassification of documents to assess the real change in India’s intelligence culture. However, sporadic studies conducted by the minimal Intelligence Studies footprint that India has hitherto been able to afford, do not invoke confidence. There has been a tendency to ritualistically ape the west and add on bureaucracies in the name of reform, bereft of contextual and cul­ tural understandings. These organisational reforms are meaningless at best, and counterproductive at worst, if they are not guided by a coherent national security strategy, reflecting the native requirements. To put in perspective the perils of piecemeal changes to the intelligence system and drive home the need for an overall cultural change, the following observations made by Ariel Levite, an Israeli intelligence scholar, are apt: “the strength of a chain is equivalent to the strength of its weakest link. When significant weaknesses exist in all or most of its links, improvements in only some of them, as drastic as they may be, will not result in any significant difference in the strength of the chain as a whole. Improve­ ments are required across the board”.2 In short, the entire Indian intelligence culture requires amplification to ensure that its individual components are significantly improved. Only when such a holistic improvement happens can one expect the five pillars of Indian intelli­ gence culture – the leadership, organisation, covert action, consumer literacy and international relations – to come together towards the fulfilment of India’s aspirations and security. To facilitate this, 21st-century India will require substantial public involvement and discussions on matters of intelligence policy. This is in no small measure

Epilogue 275 driven by the fact that manpower in Indian intelligence is fast shrinking alongside a rising threat environment. There is, however, hope given that a sense of mis­ sion and nationalism is high among the nation’s populace. How to harness this emotion to fulfil the nation’s intelligence mission is a question that will require positive transformations in both the public as well as the intelligence bureau­ cracies. To give an example, the strength of the R&AW during the 1970s derived in large part from its open market recruitment cutting across all walks of life. Simultaneously, there was both money and status acquired by working for the agency. As the economy grew and private avenues for employment expan­ ded, the R&AW failed to transform with time. In this context, a former R&AW officer argued that: “a structured bureaucracy is a very wrong thing for an intelligence service. There are no incentives and motivations for people to work. The new crop of IT people is not really worried about status. So, just give them money”.3 This implies that as the nature of employment and opportunities for skill projection improved elsewhere, the agency was stuck in yesteryear’s bureau­ cratic muddles. Likewise, the public has also been short on developing skills that are critical for intelligence missions. Picking on just one of the several skills required by an intelligence organisation, a former intelligence chief commented that: “our main problem has been that we don’t have enough language experts. Not just the R&AW—the country doesn’t produce them. Nobody wants to learn languages because it is not profitable. The linguists that our universities produce are mostly experts on ancient literature like the old Persian that is not in use anymore”.4 Such comments indicate that there is a fundamental incapability of the civil society to meet the intelligence services’ requirements in the new age threat environment; its desire to contribute notwithstanding. Hence, there is no gainsaying that there is an urgent need to revive the knowledge culture that is essential to nurture and develop a robust national security architecture. This can be facilitated by educating the Indian people about the ideal role and nature of foreign intelligence in India’s national security. Once the underlying principles of intelligence and national security are well articulated, the nation can deliberate on how to navigate the chal­ lenges and opportunities presented by the system. In this regard, knowing the past is important to understand what went wrong and how to rectify them. Through writing this book and narrating how India has ‘thought about’ and ‘done’ intelligence in the 20th century, an attempt has been made to pave the way for an effective public dialogue. India has rich lessons to draw from the philosophical and ideational expositions made in the Arthashastra as well as

276 India’s Intelligence Culture and Strategic Surprises the mistakes and accomplishments in its contemporary intelligence history. Should we fail to pay adequate attention to these histories even as we prepare for the challenges of the 21st century, one can only be reminded of Alexis de Tocqueville’s quote – “when the past no longer illuminates the future, the spirit walks in darkness”.

Notes 1 Medha Bisht, Kautilya’s Arthashastra: Philosophy and Strategy, London: Routledge, 2020, p. 2. 2 Ariel Levite, Intelligence and Strategic Surprises, New York: Columbia University Press, 1987, pp. 171–172. 3 Interview with former R&AW Special Secretary Vappala Balachandran, 16 Septem­ ber 2018. 4 Interview with former Secretary (Research) Vikram Sood, 22 October 2018.

Appendix:

Interviews (in chronological order)

Note: some of the interviewees have wished to remain anonymous. Their names are coded with an alphanumeric character. Former Military Intelligence Officer – M1, 11 July 2018 Air Marshal (Retired) Bijoy Krishna Pandey, 13 July 2018 Air Marshal (Retired) Sharad Yeshwant Savur, 14 July 2018 Lieutenant-General (Retired) K. Surendranath, 15 July 2018 Wing Commander (Retired) K.T. Sebastian, 15 July 2018 Defence Analyst Dr Bidanda Chengappa, 18 August 2018 Air Marshal (Retired) Narayanan Menon, 20 July 2018 Former Deputy Directorate-General (Signals) – D1, 22 July 2018 Former Deputy National Security Advisor Latha Reddy, 3 August 2018 Former R&AW Special Secretary – R1, 19 August 2018 Former Principal Director Naval Intelligence – P1, 28 August 2018 Former R&AW Special Secretary V. Balachandran, 16 September 2018 Former R&AW Special Secretary – R2, 22 September 2018 Military Intelligence Officer – M2, 23 September 2018 Military Intelligence Officer – M3, 24 September 2018 Defence Analyst Dr Bhashyam Kasturi, 16 October 2018 Former Inspector-General, Border Security Force (G-Branch), K. Srinivasan, 17 October 2018 Former Secretary (Research) A.S. Dulat, 18 October 2018 Former Secretary (Research) Vikram Sood, 22 October 2018 Former R&AW Additional Secretary Jayadev Ranade, 24 October 2018 Former Joint Intelligence Committee Chairman – J1, 24 October 2018 Former R&AW Additional Secretary – A1, 25 October 2018 Pakistan studies expert Sushant Sareen, 26 October 2018 Senior journalist and security analyst Praveen Swami, 29 October 2018 Former R&AW Special Secretary – R3, 30 October 2018 Major-General (Retired) Ashok Mehta, 30 October 2018 Former Secretary (Research) Narasimhan, 8 November 2018 Former Indian Home Secretary R.D. Pradhan, 14 November 2018 Admiral (Retired) Arun Prakash, 16 November 2018 Colonel (Retired) Ramani Hariharan, 1 December 2018

278 Appendix: Interviews (in chronological order) Commodore (Retired) R.S. Vasan, 1 December 2018 Brigadier Gurmeet Kanwal, 12 December 2018 Lieutenant-General (Retired) B.S. Malik, 14 December 2018 Lieutenant-General (Retired) R.K. Sawhney, 17 December 2018 Karnataka State Police Intelligence Officer – K1, 12 January 2019 Lieutenant-General (Retired) C.N. Somanna, 24 January 2019 Former Special Service Bureau Officer S1, 26 January 2019 Former R&AW Senior Field Officer F1, 29 January 2019 Intelligence studies scholar Dr Prem Mahadevan, 27 February 2019

Index

locators in italic and bold refer to figures and tables respectively. Adamson, Harvey 71 adaptive realism 53 ad hocism 273; 1962 case, IB prediction 265; consumer receptivity, lack of 265; cultural change, India 269; empirical knowledge, Indian intelligence 264; HUMINT 266; individual personality factors 269; intelligence managers 270; intelligence-policy divide, India 268, 268; intelligence-policy structure, Western democracies 267, 267; legislations and legal foundations 269; methodological professionalism 266; political subservience 270; strategic intelligence 268; tactical/actionable intelligence 265–266; wishful formalism 268 Advani, L.K. 209, 210, 274 Afghan Pipeline 200 Agartala Conspiracy, the 172 Agrell, Wilhelm 10 Ahmad, Anwar 90 Ahmad, Khondaker Mostaq 177, 182 Ahmed, Mahmud 203 Aksai Chin region 124, 125, 127, 143–145 Ali, Qurban 200 Allen, John 103, 104 alliances, international intelligence: adaptive realism 53; power balance, intelligence relationships 54–55; strategic 54 Aman – military intelligence 109 ambiguity 20–21, 231 AMIR see Annual Military Intelligence Review (AMIR) analysis of competing hypothesis 51, 264 Andrew, Christopher 68

Annual Military Intelligence Review (AMIR) 137 Ansari, Hamid 39 anviksiki (investigative science) 41 ARC see Aviation Research Centre (ARC) Armitage, Richard 54 Arthashastra, the 2, 273, 275; alliances 53–55; imaginary country 40–41; intelligence analysis 48–51; intelligence-consumer relationship 51–53; intelligence failures and surprises 55–56; purusharthas, life 41; rationale for intelligence, Kautilyan State 42–44; sadgunya theory 50, 51; saptanga analysis 50; spies 44–48; see also Kautilyan State and intelligence Assam Rifles patrol 130 Auchinleck, Claude 110 Aurora, Jagjit Singh 163, 183 autonomy 21, 231–232 Aviation Research Centre (ARC) 166, 167, 241 Awami League, The 164 Azad, Maulana 133 Bailey, Alan 244 Bajpai, G.S. 125, 145 Balachandran, Vappala 252, 253 Banerjee, P.N. 171, 172, 178, 240, 266 Banerjee, R.N. 95, 100 Bangladesh Liberation War, the: COSC 187, 188; DGS 187; intelligence-led-policymaking 187; military intelligence 187; political leadership, intelligence process 186–187; R&AW 186, 187; strategic intelligence 187

280 Index Bardoli Satyagraha of 1928 92

Battle of Assaye, 1803 64

Battle of Plassey, 1757 65

Battle of Waterloo 64

Bell, Walter 103

Ben-Gurion 109

Berlin-Rome axis 75

Betts, Richard 23, 265

Bhasani, Maulana 177

Bhishma Pitamaha, Indian intelligence

community 95

Bhutto, Benazir 200, 201, 203

Bhutto, Zulfikar Ali 179, 199, 236

Bingnan, Wang 143

Bisht, Medha 43

Black Shirts, the 177

Booth, Ken 23

Border Security Force (BSF) 173, 175,

177–180, 188, 211, 212

Bose, Subhas Chandra 73, 80, 110

Bourne, Kenneth 103

Bozeman, Adda 12, 14

British Joint Intelligence Committee 52

British Security Service (MI5) 15, 16, 72,

103, 104

Brunatti, Andrew 17

BSF see Border Security Force (BSF) Bunker, Ellsworth 141

Bus Diplomacy 207–210, 235

Butt, Ziauddin 205

Capper, Thompson 78

Carter, Jimmy 199

Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) 100,

128, 133, 166

Chaudhri, J.N. 138

Chavan, Y.B. 166, 167

Chiefs of Staff Committee (COSC)

187, 188

Chowdhary, R.S. 109

CIA see Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) CIDs see Criminal Investigation Departments (CIDs) clandestine agents 47

COIN see counter-insurgency (COIN) Coll, Steve 199

colonial intelligence: communism, threat of 72–74; hierarchical discrimination 65; IB/DIB 73–74; individuals, role of 64–65; Lord Curzon and first intelligence reform 67–70; policy developments 65; pyrrhic victory 64; reactive intelligence culture 64; revolutionary terrorism 70–72;

Sleeman and the Thagi Daftar 65–67; strategic military intelligence 76–80; World War II and intelligence reforms 74–76 Commonwealth Relations Office

(CRO) 134

communal trouble 1948–49 94

communism, threat of 72–74 consumer literacy: diplomatic consumers 243–246; military consumers 246–250; political consumers 242–243 COSC see Chiefs of Staff Committee (COSC) counter-insurgency (COIN) 202, 211,

212, 214, 216

covert action 132; DGS 240, 241; foreign

postings 240–241; human network

239; infrastructure, target country 239;

ISI 199; military planning, Indo-Pak

war 174–179; operational and

analytical desks, CIA 240; Tibet 239;

U.S. 239; weak 241–242

Criminal Investigation Departments

(CIDs) 68, 70, 94

critical empiricism and Indian intelligence

24–25

CRO see Commonwealth Relations

Office (CRO) Crosston, Matthew 18, 21, 22

cryptology 45

cry-wolf syndrome 51

Cuban missile crisis, the 127, 165, 248, 266

culture, intelligence: Canada and Tonga 17–18; and critical theory 22–24;

ethnocentrism 23; and intelligence

performances 25–26; IR 22, 23; IS

22–24; orthodox and revisionist schools

13–14; security literature 24–25; U.S.

and the U.K 15; see also Indian

intelligence culture

Daily Mail 131

Dalvi, J.P. 150

Damodaran, A.K. 244, 245

Dasch, George 15

Datta-Ray, Deep K. 112

Dave, A.K. 127, 142, 235

Davies, Philip 15, 269

DCI see Department of Criminal Intelligence (DCI) decolonisation: activities and reports 89;

Director position, IB 89, 90; interim

government 89; security and

destruction, records 89

Index 281 defence through diplomacy 92, 108, 109

Delhi Intelligence Bureau (DIB) 73

demand driven tasking system 242

de Marenches, Alexandre 252

Department of Criminal Intelligence (DCI) 68–70 Desai, M.J. 149

Desai, Morarji 133, 234

devil’s advocacy 51, 264

DGMI see Director-General of Military Intelligence (DGMI) DGS see Directorate General of Security (DGS) Dhar, D.P. 163

Dhar, P.N. 184

Dharmashastras 41

Diaz, Milton 11

DIB see Delhi Intelligence Bureau (DIB) Directorate General of Security (DGS)

107, 166–168, 187

Director Criminal Intelligence 69, 72

Director-General of Military Intelligence

(DGMI) 211, 246

Discovery of India, The (Nehru, Jawaharlal)

92, 106, 108

domestic political situation, Nepal 1950 94

Double-Cross System 16

Dulat, A.S. 237, 241, 252

Dulles, John Foster 128

Dunham, Mikel 133

Dutt, Subimal 141

Duyvesteyn, Isabelle 16, 18

Ear-Marking Scheme (EMS) 102, 236

East Pakistan Conspiracy, the 172

Eisenhower, Dwight D. 143

empirical knowledge, Indian

intelligence 264

EMS see Ear-Marking Scheme (EMS) Enlai, Zhou 125, 140, 165

ethnocentrism 23

Ewart, John 74

Exercise Lal Quila 148

Exercise Sheel 148

Fabian socialism 108

FBI see Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI)

15, 16

Ford, Douglas 16

Foreign Service Research Bureau

(FSRB) 108

Forjoe, Ben 107

Forward Policy, Sino-Indian War 126,

148, 149; AMIR assessment 137–138;

incomplete information 139; JIC

138; manning, border 138; MI

Directorate 138

French, Patrick 91

frontier intelligence, Sino-Indian War:

Assam Rifles patrol 130; Chinese

intelligence dominance 131;

counterintelligence, Chinese 131;

covert action 132; hospitality and

allurement tactics, China 130; IFAS

129; language 131; local tribes 129;

logistical difficulties 131; mule rides

128, 129; Sinkiang-Karakoram-Leh

128; TECHINT 132; vehicular

movement 128

FSRB see Foreign Service Research Bureau (FSRB) Gandhi, Indira 11, 101, 163, 165,

168–170, 175, 180, 186, 188, 201,

208, 231, 233–236, 238, 240, 242, 250

Gandhi, Mahatma 90

Gandhi, Rajiv 101, 180, 235, 242

Gandhi, Rajmohan 89

GC&CS see Government Code and Cipher School (GC&CS) Ghadr movement, the 74

Gopal, Sarvepalli 91

Government Code and Cipher School

(GC&CS) 73

guda 44

Gujral, I.K. 241, 243

Gundevia, Y.D. 146

Haganah, Zionist military organisation 109

Haksar, P.N. 169, 186, 233, 234

Handoo, G.K. 170

Haq, Zia-ul 199, 201–203, 205

Heuer, Richards Jr. 51

Himmatsinghji Committee 105, 136

Hindi Chini Bhai-Bhai 125, 137

Hollis, Roger 104

honeytrap 47

Honig, Or 14

Hooja, M.M.L. 168

Hoover, J. Edgar 99, 100

Hopple, Gerald 14

human intelligence (HUMINT) 44, 46,

66, 79; HUMINT vs. TECHINT

47–48; POK region 211; Sino-Indian

relations 127; strategic 266;

transborder 129

282 Index HUMINT see human intelligence (HUMINT) IB see Intelligence Bureau (IB) ICS see Indian Civil Service (ICS) idealism 90 IFAS see Indian Frontier Administrative Service (IFAS) IFSU see Intelligence Field Security Units (IFSU) INA see Indian National Army (INA) Indian Airlines flight, hijack of 179 Indian Civil Service (ICS) 69, 104 Indian Frontier Administrative Service (IFAS) 129, 131 Indian intelligence: ad hoc-ism 21, 22; ambiguity, policies 20–21; autonomy 21; British legacy, continuation of 102–105; counterterrorism 19; cultural change 111; empirical knowledge 264; Kautilyan to modern 106–112; policy of restraint 20; political patronage 102–103; racial divide 104, 105; social science methods of analysis, lack of 264; strategic thinking, lack of 19, 20; see also post-colonial Indian intelligence culture Indian intelligence culture: 1962, 1971 and 1999 wars 232; ambiguity 231; autonomy 231–232; consumer literacy 242–250; covert action capabilities 239–242; empirical observations 229; evolutionary structure 230; intelligence leadership 232–235; intelligence organisation 235–239; international relations 250–253; restraint factor 230–231; strategic surprises 232 Indian National Army (INA) 109, 110 Indian Police Service (IPS) 102, 104, 236, 238 Indian Press Law, 1910 75 Indian Security Studies 24–25 India’s first intelligence reform and Lord Curzon 77; ad hoc mechanism 67; Central Special Branch, the 68; CIDs 68, 70; DCI 68–70; domestic political espionage 67; ICS officers 69; Intelligence Department, the 70; piecemeal improvements, military intelligence 67; secret intelligence, aversion to 67–68; spying, British aversion 67, 68 Indira Doctrine 168, 186

Indo-Pak war, 1971 23; air strikes 163; ARC 167; Awami League, The 164; civilian intelligence, India 170; covert action, military planning 174–179; DGS 166–168; East-Pakistani crisis, R&AW assessment 171–173; electoral results 165; ELINT aircrafts 167; fiasco, 1962 166–168; intelligence basis 179–184; intelligence decision-making and operations 173–179; international political climate 165; military intelligence 167; official declaration 163; operational and tactical intelligence, R&AW 184–186; Operation Searchlight 165; R&AW 168–171; refugee crisis 165; SFF 166, 176; SSB 166–167; West and East Pakistan 164, 164 Indo-Soviet Treaty of Friendship and Co-operation 165 Indo-Sri Lanka Peace Accord, 1987 235, 243 Institute of Defence Studies and Analysis 237 intelligence: co-operation 54; cultures of 13–19; definition 10–11; failures and surprises 55–56; intelligence-consumer relationship 51–53; leadership, strength of 232–235; organisation, strength of 235–239; orthodox-revisionist dichotomy 13–14; strategic 12; see also culture, intelligence; Kautilyan State and intelligence; secret intelligence, Arthashastra intelligence analysis: conflicting analysis 50; descriptive element, strategic intelligence 49; Kautilyan state 48–51 Intelligence Bureau (IB) 67; association, MI5 104; birth of 72–74; class-1 officers 102; cryptography branch 170; Director position, decolonisation 89, 90; external intelligence front 97; foreign intelligence 98; formal structure 73; Forward Policy, Sino-Indian War 137–139; Ghanaian intelligence 107; intelligence coverage, China 128; intelligence dominance 75; Japanese subversive activities, China 75; Muslim personnel, strength of 102; outdated analytical framework, Sino-Indian War 142–144; political espionage 101; Second World War 76 intelligence-consumer relationship 51–53 Intelligence Corps 79, 110, 136, 246, 247

Index 283 intelligence failure 1, 4, 9, 13–15, 23–25, 55–56, 139, 179, 215, 229, 236, 239, 269; see also Sino-Indian War Intelligence Field Security Units (IFSU) 246 Intelligence Operatives (IO) 105 intelligence–political consumer relationship, independent India: DIB, post of 96, 100–101; external intelligence front 97; foreign intelligence 96, 98, 100; intelligence managers 100–102; JIC 96; manpower, shortage of 97; Mullik, B.N. 100–101; political espionage, IB 101; recruitment 102; U.S. visit, Sanjeevi 99–100 Intelligence Studies (IS) 22; scholarship 23–24; U.S. and the U.K. 15 international intelligence co-operation 133–135 International Relations (IR) 22, 23, 250–253 Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) 55, 199–201 IO see Intelligence Operatives (IO) IR see International Relations (IR) Iraq war debacle, 2003 15, 23 IS see Intelligence Studies (IS) ISI see Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) Jaish-e-Mohammed 201 JIC see Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) Johnson, Robert 66 Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) 96, 102, 134, 138, 182, 243 Kahn’s Law 249 Kao, R.N. 39, 167–173, 176, 180, 185–188, 208, 233–238, 240, 245, 251, 252, 266 kapatika (intelligence officers) 44 Kargil Review Committee (KRC) 208 Kargil War, 1999 1, 4, 197; Bus Diplomacy 197, 207–210; COIN 202, 211, 212, 214, 216; intrusion 197; Jammu and Kashmir region 198; operation TOPAC 201–202; Pakistan’s Foreign Policy 199–201; raison d’être, Pakistan 203–207; strategic intelligence and defence planning 211–217 Katju, K.N. 137 Kaul, B.M. 138, 149, 150 Kaul, T.N. 245 Kaur, Amrit 91 Kautilya 2, 39–56, 88, 106, 108, 273

Kautilyan State and intelligence: alliances 53–55; analysis 48–51; culture 56–57; foresight 56; guda 44; intelligenceconsumer relationship 51–53; kapatika 44; king, qualities of 42; knowledge, power of 42, 43, 56; modus operandi 44–48; operational covers 44; policy of non-intervention 43; power 42; rationale for 42–44; sa-dgunya theory 50, 51; samstha 44; sapta-nga analysis, enemy 50; sattri 45; spies 44–48; sudras 46; three-tier intelligence system 44 Kautilyan State to the Colonial State: communism, threat of 72–74; hierarchical discrimination 65; IB/DIB 73–74; individuals, role of 64–65; Lord Curzon and first intelligence reform 67–70; policy developments 65; pyrrhic victory 64; reactive intelligence culture 64; revolutionary terrorism 70–72; Sleeman and the Thagi Daftar 65–67; strategic military intelligence 76–80; World War II and intelligence reforms 74–76 Kautilyan to modern intelligence culture, metamorphosis: consolidation of power, INC 106; defence through diplomacy 108, 109; DGS, creation of 107; Fabian socialism 108; foreign intelligence 112; FSRB 108; Ghanaian intelligence 107; INA 109–110; Israel comparison 108–109; knowledge culture 111; Nehru, Kautilyan philosophy 106, 108 Kennan, George 99, 100 Kennedy, John F. 151 Kent, Sherman 11, 49 Khan, Tausifullah 102 Khan, Yahya 163, 165 Kissinger, Henry 165, 183, 204, 205 Kitchener 77 Kitchin, Eric 103 Kongka Pass 125, 145 KRC see Kargil Review Committee (KRC) Lahore Bus Diplomacy 207–210, 235 Lahore Declaration 243 Lama, Dalai 125, 136, 140, 239, 251 Lashkar-e-Toiba 201 leadership, intelligence 232–235 Le Courrier des Indes, French weekly 89 Lei, Shiue 137 Liddell, Guy 99

284 Index Liebig, Michael 40, 42, 49, 106

Longju incident 148

Longju Pass 125, 130, 145

Lord Curzon 67–70, 77, 81

Lord Dufferin 68

Lord Mountbatten 136, 138

Lord Northbrook 67

Lord Salisbury 67

Mahabharata 41

Mahadevan, Prem 19, 20, 151

Mallaby, Christopher 244

Manekshaw, Sam 165, 176, 181, 183,

187, 188

Mao 104, 123–153, 165, 183, 265

Marwan, Ashraf 266

McMahon line 124, 142, 148

MEA see Ministry of External Affairs (MEA) mehmaan mujahideen 202

Mehta, Ashok 150

Mehta, K.L. 138

Mehta, P.L. 96

Menon, Krishna 73, 100, 103, 125, 126,

132–135, 139, 140, 145, 146, 148–151,

172, 250

Menon, V.P. 97

methodological professionalism 263,

266, 267

MHA see Ministry of Home Affairs (MHA) MI5 see British Security Service (MI5) MI6 see Secret Intelligence Service (SIS/MI6) military intelligence, Sino-Indian War:

border observation posts 136;

counterintelligence and security 136;

language impediment 137; MINTSD

136; tri-service intelligence wing 135

Military Intelligence Training School and

Depot (MINTSD) 136

military planning, Sino-Indian War:

assumptions vs. outcomes 147; Forward

Policy 148, 149; Indian Army, the 147,

148; terrain analysis 148; Thorat Plan

148, 149

Ministry of External Affairs (MEA) 169

Ministry of Home Affairs (MHA) 97, 98,

102, 169, 170

MINTSD see Military Intelligence Training School and Depot (MINTSD) Mitra, Subrata K. 106

Modern Review 106

Moni, Fazlul Haq 178

Monroe Doctrine 168

Morley-Minto reforms 70

Mujib Bahini 178

Mukti Bahini 175–177 Mullik, B.N. 94–96, 100–105, 107, 123,

126, 127, 129, 132, 136, 137, 139,

141, 142, 145, 146, 152, 166–169,

180, 232, 233, 235–237, 239, 250, 270

Mumbai attacks, 2008 274

Musharraf, Parvez 203

Nair, M.B.K. 182

Nair, Sankaran 209, 234, 266, 270

Nambiar, A.C.N. 208

Namgyal, Tashi 197

Napier, Robert 67

Narasimhan, N. 46

Narasimha Rao, P.V. 243

Nasser, Gamal Abdel 266

National Liberation Front, the 179

National Security Adviser (NSA) 235, 245

national security and intelligence, Patel

and Nehru’s conflicting ideas:

centralisation, intelligence 93; civil

service 91; defence through diplomacy

92; foreign intelligence 95; INC 92;

internal unity 91; Muslim League, the

93; policymaking, IB 95; power,

institutionalisation of 91; spy,

Nizam’s court 93

National Security Council Secretariat

(NSCS) 209

NEFA see Northeast Frontier Agency (NEFA) Nehru, Jawaharlal 20, 73, 88, 90–112,

123–153, 166, 168, 169, 200, 231,

233, 239, 242, 243, 270, 273

Nehru, R.K. 126

Nehru-Liaquat Pact on East-Pakistan

1950 94

Newspapers Act, 1908 75

Ngawang, Dapon Ratuk 176

Niazi, A.A.K. 163, 175

Nitishastras 41

Nkrumah, Kwame 107

NLI see Northern Light Infantry (NLI) NOCs see non-official covers (NOCs) non-official covers (NOCs) 44, 45

Northeast Frontier Agency (NEFA) 124, 130

Northern Light Infantry (NLI) 206

NSA see National Security Adviser (NSA) NSCS see National Security Council Secretariat (NSCS)

Index 285 Official Secrets Act 24

Operation Barbarossa, 1941 266

Operation Chengiz Khan 163

Operation Koh-e-Paima/Badr 203, 204

Operation Searchlight 165

Operation TOPAC 201–202

organisational strength 235–239

Palit, D.K. 101

pan-Africanism 107

Panchsheel Agreement, April 1954 125,

146, 242

Pandit, Vijayalakshmi 100

Panikkar, K.M. 127, 137, 145

Patel, Sardar Vallabhbhai 88–97, 99–101,

103, 105, 106, 108, 111, 125, 133, 145

Patnaik, Biju 166, 167

PDNI see Principal Director Naval

Intelligence (PDNI)

Pearl Harbor attack 23, 147

Penkovsky, Oleg 266

People’s Daily 140

People’s Liberation Army (PLA) 183

Phantoms of Chittagong, the 176

Pilditch, Denys 89

Pillai, Rao Bahadur Sanjeevi 90, 94–100,

127, 133

PLA see People’s Liberation Army (PLA)

political subservience 270

Popplewell, Richard 72

post-colonial Indian intelligence culture:

continuation, British legacy 102–105; decolonisation 89–90; metamorphosis 106–112; Patel and Nehru’s conflicting ideas 90–95; political consumer relationship, independent India 95–102 pragmatism 90

pratyanıkam 52

predecessor syndrome 235

Principal Director Naval Intelligence

(PDNI) 136

purusharthas, life 41

pyrrhic victory 64

Qureshi, Ashraf 179

Qureshi, Hashim 179, 180

racial divide, Indian intelligence 104

Raghavan, Srinath 138

Rahman, Akhtar Abdul 199

Rahman, Mujibur 171, 172

railway strike 1949 94

Rajadharma 42, 43, 64

Ramayana 41

Ram Rajya, the 90

RAND Corporation study 184

Rangarajan, L.N. 40

rasuda (poisoner) 45

R&AW see Research and Analysis Wing (R&AW) Reagan, Ronald 199

Reddy, Latha 245

Reddy, Ramaswami 90

Red Sea Littoral 74, 75

Rehman, Mujibur 164

Renmin Ribao (Zhou) 140

Research and Analysis Wing (R&AW)

163, 264; birth of 168–171; covert

role, Indo-Pak War 174–179;

East-Pakistani crisis, assessment of

171–173; Military Intelligence Liaison

Cell 170; operational and tactical

intelligence 184–186; Operation

TOPAC 201–202; recruitment 170;

stations 180–181; structural placement

169; TECHINT 170

revolutionary terrorism: British Raj era

71; DCI 71, 72; political assassinations

70; provincial police officers 71

Roberts, Frederick 67

roving spies 45

Roy, Mihir 177

sadgunya theory 50, 51

Sadiq, G.M. 179

samstha 44

Sanjeevi, T.G. 70, 232

saptanga analysis 50

SAS see Special Air Service (SAS) sattri (spies) 45

Savarkar, Vinayak Damodar 70

Saxena, G.C. 237

SEAC see South East Asia Command (SEAC)

Sebold, William 15

secret intelligence, Arthashastra: clandestine agents 47; covert action part 45–46; descriptive element, strategic intelligence 49; HUMINT vs. TECHINT 47–48; institution of spies 44–48; integrity and loyalty 46–47; intelligence analysis 48–51; knowledge, production of 48–51; power, Kautilyan state 42–43; spy recruitment 46; worker community 46 Secret Intelligence Service (SIS/MI6) 52

Security Liaison Officer (SLO) 103

286 Index Security Liaison Units, London 101

Sengupta, Hindol 92

Sepoy Mutiny, 1857 66, 71

SFF see Special Frontier Force (SFF) Sharif, Nawaz 203, 205, 206

Sharma, Jai Narayan 102

Shiloah, Reuven 109

SIGINT see signals intelligence (SIGINT) signals intelligence (SIGINT) 79, 182,

183, 236

Sims, Jennifer 268

Singh, Charan 234

Singh, Hoshiar 151

Singh, Zorawar Daulet 186

Sinha, Sumal 146

Sinkiang-Karakoram-Leh, Chinese

infiltration 128

Sinkiang-Tibet highway 125

Sino-Indian war, 1962 1, 23, 104; Aksai

Chin region 124, 125, 145; Beijing’s

analysis 141; Chinese Betrayal, the 123;

Chinese communism 125; deception,

China 142–144; Dhola Post 140, 149;

disputed regions 124; estimative

blunders and 1962 shock 142–144;

foreign intelligence 126; forward

policy, strategic intelligence 126,

137–139; friendship, China 125;

frontier region, intelligence from

128–133; historic humiliation 150; IB’s

failure 144–145; intelligence coverage,

China 126–127; international

intelligence co-operation 133–135;

Mao’s decision, strike India 139–142;

military intelligence 135–137; military

planning 126, 147–152; NEFA 124;

outdated analytical framework, IB

142–144; PLA troops 141–142;

strategic intelligence, mainland China

126–128; Tibetan rebellion 130, 140;

unilateral ceasefire 151; wishful

thinking consumers, prevalence of

145–147

SIS see Secret Intelligence Service (SIS/MI6) Sleeman, William Henry 65–67, 69, 81

Sleeman and Thagi Daftar: approvers 66;

intelligence, EIC 66–67; military

operations, native rulers 65; native

intelligence infrastructure 65;

occupied intelligence agents 65; thugee

crimes 66

SLO see Security Liaison Officer (SLO) Smith, Norman 89, 92, 93

SOE see Special Operations Executive (SOE)

Soni, V.B. 245

Sood, Vikram 105, 240, 241, 270

South East Asia Command (SEAC) 79

Soviet-Afghan War, the 199–201

Special Air Service (SAS) 167

Special Frontier Force (SFF) 166, 176

Special Operations Executive (SOE) 79

Special Service Bureau (SSB) 130,

166–167, 233, 234

SSB see Special Service Bureau (SSB)

Stevenson-Moore, Charles 70–72

Stiefler, Todd 239

Stimson, Henry 92

strategic alliance criteria, Kautilya 54

strategic autonomy 21, 231, 250, 251

strategic intelligence: Bangladesh

Liberation War, the 187; descriptive element 49; forward policy, Sino-Indian War 126, 137–139; Kargil sector, the 211–217 strategic military intelligence, British

India: cultural flaws 77; Forward

Interrogation Centres 79; geographical

coverage, Intelligence Branch 76–77;

Intelligence Corps 79; meagre training

78; prisoner interrogation 79–80;

professional seriousness 80; SIGINT

79; SOE 79

strategic surprise: definition 12; surprise attack 12

Stuart, Harold 71

Subrahmanyam, K. 19–22, 138, 145, 207,

231, 270

Sun-Tzu syndrome 18

surprise: definition 12; methodological

professionalism and tactical indicators, lack of 267; total 12–13; warning intelligence 13; see also Kargil War, 1999; strategic surprise Swami, Praveen 264

systematism 268

Tanham, George 19, 21, 22

technical intelligence (TECHINT) 132

Thagi Daftar 65–67

Thapar, Pran 149

Tharoor, Shashi 108

Thimmayya 130, 136, 146, 148, 149

Thondup, Gyalo 132, 239, 251

Thorat 123, 148

Thorat Plan 148, 149

thugee crimes 66

Index 287 Tibetan rebellion, 1959 130, 140

tikshna (assassin) 45

transmogrification, ideas and intelligence operations: communism, threat of 72–74; hierarchical discrimination 65; IB/DIB 73–74; individuals, role of 64–65; Lord Curzon and first intelligence reform 67–70; policy developments 65; pyrrhic victory 64; reactive intelligence culture 64; revolutionary terrorism 70–72; Sleeman and the Thagi Daftar 65–67; strategic military intelligence 76–80; World War II and intelligence reforms 74–76 Tuker, Francis 67

Tzu, Sun 41

Uban, Sujan Singh 176, 178

Union Public Service Commission

(UPSC) 237

UPSC see Union Public Service Commission (UPSC) U’ren, Bill 103

Vajpayee, Atal Bihari 197, 207, 210, 243

Vickery, Philip 72, 93

vyanjanáh (occupational cover) 44

Wallinger, John 72

Warner, Michael 11

warning intelligence 13

War of Bangladesh Liberation, 1971 1

Washington Post, The 127

Wavell, Archibald 79, 89

Wellesley, Arthur 64

WHAM see winning hearts and minds (WHAM) Wignall, Sydney 140

Wilson, Charlie 199

winning hearts and minds (WHAM) 167

wishful formalism 268

World War II and intelligence reforms 74–76 Yom Kippur War, 1973 204, 266

Zia’s War 199

Zionist freedom movement 109