International Relations in South Asia: Search for an Alternative Paradigm 2008031649, 9788178298702, 9788132100522, 9789352801039

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International Relations in South Asia

International Relations in South Asia Search for an Alternative Paradigm

Edited by NAVNITA CHADHA BEHERA

Copyright © Navnita Chadha Behera, 2008 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. First published in 2008 by SAGE Publications India Pvt Ltd B1/ I-1 Mohan Cooperative Industrial Area Mathura Road, New Delhi 110 044, India SAGE Publications Inc 2455 Teller Road Thousand Oaks, California 91320, USA SAGE Publications Ltd 1 Oliver’s Yard, 55 City Road London EC1Y 1SP, United Kingdom SAGE Publications Asia-Pacific Pte Ltd 33 Pekin Street #02-01 Far East Square Singapore 048763 Published by Vivek Mehra for SAGE Publications India Pvt Ltd, typeset in 10.5/12.6 pt Aldine401 BT by Excellent Laser Typesetters, Delhi and printed at Chaman Enterprises, New Delhi. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data International relations in South Asia: search for an alternative paradigm/ edited by Navnita Chadha Behera. p.cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. South Asia—Politics and government. 2. International relations—Study and Teachings—South Asia. I. Behera, Navnita Chadha. DS341.I584

327.54—dc22

2008

2008031649

ISBN: 978-81-7829-870-2 (HB) The SAGE Team: Elina Majumdar, Uma Puroshothaman, Anju Saxena and Trinankur Banerjee

1 Contents

Acknowledgements 1. International Relations in South Asia: State of the Art Navnita Chadha Behera 2. Distant Futures and Alternative Presents for South Asia Sohail Inayatullah

vii

1 51

3. Identity without Exceptionalism: Challenges for Asian Political and International Studies Amitav Acharya

74

4. Our Region Their Theories: A Case for Critical Security Studies in South Asia Haider K. Nizamani

90

5. Pluralism, Democracy and Ethnic Conflict Resolution: Possibilities in Sri Lanka for State Re-making Jayadeva Uyangoda

110

6. The Westphalian State in South Asia and Future Directions Mijarul Quayes

128

7. Nepal: From Authoritarianism to Democracy Ganga Bahadur Thapa 8. Intra-State/Inter-State Conflicts in South Asia: The Constructivist Alternative to Realism Shibashis Chatterjee

152

177

vi Contents

09. The Agent-Structure Problem and India’s External Security Policy Varun Sahni 10. Can Non-Provocative Defence Work for Pakistan? Ayesha Siddiqa

209 235

11. Exploring the Linkages between Rights and Security in South Asia Neera Chandhoke

252

12. States in Crisis, Subalternity and Security Stakes: The Case for a Track-Three Strategy in South Asia Anand Aditya

271

13. A Critique of Contemporary Liberal IR Theory from a South Asian Standpoint A.K. Ramakrishnan

296

14. Stripping Women, Securing the Sovereign ‘National’ Body: The State of Exception in Everyday Life Mangalika de Silva About the Editor and Contributors Index

306

329 331

1 Acknowledgements

This volume has been a collective venture which depended on the contributions of several individuals and institutions. First and foremost, I would like to thank Amitav Acharya and Hari Singh for inviting me to organize the first APISA (Asian Political Science and International Studies Association) Regional Workshop for South Asia at Goa in 2003. I am particularly indebted to Hari Singh for his enormous patience and constant encouragement through several turbulent periods during these past four years. This volume is a product of the Goa workshop that was attended by 26 scholars from across the South Asian and Southeast Asian regions. I would like to take this opportunity to thank all the workshop participants who enriched its deliberations. My research assistant, Anisha Kinra, provided invaluable support in helping me plan and organize this workshop. I am deeply indebted to the authors for their patience, hard work, and for co-operating so generously for this venture. Without their time and efforts, this book would not have materialized. As ever, I wish to thank my husband, Ajay, for his unfailing support and my daughter, Ananya, for her little albeit precious generosities in allowing my ‘absence’ at all those times we should have been together.

1 International Relations in South Asia State of the Art Navnita Chadha Behera

I

nternational Relations is a young discipline that has yet to earn an independent status in the South Asian region. No more than half a dozen universities in each country offer Undergraduate and/or Masters programmes in International Relations (IR) even though Jawaharlal Nehru University at New Delhi has the distinction of hosting one of the leading schools of International Studies in Asia. South Asian contributions to mainstream International Relations literature—barring a few important exceptions—have also been minimal. They have mostly adapted discourses produced in the West partly because of the predominance of the structures of Western philosophy1 backed by powerful institutions and partly due to their own intellectual dependency on the latter. A review of the existing literature shows that several state-of-thefield critiques offer disciplinary and pedagogic reasons to explain the poor conceptualizations of the IR discipline (USEFI Report 2003; Rana 1989; Rajan 1997; Rana and Misra 2004; Banerjee 2000; Cheema and Rais 2001; Rais 2005). The evolution and contours of the epistemic foundations of IR in the South Asian context have, however, remained largely unexamined—a gap this volume seeks to fulfil. This is especially important because the disciplinary boundaries of IR theory are ontologically and epistemologically so constituted as to largely preclude voices from the peripheries from being heard. The purpose of this volume is to precisely work towards creating alternative spaces where, in the long run, the foundational claims of what constitutes IR; its inclusions and exclusions; and its boundaries can be debated afresh.

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DISCIPLINARY LOCATION IR’s relationship with Area Studies and the parent discipline of Political Science has tremendously stilted its growth. Recounting the historical context of this debate as it emerged in the US after the Second World War, Acharya (in this volume), points to multidisciplinarity and emphasis on field research as the distinguishing features of Area Studies while a disciplinary approach seeks to identify general regularities, which are not context-bound. Formal theorists view the primary function of Area Studies to be to provide raw data for theory testing and often describe the latter’s work as ‘a-theoretical’. The area specialists, on the other hand, argue that formal theory alone would fail to illuminate ‘real societies and the conduct of historically situated human agents’ (Ibid.). Clearly, both have their strengths and weaknesses. The problem in the South Asian context lies in a conceptual conflation of the discipline-oriented IR studies with idiographic foreign area studies. The Indian conception of IR, known as International Studies, is one such peculiar product where the disciplinary IR was often subsumed under the latter’s rubric that led to a critical neglect of the former’s development. Area Studies are multidisciplinary and IR is only one of the disciplines they embrace but they were wrongly equated with the latter based on a somewhat simplistic assumption that the areas being studied were ‘foreign’. That is why the belief that ‘in funding Areas Studies, the International Relations studies are also axiomatically being funded’ is a ‘damaging misconception’. (Rana 1988a: 47) Most departments in Pakistani universities also adopted an area study approach to organize their teaching programmes while little attention was paid to the main fields of the discipline (Rais 2003a: 47). Some of the departments have specified areas of specialization such as International Relations, Strategic Studies, International Law and Organization while others focus on Area Studies especially South Asia and the Middle East. When the Tribhuvan University in Nepal first introduced International Relations in its Masters programme in the early 1970s, Area Studies dominated its curriculum that included courses on foreign policies of major powers and neighbouring countries; regional studies focussing on South and Southeast Asia, West Asia and Africa as well as comparative studies of governments

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in United States of America (USA), United Kingdom (UK), Soviet Union along with neighbouring countries like China, Pakistan and India (Khatri 2003: 28). International Relations’ disciplinary location in the Political Science departments has proved to be another critical impediment. Barring a few exceptions, International Relations in most South Asian countries is taught as a paper under other subjects such as Political Science, Economics, History and so on. In Pakistan, for instance, Karachi University was the first to open a Department of International Relations in 1958 followed by Quaid-i-Azam University, Islamabad, Sindh University, Jamshoro, University of Baluchistan, Quetta, Shah Abdul Latif University, Khairpur and the University of Peshawar. (Rais 2005: 16). In most other universities, courses on International Relations are offered by the departments of Political Science. In Nepal, Political Science itself remained a forbidden subject during the 104 years of Rana rule. In 1950–51, it was introduced not as an independent discipline, but as part of Civics in matriculation examinations. After the establishment of Tribhuvan University in 1959, intermediate level teaching (lower undergraduate level) focussed on civil rights and obligations and policies of the Panchayat political system introduced in the early 1960s and, in the degree course, Public Administration courses were introduced with greater focus on modern governments and the Nepalese Constitution. In Sri Lanka, none of its universities offered a programme in IR till as late as 1984 when for the first time, the University of Colombo and the School of International Service of the American University in Washington D.C. concluded an agreement in August 1984 to develop a collaborative programme of three years within the broader field of public and international affairs. A two years Masters programme in IR was first offered in 1985. The oldest department of IR in South Asia is located at the Dhaka University, which first offered the Masters programme in 1947–48. Interestingly, at that time, it was part of the Arts faculty with teachers drawn from the disciplines of History, Economics, Political Science and Commerce. The courses offered were multidisciplinary in scope with an emphasis on language studies (Kalam and Hussain 2003: 3). The department gradually shifted to the faculty of social sciences, initially by offering its subsidiary programmes to students from liberal arts as well as social science disciplines that was discontinued

4 Navnita Chadha Behera

only in 1998. It now offers a four-year integrated Bachelor of Social Science (BSS) Honours programme and a one year Masters in Social Science programme. Jahangirnagar is the only other university which has a full-fledged IR department established in1998. Earlier, its departments of History and Government and Politics offered various courses on IR at the M.A. and D. Phil levels. This is also the case in other public universities in Rajshahi and Chittagong and private universities like North-South University, Independent University of Bangladesh, People’s University of Bangladesh and so on. In India’s case, ‘the academic space available to this area of scholarship’ even in the central universities and ‘major departments of Political Science, has relatively shrunk—alarmingly so’ (Rana and Misra 2004: 76). This is also because Political Science is much more deeply rooted in political theory and philosophy while International Relations ‘is taught as divorced from the world of political theory with the exception of a Hobbes or a Machiavelli’, significantly not Kautilya, to demonstrate ‘the eternal circulation of power and interests’ (Mallavarapu 2004: 4). Its courses mostly consist of an amalgam of diplomatic history of the two World Wars and relations between major powers (read Europe) during the inter-war years followed by the superpower rivalry during the Cold War. The home country’s foreign relations with a host of countries are taught in detail, albeit in a chronological and narrative mode of analysis. As for IR theory, there is little effort devoted to the fundamental debates and concepts in IR to give students an appreciation of the major intellectual tools available to them in analysing world affairs. The sub-fields of IR including Security Studies, Peace and Conflict Studies, International Law and International Political Economy mostly remain confined to optional courses at the Masters level and others such as Environmental Studies, International Ethics, Globalization and Gender Studies are rarely taught. This has resulted in a very narrow intellectual base of the discipline.

ISSUES OF PEDAGOGY Dissatisfaction with the field has also been attributed to pedagogical reasons including the lack of proper teaching materials and textbooks

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in English language as well as translations in Hindi, Urdu, Bengali, Tamil, Sinhala and other regional languages, the insufficiency of funds, misguided educational policies and so on. These are discussed below.

Institution Building Strategies Institutional strategies—at the national and regional levels—for sharing intellectual and literary resources for training teachers, making available locally-produced good quality text books and developing focussed and up-to-date syllabi that take into account the geo-cultural sensitivities of the country/region in question and establishing good libraries and documentation centres in different countries in the region and even different parts of larger countries like India and Pakistan, have been lacking. While the discipline merited greater attention from institutions—governmental and nongovernmental—because of its importance to the contemporary global realities, the underselling of International Relations in South Asia was both a cause and consequence of neglecting the critical task of institution building.

Funding Lack of funds and infrastructure has severely impeded the growth of the field of IR. For nearly thirty seven years in India, no funding was available for this discipline while Area Studies programmes and centres mushroomed within and outside the universities and while funding bodies believed that ‘“International Studies” were well looked after’ (Rana and Misra 2004: 75–76). The Department of Political Science at Baroda was perhaps the only exception getting special funding from the University Grants Commission (UGC) in the thrust area of IR though it made a conscious choice to avoid using the common Indian designation of ‘International Studies’ (Ibid.). State funding for higher education is highly centralized in the UGC which is selective in what it supports, while being driven by

6 Navnita Chadha Behera

political imperatives of distributive equity and often, the priorities of the ruling regime. Given the vast scope of its responsibilities, the UGC is bound to be bureaucratic and arbitrary in its allocations. The Indian Council for Social Science Research (ICSSR) operates under similar constraints. There are virtually no alternative domestic sources of academic funding. The local philanthropy as well as the indigenous capital of the corporate sector has not been tapped to fund international studies though this is beginning to change.2 Foreign funding for IR, especially in its formative years, was also not encouraged by India’s first Prime Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru. Though the Ford Foundation, for example, was invited to open its office at New Delhi in 1952, Nehru and the Ford Foundation’s first representative, Douglas Ensminger’s shared belief that ‘the road to peace lies through development’ and, the Prime Minister’s aversion to ‘outside’ interference in India’s foreign affairs directed maximum fund allocation towards the field of economics (Behera 2003, 2004). The situation has changed considerably in the past two decades, but the quantum of foreign funding in IR remains small; confined to research institutions based in New Delhi along with a few other metropolitan centres; and is predominantly devoted to producing ‘policy-relevant’ research. In Bangladesh, the government’s attitude towards the expansion of IR teaching is best described as ‘apathetic while the private or non-governmental sectors are unconcerned about the development of the discipline at the higher level of education’ (Kalam and Hussain 2003: 3). The private universities are oriented towards more lucrative job-oriented teaching programmes. IR does not figure in their list of priorities. On the other hand, in Pakistan, private universities such as Lahore University of Management Sciences (LUMS) are setting standards higher than those of the state universities. Though its chief mandate was also in the domain of business management studies, the LUMS has over the past few years, established a small, albeit highly reputed social science programme that includes teaching Politics and International Relations. In Nepal, the government remains suspicious, if not apathetic, towards the teaching of IR though its parent discipline—Political Science—flourished after the 1990 peoples’ movement restored democracy and power was transferred to a popularly-elected government.

International Relations in South Asia 7

Academic Community A healthy IR discipline would entail ‘a well-knit national community engaged in effective internal communion’ (Rana and Misra 2004: 111) Though IR scholars interact with each other, there is little evidence to show that ‘they have so far tried cumulatively to build a coherent edifice of work in well defined areas, related to key IR disciplinary concerns and problems in some kind of a dialectical correlation’ (Ibid.). This is true for other South Asian countries as well. Barring Bangladesh, none of the other countries has an effective, functioning professional body of IR scholars. Few (excluding the diasporas) participate in the annual conventions organized by the US-based International Studies Association or the ECPR (European Consortium for Political Research). A new initiative by the Asian Political and International Studies Association (APISA) is beginning to gain ground over the last few years. It organized its first South Asian workshop in 2003 focussing on the theme of ‘IR Theory in South Asia’3 and the third APISA Congress was held in New Delhi in November 2007. Most conferences and seminars in these countries are organized on themes solely at the discretion of the host individual, department or organization, which in turn, are often stand-alone, disparate undertakings rarely going beyond the production of edited volumes. Until recently, collaborative research within the region was virtually non-existent. Fellowships such as the Mahbub Ul Haq Awards for collaborative research for two South Asians from different countries that were instituted by the Regional Centre for Strategic Studies (RCSS) have, however, broken new ground in this direction. This is an excellent initiative that affords a rare opportunity for scholars from different countries to learn from each other and work together. RCSS, a Colombo-based regional organization, was created in 1992 with funding support from the Ford Foundation. Over the years, it has consolidated its position as a visible and active regional institution for research, training and networking, serving a regional and international constituency that is not only growing in size but is also increasingly willing, equipped and prepared to look for new and alternative responses to challenges confronting tomorrow’s South Asia. It is a uniquely South Asian organization that is designed with

8 Navnita Chadha Behera

a South Asian orientation in all its activities and with the faculty and staff drawn from the entire region. The Ford Foundation also helped set up another regional organization, the South Asia Center for Policy Studies (SACEPS) in 1999 that was initially based at New Delhi and later moved to Dhaka, Bangladesh. SACEPS is trying to carve out a niche by adopting a political economy approach to the issues in hand; its driving force was to establish a ‘well conceived, professionally served and economically sustainable regional facility’ to design institutional arrangements for re-accumulating South Asia’s human resources within the region and also, mobilize well-established national institutions to ‘build a shared capacity to service the process of South Asian cooperation’ (Sobhan and Ali 1999: 2–3). The modality of work involves both research and dialogue across the region with a view to drawing in a wider constituency supportive of cooperation in South Asia. Such research institutions are helping the cause of evolving a South Asian academic community though it is important to keep in mind that their institutional outreach extends mainly to think tanks in the region. Significantly, at the last SAARC summit held in New Delhi in 2007, the Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh announced the decision to set up a South Asian university. This initiative would go a long way in laying the foundation of building a South Asian community of scholars.

Publishing Culture/Outlets Journals are the lifeline of a discipline as they provide the most important platform for scholars to debate issues and methodologies and, to that extent, they are the ‘most direct measure of the discipline itself ’ (Waever 1999: 57). In South Asia, more journals are produced by research institutes and think tanks than universities and university journals have a rather poor circulation. For instance, the Jadavpur Journal of International Relations published by the Department of International Relations, Jadavpur University, Kolkata is not available even at the university libraries in New Delhi, nor is the Journal of International Relations published by the Department of International Relations, Dhaka University available in other South Asian capitals such as New Delhi, Kathmandu and Colombo. Another recognized journal of Dhaka University, Theoretical Perspectives: A Journal of Social

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Sciences and Arts that casts its net much wider and even draws its editorial board from the larger South Asian scholarly community is also in a similar situation. International Studies—the flagship journal of the Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi—that was first published in 1959, is an important exception. That is perhaps because it is published by a professional publisher—Sage Publications. This, along with South Asian Survey, another peer-reviewed Sage Journal that publishes International Relations articles, are of the few referred journals in a region which singularly lacks the academic culture of peer review. Journals produced by think tanks such as Strategic Analysis by the Institute of Defence Studies and Analyses (New Delhi); India Quarterly by the Indian Council of World Affairs (New Delhi); Journal of Strategic Studies by Institute of Strategic Studies (Islamabad); IRS Journal by the Institute for Regional Studies (Islamabad); IPRI Journal by the Islamabad Policy Research Institute (Islamabad); BIISS Journal by the Bangladesh Institute of International and Strategic Studies (Dhaka), Ethnic Studies Report by the International Centre for Ethnic Studies (Colombo) mainly, though not exclusively, publish in-house research of their respective faculty members. Also, they remain devoted to publishing policy-relevant research and many of them are not refereed journals.4 There are, of course, publishing outlets available outside South Asia, but scholars from within the region (as distinct from the South Asian diasporas) are able to publish mainly in those journals that exclusively focus on this region. These include Contemporary South Asia (UK) and South Asia: Journal of South Asian Studies (Australia) among others. Their contribution to the mainstream leading American or European journals of IR such as International Studies Quarterly, International Security, International Organization, European Journal of International Relations and Millennium: A Journal of International Relations and even Third World Quarterly remains miniscule. It is important to note, however, that some of the most exciting debates on IR, especially in India, have taken place in non-IR specific sites such as the Economic and Political Weekly (EPW) and Alternatives. EPW is a unique intellectual institution in which debates flourish not only between economists, but also political scientists and IR scholars of various hues and shades. As a sponsor of social research, it has proved to be of critical value for the development of

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the social sciences in India. Alternatives has offered the IR discipline perhaps the single most important non-Western and internationallyacclaimed intellectual site for engaging in IR debates. Rajni Kothari at the Centre for Studies of Developing Societies (CSDS) launched it almost single-handedly in 1975. His first editorial statement for this journal is worth citing: Alternatives was a response to the world is becoming too uniform, too standardized, too dominated by a single conception of life and its meaning, with little scope for other available cultural and historical propensities and potentialities; and that such domination of a single conception has led to political and cultural domination by a single region of the world over all the others. The problem posed by alternatives is philosophical in respect of the validity of diverse worldviews and theoretical paradigms. It questions both the claim to universality of a model of life by virtue of its sheer dominance and the notion of determinacy of the historical or evolutionary process for all regions and all time to come. One ought to value scope for diversity and respect the autonomy and dignity of diverse entities and to that extent stress the pluralist notion, alternatives. (Kothari 1975)

Over the years, it has proved to be a critical intellectual catalyst and has almost become an indispensable institution for leading luminaries from the Western and non-Western world to provide alternative perspectives on international relations.

Career Issues With just one School of International Studies at JNU and a couple of Departments of International Relations—at the Jadavpur University, Kolkata and the Mahatma Gandhi University, Kottayam and Pondicherry University—in India, those trained in the IR discipline have extremely limited career opportunities. The teaching responsibilities both at the college and university levels are very heavy and teachers find little time to pursue their research. Furthermore, the Delhi-centric character of the IR discipline in India has proved to be a serious handicap in its growth. Rana remarks, somewhat ironically, on this mindset in Indian educational planning and funding agencies that ‘since Delhi is the diplomatic capital of India, it must also be the capital, so to speak, of international studies’ (1980: 237). Perhaps

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this also explains the limited (job) mobility and one-way traffic of scholars in this field. Those trained in the capital are not inclined to join regional universities due to their poor resources especially library facilities, while scholars and younger teachers of those universities are unable to pursue research, even if they are interested, because of the dearth of primary and secondary resource materials. (Rana and Misra 2004: 76). New Delhi certainly has most of the best institutions on International Relations in India, but however intensively active they may become, they cannot make a country-wide impact or do justice to the problems of the peripheral regions. Severe shortage of a core faculty of IR also mars the prospects of this discipline in most Pakistani universities. This is mainly due to ‘poor salary, unfriendly academic environment and lack of opportunities for higher education in social sciences’ (Rais 2005: 19). As a result, an overwhelming majority of IR teachers—about 62 in six universities—are without doctoral degrees. There are only 12 teachers who have a doctorate and only seven of them are trained in British or American universities (Ibid.). Most of the better trained teachers prefer to teach abroad or to work with NGOs within Pakistan. In Bangladesh, however, graduates of IR seem to have bright job prospects in foreign missions, inter-governmental organizations (IGOs), banking and financial institutions, non-governmental organizations and various government services (Kalam and Hussain 2003: 3).

Problems of Student Training Disciplinary training also poses problems. Students joining an IR programme in India usually come from other disciplines, whereas in other social sciences such as Economics, History, Psychology, Sociology and even Political Science, students are likely to have graduated in the same discipline. As Bajpai points out: For three years as undergraduates, they are exposed to the problématiques and theory of one or more of these social sciences. At the post-graduate level, their teachers can assume a base-line engagement with the subject consisting of as many as nine or ten courses. In International Relations, this is not possible. (Bajpai 2004: 28)

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There are no undergraduate programmes in IR though Delhi University has, for the first time, introduced an optional paper in International Relations as part of its restructured BA programme in 2005. Otherwise, only those students who pursue a Political Science BA (Honours) programme could take some papers in IR at the undergraduate level. Most students are introduced to International Relations as a separate discipline only at the M.Phil and Ph.D level. Moreover, they often come with a frame of mind imbibed from their teachers in other social sciences that ‘they are coming to an inferior social science’ (Ibid.). If asked why they are switching their field or what they think is the difference between their original discipline and IR, their response frequently is that the latter ‘has no theory’ or it is ‘contemporary’ and therefore, of practical interest, while others believe that reading newspapers with some current affairs magazines is good enough to study this subject. This makes the pedagogic tasks even more difficult. In Pakistan, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka, IR is a very popular subject among students. The BSS Honours programme in IR at the Dhaka University attracts brighter students and the discipline has emerged as one of the top choices for admission seekers. But on the research front, the department fares poorly. Till as late as 2003, it had produced only two M.Phils and no Ph.Ds (Kalam and Hussain 2003: 8–9). That is partly because the department itself can offer little incentive either in terms of research facilities or funding so as to attract full-time research students with professional commitment. There are severe resource constraints including the availability of IR literature and very limited opportunities for internship and/or field visits so that students can equip themselves better in coping with the changing dynamics of international development and dimensions of international behaviour. Likewise, the Department of International Relations in Quaid-i-Azam University in Pakistan selects 50 students from the more than 200 applications it receives. IR is especially very popular among those students who wish to pursue careers in civil services through competitive examinations as it gives them greater depth and exposure and covers a greater variety of subjects than traditional subjects like Political Science and History. However in Pakistan too, colleges affiliated with various universities do not offer IR at the BA level except Sindh University,

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Jamshoro and Shah Abdul Latif University, Khairpur on a limited basis (Rais 2005: 17). The research programmes of most of these universities have not developed. Almost all the IR departments have approved M.Phil and Ph.D programmes but most of them have not been pursuing them with ‘similar consistency, rigor or regularity’. By 2002, only 11 Ph.Ds and 57 M.Phil degrees had been awarded by these universities (Ibid.: 18).

THE PRACTICE OF INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS During the formative years of IR discipline’s growth in India, India’s first Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru had straddled the spheres of policy making as well as intellectual analyses and assessment in external relations so effectively and dominantly that ‘the rest of the power structure and academic circles in India did not see the need to bestir themselves to engage in creating a broad substructure of intellectual and political study and thinking on external relations’ (Dixit 1997: 56). Nehru remained India’s foreign minister for 17 long years and unlike the field of economics, where he constantly drew upon the expertise of economists in planning processes, his extensive knowledge of international affairs resulted in the interest and expertise in foreign relations being concentrated in select ministries especially the Ministry of External Affairs. South Block automatically gained experience and knowledge about different aspects of international relations due to the responsibility entrusted to it. Since no parliamentary group or an intellectual pool of International Relations experts could emerge from the universities and educational institutions, for reasons explained earlier, civil servants emerged as a dominant force—a phenomena that ended up creating a lasting divide between the academia and bureaucracy. Another problem pertains to an iron curtain that divides the foreign policy bureaucracy and academia in every country in South Asia, which live in separate, almost self-contained worlds that operate from fundamentally different information bases. There is no sharing of memory, no reliance on institutional memory and no light thrown on decision-making processes. No government in South Asia respects a freedom of information act; classified documents are never

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made public. So, when the state does make any information available, at its own discretion of course, there is an implicit quid pro quo. ‘Scholars who were overtly critical of the state and its policies might find their access to the state-owned information denied’ making the discipline ‘prone to “colonization” by the state’ (Bajpai 1995: 15).

EPISTEMIC FOUNDATIONS The epistemic foundations of IR in South Asia are on a weak footing as theoretical work remains a much ‘dreaded and despised’ enterprise across the region. This is partly due to ‘the persisting ethnocentrism or Americanocentrism of Western theories that often leads to alienation when its tools prove to be ineffective in understanding the ground realities that are rooted in a very different historical, social and cultural milieu’ (Acharya in this volume). Theorizing has also run aground due to an overwhelming insistence that social science must be relevant though this is not unique to the discipline of IR or to South Asia. ‘Knowledge production,’ Abraham rightly points out, ‘has rarely been able to be truly independent of state needs and demands,’ because the social sciences are primarily ‘valued for their utility; applied knowledge to further state goals. If theory came via this path, so be it . . .’ (2004: 8). Most importantly, there is no singular notion of what constitutes/ qualifies as IR theory. This fundamentally depends upon the conceptual parameters of its epistemological bases and ontological grounding as well as ‘political practices’ of determining what counts as ‘IR theory’. One school of thought argues that all intellectual endeavours situated within the Western systems of thought that seek to apply them ‘creatively’ in their specific local contexts qualify as an exercise in IR theorizing. Arjun Appadurai refers to this process as ‘vernacularization’, by which dominant modes of cultural production are re-inscribed in peripheral contexts where they acquire a new meaning (1996: 110–12). In doing so, it is argued, new knowledge is produced which is enriched and at times, qualitatively transformed by the specificities of their local ground realities and value systems. South Asian scholars in IR have produced a lot of such work defined as ‘exceptionalist’ or ‘subsystemic’ theorizing by Acharya and Buzan

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(forthcoming). This includes the literature on issues such as nuclear deterrence (Singh 1998; Subrahmanyam 1994; Tellis 2001; Basrur 2005; Karnad 2002) or dissenting voices on the nuclear issue (Kothari and Mian 2001; Bidwai and Vanaik 1999; Nizamani 2001); regionalism in South Asia (Gupta 1964; Muni 1980; Wignaraja and Hussain 1989; Khatri 1987; Ghosh 1995; Bhargava et al. 1995) and conflicts and peace processes (Phadnis 1989; Ali 1993; Rupesinghe 1998; Samaddar and Reifeld 2001; Srestha and Uprety 2003; Mohsin 2003) among others. Another genre of writings pertains to country perspectives on global issues like international order (Behera 2005; Bajpai 2003); globalization (Harshe 2004) and international law (Chimni 1993). Some neo-Marxist writings include Dutt’s (1984) formulation of ‘proto second tier imperialism’, Alavi’s (1988) conception of the Muslim salariat and Muslim ethnicity, Harshe’s (1997) work on imperialism and the concepts of internal colonialism (Jahan 1972; Riaz 1994) and the colonial factor in the mode of production (Gardezi 1991). These examples are clearly illustrative, not exhaustive; they do highlight South Asian attempts at theorizing IR though mostly at the sub-systemic level. Critics however point to their limitations, as most such scholarly analyses do not independently decide what to ask and, how to answer. The fundamental problématiques of IR and theoretical frameworks for analysing these are already ‘given’ by the Western theories. The task of scholars is, therefore, mostly confined to collecting relevant empirical data in their respective domestic contexts and, if need be, modify the parameters of their inquiry. But the terms of modification are already decided by Western debates and modelling. This ‘inhibits independent and creative analysis of Asian patterns and trends. Such dependence also means that patterns of interactions in Asia which lie outside of the theoretical debates in the USA or North Atlantic, are seldom recognised or analysed’ (Acharya in this volume). Indeed, recognition of what counts as IR theory raises other serious questions such as who decides what qualifies as ‘sub-systemic’ or ‘systemic’ theorizing. Muni agrees with Cox that ‘theory follows reality’, and Western theories of IR are dominant because they rode on the back of Western (read American) power. Underlining the role of ‘disciplinary gatekeeping practices,’ Tickner notes that ‘IR reinforces analytical

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categories and research programs that are systematically defined by academic communities within the core, and that determine what can be said, how it can be said, and whether or not what is said constitutes a pertinent or important contribution to knowledge’ (2003: 297,300; Aydlini and Matthews 2000). This can be best illustrated with reference to the philosophy and theoretical formulations of nonalignment. Jawaharlal Nehru is widely regarded as the founding father of non-alignment. He conceived it both as a principle—of exercising autonomy in foreign affairs—and as a mechanism or an ‘order-building’ instrument by trying to create a ‘third’ area of peace outside the two power blocs so as to secure a more just and equitable world order. Nehru was joined by other third world leaders including Josip Broz Tito of Yugoslavia and Gamal Abdel Naseer of Egypt. Although dubbed as ‘immoral’ by the then US Secretary of State, John Foster Dulles, non-alignment was never meant to be a moral code of conduct in International Relations. Its essence lay in freedom of exercising options on the basis of perceived national interests. Non-aligned movement created a coalition of more than 100 states from Asia, Africa, Europe, Arab world, Latin America and the Caribbean that supported the decolonization process literally changing the world’s geo-political landscape. Whether conceptualizations of non-alignment qualify as ‘systemic’ IR theory would, however, depend upon the criteria being used. If the criteria is that: ‘it be substantially acknowledged by others in the IR academic community as being theory’ (Acharya and Buzan, forthcoming); it will fail the test. Theoretical writings on non-alignment rarely figured in the core IR journals published from North America and Europe throughout 1950s to 1970s. On the contrary, most dismissed it as ‘variants of neutrality’ (Armstrong 1956–57). Disparaging references to these countries as ‘uncommitted’ or ‘neutral’, questioned non-alignment’s political legitimacy (Debrah 1961; Dinh 1975). Indian scholars had little choice but to write books on non-alignment distributed by Indian publishers (Khan 1981; Jaipal 1983; Bajpai 1985), which probably never found its way to the West, or contribute to journals such as Indian and Foreign Affairs, International Studies, Socialist India, Seminar, Yugoslav Survey, The Indonesian Quarterly, Economic and Political Weekly, Africa Report—most of which are not mainstream journals in IR. So, non-alignment figures on the horizon of IR theory only if we

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were to adopt an alternative set of criteria that: ‘it be self-identified by its creators as being IR theory even if it is not widely acknowledged within the mainstream academic IR community,’ or ‘regardless of what acknowledgement it receives, its construction identifies it as a systematic attempt to generalise about the subject matter of IR’ (Acharya and Buzan, forthcoming). Despite offering an alternative world-view of how the global state system should function, non-alignment was never accorded the status or recognition as a ‘systemic’ IR theory because it did not suit the interests of the powers that be. Likewise, Nehru’s idea of non-exclusionary regionalism (fleshed out in five pan-Asian regional conferences),5 concept of Panchsheel and the Mandala theory of regionalism—none got recognition in the core literature in IR. Exceptions figure only in the case of South Asian scholars based at US or European universities or whose texts have been published and distributed by Western publishing houses. Mohammad Ayoob’s(1995) work on the state making processes in the third world and their security predicament is a case in point though this, too, got recognition largely in the context of the third world. Ashis Nandy’s writings on modernity; Mahbub ul Haq’s work on human development; Stanley Tambiah’s research on ethnicity; and Eqbal Ahmed’s thoughts on the post-colonial state are a few other notable exceptions. It is clearly not easy to move from the domain of ‘particular’ to ‘universal’. Unlike Europe where ‘Western local patterns being turned into (general) International Relations theory (IRT) concepts is common practice’ (Acharya and Buzan, forthcoming), this option is not available to the third world including South Asia. Why? The answer, it is argued, lies in the nature of the disciplinary boundaries of IR theory. That is why the poor state of IR theorizing in South Asia cannot be explained without examining its epistemological bases and parameters. The real story lies in the South Asian IR’s steadfast refusal to critically interrogate the character and ‘efficacy’ of the state system in the region as well as the story of the discipline’s birth inextricably tied together as they stand and, in turn, the state’s complicity in producing and legitimizing a particular set of IR discourses. A subconscious albeit complete internalization of the tenets, philosophical ethos and legitimacy of political realism, especially its notion of statecentric power politics, in its mental structures has tremendously

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stifled the scope of their intellectual inquiries. For analytical purposes, this may be termed as traditional IR. Its fundamental failure to historicise the Westphalian state does not allow recognition that the neorealist notion of state is that of a European nationstate while ground realities at home as indeed in most of the Third World are radically different—an issue we will shortly revert to. Characterizing it as ‘theoretical bedrock’ of much of Indian IR, Rana and Misra point out that this has never been ‘an explicitly selfconscious activity [but] more the result of scholars being overly impressed and influenced by state practice . . . [Even] the idea of change echoes state practice. The state is concerned about . . . Realist expedients to effect change, not for change which attempts to transcend Realist premises’ (2004: 79). There has been no systematic questioning of the positivist logic underlying the realist paradigm. The third debate in IR is, by and large, eclipsed in the (South Asian) traditional IR. So, to do ‘theory’ remains essentially a positivist enterprise and creation of knowledge has relied on four main assumptions: ‘a belief in the unity of science; distinction between facts and values, with facts being neutral between theories; the social world like the natural world has regularities, and these can be ‘discovered’ by our theories; and the way to determine the truth of these statements is by appeal to these neutral facts’ (Smith 2001: 227). Positivism’s rationale that ‘scientific knowledge was the only certain knowledge—and therefore, the preferred form of knowledge’ had created ‘the climate for a new social engineering impulse built on an American exceptionalism although this was inevitably posited in the framework of universalism’ (Ross cited in Mallavarapu, 2004: 10). The discipline of IR has been least self-conscious about its axiomatic claims to modernity. The term ‘modernity’, as used here, distinguishes between its chronological dimensions—modernity being the historical legacy of the Enlightenment era and IR, in turn, being a product of modernity—and the ‘project of modernity’ pertaining to its value-system including Cartesian dualisms between subject and object, reasons and tradition, instrumental rationality and teleologies of scientific progress, with which we are primarily concerned (Davetak 1995: 27–28; Osborne 1992). Walker strongly critiques modernity in IR as it ‘ensconces itself in the theory of Political Realism’ for perpetuating the presumed impossibility of ever

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conceiving an alternative to the account of political community that emerged in early modern Europe (Walker 1993: 17). The lacuna in such ‘problem-solving theory’ as Cox (1986) terms it, is that it takes the world as it finds it, with the prevailing social and power relationships and the institutions into which they are organized, as the given framework for action. The effect then is to ‘reify’ and ‘legitimize’ the existing order and make it appear natural. The choice of how to theorize or to privilege a particular theoretical explanation is not a value-neutral decision; most often, it is influenced by political considerations as explained earlier with reference to non-alignment. Traditional IR has, however, eschewed any serious debate on the politics of knowledge perhaps driven by the positivist logic that knowledge is immune from the workings of power. The theoretical endeavours of South Asian IR are hemmed in by three sets of ‘givens’—the infallibility of their respective states modelled after the Westphalian nation-state; a thorough internalization of the philosophy of political realism; and a ‘positive’ faith in the wisdom of modernity. Bounded by these limiting assumptions, the terrain of traditional IR stands severely depleted as it has also impeded its undertakings in theorizing IR. Using Pierre Macherey’s formula for the interpretation of ideology, Gayatri Spivak notes that ‘what is important in a work is what it does not say. This is not the same as a careless notation [but] “what it refuses to say,”’ (Spivak 2000: 1445). Undertaking such an exercise in ‘measuring silences, whether acknowledged or unacknowledged’ (Ibid.) in South Asian IR, is an eye opener because it exposes the enormous discursive power exercised by the rational and scientific ‘project of modernity’ in laying down the parameters of what belonged to the domain of IR and what did not and how to determine that, or perhaps, who determined that.

‘SILENCES’ OF SOUTH ASIAN IR Knowledge creation enterprise in IR is underpinned by two critical unstated assumptions: theorizing in IR means producing scientific knowledge; and ‘Europe [later America] remains the covering, theoretical subject of all histories [read IR], including the ones we call “Indian”, “Chinese”, “Korean”, and so on’ (Chakrabarty 2000: 1491).

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With its constitutive ideas and practices rooted in the Eurocentric experiences and an abiding faith in the ‘liberating power of reason (logos) as it threw off the shackles of traditions (mythos)’ (Davetak 1995: 31), the domain of IR was bounded in a manner that South Asia’s various ‘traditional pasts’ got delegitimized as a possible source of knowledge creation in IR. A positivist enterprise precluded a debate about what issues of inquiry could be included in IR and how its key concepts of nation-state, nationalism, sovereignty and territoriality could acquire different meanings. This may be briefly explained with reference to Indian and Pakistani notions of nationalism. Several conceptualizations and critiques of nationalism by Mahatma Gandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru, Rabindranath Tagore, M.S. Golwalkar, V.D. Savarkar, Bankim Chandra Chatterjee, Sri Aurobindo Ghosh were at play in the political arena in pre-independence India. Most of these were not territorial in their vision nor conceptualized in rationalist terms as understood in the modern instrumental sense. Ghosh wrote: ‘For what is a nation? What is our mother country? It is not a piece of earth, nor a figure of speech, nor a fiction of the mind. It is a mighty Shakti, [power] composed of all the Shaktis of all the millions of units that make up the nation . . .’ (cited in Singh 1967: 70–71). He looked upon India as a living and pulsating spiritual entity and nationalism was envisioned as a ‘deep and fervent religious sadhana,’ a spiritual imperative essential for the emancipation of the motherland from the colonial rule (Ibid.: 74). Savarkar argued that the Hindus ‘are not only a nation but race-jati. The word jati, derived from the root jan, to produce, means a brotherhood, a race determined by a common origin, possessing a common blood’ (1969: 84–85). He rejected the idea of a nation-state based on an abstract social contract with individualized citizens dwelling within its administrative frontiers. From a very different vantage point, the Gujrati text of Gandhi’s Hind Swaraj makes a significant distinction between a genuine nation formed as praja (community) and a nation of individuals merely held together by state power characterized as rashtra (Gier 1996: 267). A most powerful critique of nationalism came from Tagore: ‘What is a Nation? It is the aspect of a whole people as an organised power. This organisation incessantly keeps up the insistence of the population on becoming strong and efficient. But this strenuous effort after strength and efficiency drains man’s energy from his higher nature where he

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is self-sacrificing and creative. For thereby man’s power of sacrifice is diverted from his ultimate object, which is moral, to the maintenance of this organisation, which is mechanical’ (2002). Thus, nation ‘controls the life of the individual insofar as the needs of the State or Nation make it necessary’ (cited in Fenn Jr. 1929: 321). Traditional IR does not debate the philosophical underpinnings, political strategies and goals of these diverse conceptualizations of nationalism nor are India’s historical traditions and political philosophy taught as part of the IR syllabi. Such silences are difficult to explain unless it may be argued that these problématiques do not belong to the domain of IR because many of these ideas especially the spiritual connotations of nationalism could be dubbed as metaphysical formulations that has no place in the rational and scientific world of IR and dismissed. This illustrates the ‘epistemic violence’, to borrow a term from Gayatri Spivak, of political realism (Spivak 2000: 1438–39). ‘The episteme,’ Spivak quotes Foucault to point out, ‘is the “apparatus” which makes possible the separation not of the true from the false, but of what may not be characterized as scientific’ (Ibid.: 1459). A positivist enterprise deploys this kind of ‘apparatus’ to exclude various understandings of Indian nationalism from the domain of IR. Significantly, empiricism of a positivist IR takes a back seat because whether Indians conceptualized nationalisms in different ways as a matter of ‘historical fact’ is of little consequence. What matters is that the spiritual notions of nationalism cannot become part of a scientific, realist IR. The exercise of what is ‘excluded’ cannot be fully understood without understanding what is ‘included’. Political realism recognizes only one kind of nationalism a la European style that led to the creation of modern nation-state, which provides the bases of the IR discipline. In order to understand the historical trajectory of why and how this kind of nationalism came to totally dominate the vision of Indian IR, we turn our attention to Nehru because he was the principal political architect of the Indian state. Nationalism, for Nehru, had an instrumental value whose chief objective was to create a sovereign national state and that is how nationalism was firmly situated ‘within the domain of a state ideology’ (Chatterjee 1985: 132). The creation of a sovereign Indian state in 1947 marks a critical historical juncture in terms of the (Indian) state taking sides and

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lending its weight in the battle of ideas such as competing notions of nationalism, tradition and science and material interests and spirituality as well as how it impacted, and in turn, was ‘read’ by different social sciences. This may be analysed from various standpoints. First, Nehru’s modernist nationalism had won in 1947 and shaped India’s political character thereafter. All ‘older’ conceptualizations of nationalism were now of ‘historical interest’; left to historians to debate. Even when they acquired a new life, say Hindu nationalism, in the late 1980s or new—sub-national—nationalisms such as Naga, Assamese, Sikh or Kashmiri nationalisms were born, they became a subject-matter of Indian politics. With their battleground being inside the state, they were of little interest to IR except when they challenged India’s territorial integrity. The story of Pakistani nationalism which, for the most part, evolved in juxtaposition to Indian nationalism, also followed a similar trajectory. Those demanding Pakistan had also rejected the notion of territorial nationalism, claiming that Islam transcended narrow ethnic and lingual differences. Allama Mohammad Iqbal, the poet-philosopher who had first proposed the idea of Pakistan in 1930, believed that ‘it is not the unity of language or country or the identity of economic interests that constitutes the basic principle of our nationality. . . . We are members of the society founded by the Prophet (PBUH)’ (Vahid 1964: 396). Paradoxically, it was opposed by many ulema who thought that Muslim nationalism was unIslamic. Followers of the Deoband movement who had sought to sustain their religion and culture apart from the colonial state could not reconcile territorial nationalism with concern for the solidarity of the worldwide Muslim community, the umma. Maulana Abdul Ali Maududi—the most influential exponent of Islamic nationalism in the post-1947 Pakistan—had unequivocally opposed the campaign for Pakistan as it was based on secular notion of nationalism. He had then insisted that ‘in the sight of God, Muslim nationalism is just as cursed as Indian nationalism’ (cited in Syed 1982: 35). The ulema had, in fact, backed the Unionist Party in Punjab that opposed India’s partition and Muslim League’s mobilization of masses was ‘religiously mediated by the Sufi pirs rather than the ulema’ (Talbot 2003: 76). Mohammad Ali Jinnah’s conceptualization of Pakistan being ‘spatial, based on minority rights and defined in relation to the Hindu

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majority’ was significantly different” (Rais 2003b: 3). Since the first two formulations were at odds with the demand for a sovereign state of Pakistan, it was Jinnah’s territorial notion of Pakistani nationalism that was instrumental in the creation of Pakistan in 1947. Unlike India, however, where the Hindu nationalists could not dislodge Nehru’s idea of modernist nationalism; in Pakistan, the issue of Islamic ideology, its meaning and content and the relationship between Islam and state has never been adequately resolved though the Islamist worldview has, over the years, become the dominant strand (Syed 1982; Waseem 1985; Haqqani 2005). In the public discourses and especially the school and college textbooks in Pakistan, Jinnah’s modernist notion of Pakistani nationalism stands all but eclipsed. His famous speech to the Pakistan’s Constituent Assembly on 11 August 1947 where he espoused a secular notion of Pakistani nationalism: ‘You are free, you are free to go to your temples, you are free to go to your mosques or to any other places of worship in this state of Pakistan. You may belong to any religion or caste or creed—that has nothing to do with the business of the state’ is notably omitted from nearly all textbooks on Pakistan’s history and polity (as cited in Hoodbhoy 1986: 170). Not only do the students of IR in Pakistan learn nothing about them, these issues, unlike in India, are not even debated in the disciplinary domain of Political Science. Most Pakistani textbooks offer a monolithic construction of the ideology of Pakistan which broadly implies: Islam is the basis of nationhood in Pakistan; the sole purpose of Pakistan was to create conditions for living according to the Islamic values; and Islam must be accepted as the supreme guiding principle of the state (Nayyar and Salim 2004; Behera 1996; Aziz 1993). Alongside pan-Muslim nationalism, alternative conceptualization of nationalisms on ethnic—the Pakhtun—and linguistic—Bengali— basis were also at play in the areas that later formed Pakistan. The people of North-West Frontier Province (NWFP) demanded Pakhtunistan, which envisaged Pathans and Punjabis as ‘two major nations by any definition or test of a nation’ and argued that ‘the very thought of grouping the NWFP with the Punjabis [was] revolting to the Pathan mind.’ In East Bengal, Abdul Mansur Ahmad, the President of the Bengal Muslim League, had declared in 1944 that ‘religion and culture are not the same thing. Religion transgresses

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the geographical boundary but tamaddum (culture) cannot go beyond the geographical boundary.. . For this reason the people of Purba (Eastern) Pakistan are a different nation . . . from the “religious brothers” of Pakistan’ (Talbot 2003: 83). After the creation of Pakistan in 1947, however, the stories of all such competing nationalisms were consigned to the dustbin of history. Successive rulers of Pakistan including Jinnah sought to build a ‘strong state’ based on the principle of ‘one nation, one culture and one language’. Hence, provincial mobilization of any ethnic identities were not only denounced as a threat to the Pakistani state but in the academia, students of Political Science and IR have not been equipped with the tools of understanding the political pluralities of their social system they experience on a day-to-day basis, which in turn, creates a disjuncture between their theoretical frameworks and ground realities. Overall, the disciplinary character of Indian or Pakistani IR cannot be understood without a thorough examination of their umbilical relationship with their respective states, born as they both were in August 1947. Unlike other social sciences, which study their ‘traditional pasts’ to understand their respective notions of the ‘Present’ and as a legitimate source of learning, IR takes the state as a given starting point of all its scholarly endeavours. It has ‘no pasts’ to look into because they have been discredited or rendered irrelevant. Following the footsteps—metaphorically and substantively—of its ‘Master Creator’ (read Western IR) wherein ‘the realist power ritual administers “silence regarding the historicity of the boundaries it produces, the space it historically clears and the subjects it historically constitutes”’ (Ashley cited in Tickner 2003: 300), the Indian/ Pakistani IR have also shied away from critically interrogating the story of their birth. Unless they were to do so, they cannot come to terms with exclusions that have long been taken for granted, accepted and internalized even as they have denuded its intellectual terrain.

INTERROGATING THE STATE AND ITS SECURITY DILEMMAS Realism’s main propositions that broadly constitute the subject matter of IR are: states are the primary actors; domestic and international

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politics abide by distinct logics; developments ‘inside’ the state do not concern IR and the problématique of ‘outside’ is defined in terms of anarchy. In other words, there is no need to critically analyse the political character of the state because IR is mainly concerned with power struggles among states. This is deeply problematic chiefly because the neo-realist notion of the state is essentially drawn from the European context that included more or less homogeneous populations; unquestioned loyalty and/or the habitual obedience of its ‘citizens’; the consolidation and legitimacy of state institutions and fixed and legitimized territorial boundaries. South Asian states, on the other hand, are mostly characterized by the lack of unconditional legitimacy for state boundaries, state institutions and regimes; inadequate societal cohesion; and the absence of societal consensus on fundamental issues of social, economic and political organisation—are radically different (Ayoob 1995: 28). This formulation also lacks a historical contextualization because it ignores the fact that the contemporary state system is a modern invention. For a large part of our history, humanity has existed without states in the sense of territorially defined, exclusive political identities which claim the monopoly of legitimate force (Dalby 1992: 102). However, students of IR in South Asia do not learn about the ontological origins of their respective states in terms of the social and political formations in the pre-colonial period that would show that the state is not a reified ‘given’ but a ‘historical product’. And, that too of a particular kind because it followed a different trajectory of experiencing the colonial rule, which is why it is intrinsically different from that of the historical Westphalian state (Quayes in this volume) that ubiquitously forms the bases of all realist analysis in IR. It is important to know that political allegiance to territorial states was a tenuous affair under traditional conditions in India. Political rulers changed frequently and kingdoms and empires constantly collided and expanded at each other’s expense so that a group of people inhabiting a particular space could be part of different kingdoms in a short space of time (Kaviraj 1995: 116). ‘The ease with which such political inclusion could be achieved also made such allegiance rather slight in contrast to modern practices. . . . It was in that sense impossible to achieve the kind of firm identification between people and a form of politicized space which is presupposed

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in the political ontology of the modern nation-state’ (Ibid.). Within a kingdom, the king, a divine power whose rule was legitimized by the spiritual sanction of religion, exercised political authority. The office of kingship was hereditary and people rendered loyal homage to the king-emperor—Ram, Ashoka or Akbar—who was the supreme authority. The relationship between a collective identity and the state was structured within the framework of a layered sovereignty. Political authority and control tended to be dispersed and distributed between various levels of authority: vassal states, regional kingdoms and empires, as distinct from a centralized political unity of the modern sovereign state. So, the regional kingdoms co-existed alongside the symbols of a central, all-Indian power of, say, the subcontinental Mauryan and Mughal empires. On one hand, it created a fluid and malleable political system with constantly changing political status and loyalties of kingdoms, and, on the other, the state or its upper layers had little direct interaction or control over the collective identities at the grass-roots level. This had an important implication that ‘while the state enjoyed great ceremonial eminence, in fact, it had limited powers to interfere with the internal organization of the social segments. The conceptual language of acting “on behalf ” of the society as a whole was unavailable to this state.’6 This was radically transformed under the colonial rule, which not only produced an image of India as a geographic and demographic entity, but also historically transformed the nature and form of political authority in a fundamental and irreversible manner. With the passage of time, the British centralized the administration of the subcontinent and imposed political unity, thus creating a unitary, sovereign state. ‘It ruptured the old, indigenous and creative mechanisms of compromise and collaboration’ between various identities and the political authority, ‘creating a wide unbridgeable gap between the integrative institutions of the colonial state and the complex mosaic of social and cultural diversities within Indian society’ (Jalal 1995: 9–10). The nationalist consciousness of the nineteenth century did not question or attempt to radically transform the colonial state. The dominant argument was that the British rule was alien and unrepresentative, and hence the demand for an independent state representing Indian nationalism. The logic of a modern state representing one nation, or of transferring the responsibility of managing

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social relations among individuals and collective identities from indigenous social regulatory mechanisms to the state, was not questioned. As argued earlier, the political leadership of modern India led by Nehru as well as Jinnah in Pakistan perceived the state as the prime mover, the key repository of political power that would act as an agency of collectively-intended social change. By understanding the state as a given and unproblematic entity that is ‘prior to’ all intellectual inquiries in IR, scholars in South Asia have refused to rethink the rationale of the state and contend with the possibility that their security dilemmas are linked to the very character of these states in the region. This is mainly because this proposition demolishes the core thesis of neorealist paradigm, which attributes the security dilemma of the states to prevailing anarchy in the international domain. ‘Conceptual bifurcation of anarchy (international) and hierarchy (domestic),’ in neorealism ‘is based on the original Hobbesian thinking and makes no provision for internal security complexes’ (Chatterjee in this volume). The domestic is conceptualized as the sphere of freedom under the complete supervision of a legitimate authority. Neorealist analysis does not give an account of ‘how that authority is constituted, its condition of legitimacy, and the implications of the diverse contestations of identities that might conspire to fragment the state, thereby posing a threat to the state security’ (Ibid.). While focussing our gaze on the ‘inside’ that is, the political character of the state, it is important not to fall into the trap of ‘security orientalism’. This is done by pitting the post-colonial experiences against ‘true’ Western forms of statehood. Nizamani explains this with reference to Barry Buzan and Kal Hosti’s works which conceptualize the international system in terms of ‘strong and weak states’ where peace prevails in the former and the latter is the venue of societal disintegration and warfare. The Third World states’ security dilemma is attributed to their ‘weakness’. The yardstick of ‘weakness’ is, however, firmly fixed with reference to ‘assumed practices of the contemporary Western states whereby the more striking the differences are, the weaker the state is. Hence the difference itself becomes an explanation.’ In defining a ‘weak state’, these scholars also tend to ‘mix cause with effect’, for example, ‘a weak state is where the question of legitimate use of force is unresolved (an effect); and

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the colonial demarcation of boundaries is to be blamed for a number of problems faced by these states (a cause). This is characterized as an ‘epistemology of security orientalism’ that juxtaposes the ‘mature West with the infantile non-West and subordinates the latter into a perpetual contrast with the former’ (Nizamani in this volume). So, the Pakistani or for that matter, Nepalese state acts the way it does because it is weak and its weakness is based upon its differences with the strong West. Ayoob seeks to explain the security predicament of Third World states by focussing attention on the question of the evolution of modern nation-state. European states had taken anywhere between four to seven centuries to emerge as full-fledged national states. Third World countries, he argues, are expected to complete this process in just a few decades and that too, by simultaneously undertaking all the stages of nation-state building that includes ‘standardisation, penetration, participation and distribution with all its inherently contradictory pulls and pressures’ (1995: 29). As a result, many Third World states with highly plural and diverse societies are not yet politically and socially cohesive units. While the consolidation of the modern state in the West had meant that the internal dimension of its security was effectively resolved, in the Third World, it must be accorded equal, if not greater weight. This argument is, however, not taken to its logical conclusion. If the concept of security is intimately linked with the processes of state formation, it lends itself to another question: What kind of state? Here, Ayoob’s view of state-making ‘as a linear process that can be compressed or extended, but which has only one outcome, implying that the Third World states have no choice but to emulate the Westphalian model of modern nation-state is problematic’ (Krause 1998: 132). This means that not only is the state the only referent object of security but there is also only one kind of state—the Westphalian State. State formation processes in the Third World, as explained earlier, have been radically different not only because of the limited time frame in which the latter has to complete the process, but also due to their intrinsically different historical experiences of colonial rule; traditional social and political formations and a qualitatively different nature of political authority in the pre-colonial period. These could plausibly result in different kinds of state making outcomes.

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The problem lies in accepting that state making has a definable, predetermined end point—the nation-state. This not only conceals massive differences in the historical trajectories of states and regions in the Third World, but has also created havoc in the lives of their populations. South Asian states do not have the kind of European nation-state that is assumed to be given and the internal vulnerabilities of the state and the insecurities of its people are often rooted in the very processes of emulating a particular kind of state, a model of the Westphalian state denoting a unified, indivisible sovereign state with centralized political authority. The Western nation-state, as pointed out earlier, had emerged within the largely homogeneous societies of Europe. A mechanical application of the nation-state idea with its monolithic credo and unitary state structures, on the deeply multicultural societies of the South Asia was structurally flawed. The whole process negated the diversity, humaneness and freedom that were fundamental to their cultures. Trying to manage and enforce ideological and political conformity on the sub-nationalities in the interest of the nation-state, sought to ‘impose a monolithness and homogenisation that were alien and alienating’ (Wignaraja 1993: 27). The modern nation-state allows recognition of a single, presumably unified nation. This principle applied to a plural society, especially when governed through electoral democracy, is inherently problematic. The single nation tends to be identified with the dominant majority, with the state being the sole depository of political power, exercised by the ‘majority’ while minority communities tend to feel alienated and marginalized. Those left out seek to construct their own identity and create alternative spaces within or without existing state boundaries. At the core of such ethno-political conflicts are issues about state power and the distribution of economic and other material resources (Uyangoda in this volume). The settlement of these conflicts is a political process of negotiating how to radically alter the way in which the state power is organized and distributed. Uyangoda explains this in the context of the Sri Lankan conflict whose defining characteristic has been the political incommensurability of Sinhalese and Tamil nation projects. One major reason for this is the Sinhalese nationalist commitment to maintaining Sri Lankan state in the old centralized

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and unitary form. The Sinhalese ideological construction of the Sri Lankan state is driven by the powerful idea of Sri Lanka being ‘our land’, ape rata. This ‘territorial possessionist idiom in the Sinhalese political discourse implies a condition of social appropriation of the state which is mediated by ideology,’ and it also refers to a ‘collective self-understanding of a polity—a polity of “ours” and not of an “other”’.7 Sinhala nationalism in this sense, is also an exclusionary ideology, the central question of which is: How can ‘our’ state power be shared with an ethnic ‘other’. Although there exist revisionist versions of unitarism, devolution of power for example, the hegemonic logic of mono-ethnicity has taken deep roots in the political thinking among Sinhalese as well as Tamil nationalist forces (Uyangoda in this volume). They have struggled to exist in one nation-state, without being able to reconcile each other’s political claims to statehood in a praxis of cooperation. Consequently, they have found themselves locked in a self-destructive war for nearly two decades. This, in a way, represents a key political dimension of the intractability of Sri Lanka’s ethnic conflict. The story is no different for ‘other nation-states of South Asia where, “Muslim Pakistan”, “Hindu India”, “Muslim Bangladesh”, and “Hindu Nepal”, all suggest the simultaneous organization of the majority community and nation-state, albeit in each case in the manner defined by the dominant social forces’ (Ahmed 1998: 15). And, as a result, almost every state in South Asia has been confronted with broadly similar challenges to centralized authority, and no less important, to the hegemonic discourse revolving around the nation-state. The observation Hamza Alavi made two decades ago about Pakistan can thus be readily extended to the rest of the subcontinent: The . . . outstanding fact about Pakistan’s political history is that the most powerful challenges to the dominant central authority. . . came primarily from political movements that draw the strength from people of underprivileged region and voiced demands for regional autonomy and for a fuller share . . . in the distribution of resources, as well as in the state power. (Alavi 1972: 72)

Indeed the national question is the driving force behind most separatist and secessionist movements—Kashmiri, Assamese, Tamil, Sikh,

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Baloch, Chakma—which might otherwise differ in character, support base and dynamics, but share in common an uncompromising opposition to the centralized political authority and unequivocal rejection of the legitimacy of the nation-state as presently constituted. That is why ‘politically credible explorations into real possibilities of ethnic conflict resolution require a new shift in politics, in the direction of de-ethnicizing’, in the long-run, the way in which ‘political futures of ethnic communities are conceptualized’ (Uyangoda in this volume). Although ethno-nationalist political projects can highlight in great measure ethnic grievances and injustices, he explains, ‘rarely can they offer democratically emancipatory solutions mainly due to the majoritarianist desire inherent in minoritarian nationalist projects.’ Minoritarian nationalisms in multination states have generally demonstrated a tendency for imagining their political futures in the master image of the existing nationstate against which they have even waged a secessionist war. For the Tamil Tigers, the Tamil nation must seek its ultimate fulfillment, or self-expression, in a territorially demarcated state of Tamil Eelam. Likewise, the ultimate goal of the Kashmiri militants demanding azadi remains an independent state of Jammu & Kashmir. But without questioning the basic logic of the modern nation-state, they merely reproduce the hierarchical social and political conditions from which they seek to escape and develop state structures with strong unitarian and monolithic overtones. Uyangoda points to the paradox of minoritarian emancipatory politics. The minoritarian projects are usually uni-ethnic in relation to state power. As it often happens, the oppressed national minority today awaits to transform itself into a regional majority tomorrow. They imagine ‘national liberation’ primarily as equal to the task of establishing ‘national sovereignty’ and not political democracy. For example, the appropriation of the autonomous status of the state of Jammu & Kashmir (J&K), granted by Article 370 of the Indian Constitution, by the interventionist and centralized state structures alienated the Kashmiris. But while fighting those integrative pressures, they replicated the same unitary power structures within the state of J&K, thus alienating the people of Jammu and Ladakh (Behera 2000). That is why ethnic conflicts demand democratic solutions and not retreat to ethnic reconstitution of the post-conflict

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political community. ‘Democratization of the political community, pluralization of the state and sharing of sovereignty’, Uyangoda (in this volume) argues, are three programmatic goals around which non-ethnic solutions to ethnic problems could be imagined and worked out.’ The important lesson to learn is that the state in the South Asian context, cannot be treated as a monolithic, unitary and individualized unit of analysis, but is itself a ‘site of contestations’ among several contending social and political communities. The key issue of inquiry for an IR analyst, therefore, is not how to replicate (read copy) a Westphalian-style nation-state that has everywhere rendered its populace more insecure (than secure), but it is how to rethink the ideology, the rationale and the form of the state, so as to create one that is better suited to South Asian ground social realities, and inspired by local knowledge systems. To recapitulate our argument thus far, the value-system, foundational knowledge-claims, fixed parameters and universal theories of the ‘project of modernity’ have all together turned it into a hegemonic project which lays down that the Master Narrative of IR has already been accomplished in ‘Europe’ (later, America), and the rest of the world merely serves as a ground for its application. What is needed then is to create alternative sites of knowledge construction. These may be explored by using different vantage points including that of post-colonialism, hermeneutics, development theory, critical theory and feminism, all of which are broadly positioned in the postpositivist domain of IR. There are differences among the post-positivists but they all agree that the positivist ideal is ‘methodologically unworkable and normatively dangerous’ (Lapid 1989: 236). They pay more attention to ontology while also recognizing the normative content and orientation of the discipline. ‘Ontologies are sets of shared meanings, which come to define reality’ (Sinclair 1996: 9). The state, for instance, ‘is an historical example of an intersubjectively constituted entity created by collective human response to material conditions. This and other inter-subjectively constituted entities constitute a prevailing ontology’ (Ibid.). Understanding ontology is very important because ‘theory is always for someone and for some purpose’ (Cox 1986: 207). Theories understand and explain the world from specific social and

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political positions and these cannot be ‘divorced from a standpoint in time and space’ (Ibid.). Foucault insists that power, in fact, produces knowledge. All power requires knowledge and all knowledge relies on and reinforces existing power relations. According to Foucault: Knowledge are connected to the grid of power in such a way that the regime of truth functions in a given society validating certain discourses or bodies of knowledge as ‘true knowledge’. This legitimated body of knowledge ‘becomes the basis of policy formation’ while another ‘whole set of knowledge’ is being considered as ‘suspect, discredited, excluded, and disqualified’. (Cited in Dubois 1991: 7)

Sociological reflexivity and geo-cultural reflexivity should, therefore, be integral to any knowledge-building enterprise. Contributors to this volume share this spirit in analysing the diverse problematiques of state, security and larger disciplinary issues of IR from different theoretical perspectives. A brief overview of the volume makes this clear.

OVERVIEW OF THE VOLUME Jayadeva Uyangoda’s article suggests ‘reworking the associational basis of the state’ so that it provides the ethnic communities a mutuallyagreed ground for sustainable cooperation where all of them treat each other as political communities of equal worth. Equality, not hierarchy, of worth is the underlying ethical principle. A failed majoritarian state, he argues, cannot be a model for any non-majority ethnic community in search of recognition, equality and self-determination. That is why, makers of Sri Lanka’s new constitution need to be sensitive to this particular aspect of the historical experiences of the Sri Lankan Tamil people. Since they have been victims of an institutionalized liberal democracy of a particular kind, inter-community reconciliation in Sri Lanka cannot be sustained without constitutionally-entrenched safeguards against majoritarianism. Accordingly, the state re-making project should be developed in a manner that the postethnic conflict state should be endowed with structural flexibility and capacity for reform whenever ethnic grievances expose the inadequacy of the existing political order in constructively mediating in inter-community as well as state-community conflicts. What is

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needed, therefore, is a periodic reinvention of the state as a political association. Mijarul Quayes deploys theoretical tools of the post-colonial theory that provide an escape from the Euro-centric intellectual trap in reflecting upon the future directions of the Westphalian state in South Asia, which he argues, lie in its past, more specifically in the flawed birth of the ‘nation states’ of South Asia. Owing to their colonial experiences, these were laden with the succession of state personality of the colonial state. That is perhaps why the state is irrelevant for the majority of the people it represents. The precolonial realities, including subaltern realities in the region, the article argues, need to connect to present day political realities for people to exercise choices. Instead of a sovereign superstructure for a state, South Asia’s political evolution needed to evolve through the empowerment of citizens, within inclusive communities. Quayes draws upon Rabindranath Tagore’s notion of the puro samaj or civic society, meaning community to argue that the State would fit only as a flexible superstructure, with a window providing a two-way interface with these communities. Ganga Thapa’s article explains the Maoist insurgency as having exacerbated the Nepalese crisis of democracy though its roots are traced to the early 1990s. Despite a successful pro-democracy movement resulting in a smooth transfer of power from authoritarianism to a democratically-elected parliament, the article argues that the rules of democratic game were increasingly thwarted due to lack of democratic traditions, an established party system and an interventionist monarchy. He underlines the necessity for restructuring the power mechanisms because the main fault line for instability in the Nepalese system are the fissures caused by those who wish to acquire or preserve their stake in the state’s power structures. Shibashish Chatterjee draws upon the constructivist formulations regarding the unpacking of the state and the mutability of state interaction that lend it sufficient flexibility to account for variations in any given relationship. The neorealist analyses have inherent limitations in explaining the internal dimensions of a state’s security dilemma. He uses the constructivist approach to question the proposition that the external security dilemma of a state is exogenously determined by the anarchical structure of the international system. The hostility

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between India and Pakistan, the article points out, is neither historical nor predetermined, but a result of a certain ‘cultural’ interpretation of their origins that makes it difficult to build their ties on the basis of self-reflection and toleration of the other. India and Pakistan have become enemies by the nature of definition of their mutual threats rooted in their mutually exclusive nation-building strategies. Thus, the paradox of a territorialized state identity not reconciled with the idea of a common cultural past is constitutive of the enmity and hostility between India and Pakistan rather than any mechanical product of an invariant anarchical structure. Varun Sahni differs. He argues that India’s external security policy has always operated in a context of structural constraints that have restricted its efficacy. The neorealist and constructivist approaches are deployed in this article as well to examine the agent-structure problem in international relations. It focusses on four issue-areas— nuclear deterrence, military industry, maritime security and border management—of India’s external security policy and argues that the relative salience of policy initiatives and structural constraints alters depending upon the issue at stake. The article concludes that while structural constraints have restricted the growth of India’s military industry, there is ample scope of innovative policy to overcome structural rigidities by altering the incentive structure for India’s neighbours in the case of border management, nuclear deterrence and regional security policy. Ayesha Siddiqa’s article also seeks to alter the security calculus of Pakistan albeit within the parameters of the neorealist paradigm. She draws upon the principle of the conservative-rationalist approach that essentially uses a holistic view of national strategy and national security. Referring to Pakistan’s India-centric security dilemma, the article argues that military competition in a traditional security paradigm has been central to Pakistan’s strategic debates and that it has pursued an offensive war strategy, which by striking a decisive or a forceful tactical blow hopes to force the adversary to concede strategically. Siddiqua advocates the concept of a non-offensive defence both as a better method of guaranteeing its territorial integrity as well as to allow Pakistan to concentrate on a more comprehensive mechanism of security including social, economic and human security.

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Neera Chandhoke’s contribution emphasizes the non-traditional dimensions of security. She argues that the concept of security has shifted from being a property of inter-state relations, to being a property of the relationship between states and the citizens. The state is obliged to institute security because we have rights and rights compel obligations on the part of the state. Security is, thus, a companion concept to human rights. While this formulation asserts the priority principle of rights, it acknowledges that rights can prove meaningless without security. In the South Asian context, Chandhoke suggests that people will be secure only when their right to physical integrity, basic needs and cultural communities are upheld and therefore, the concept of security should build on that of rights, instead of replacing the language of rights or seeking to subsume it. Anand Aditya dwells on the human insecurities in the South Asian region from a different vantage point of structural conflicts, which are likely to develop into more serious and recurring structural insecurities with deleterious impact on the state system. He brings the state ‘back’ in, by identifying three types of stakes in security— existential stake related to a state’s survival; process stake bearing upon broadening and deepening of democratization; and teleological stake related to sustained growth and development. But since security is a critical foundation for sustainable development and poverty and insecurity systematically tends to reinforce each other, security becomes the first prerequisite to the attainment of any one of these three objectives. Aditya argues in favour of involving the government, professionals and the community in a three-track strategy for restructuring the role and perception of security in the region. Mangalika de Silva, on the other hand, targets the state and community for colluding in organizing hegemonic regimes of security, marginality and power. She argues that the political in the sovereign exercise of power implies that the sovereign only creates a political community by identifying ‘enemies’ and reconciling His citizens through the exclusion of the Other. By narrating the story of Sriyalatha, a socially-marginalized Tamil sex worker who was brutalized by the state for mistakenly venturing into the high security zone in Colombo city, the article highlights the masculinist desires and imperatives that fuel the modern project of the nation-state

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wherein a critical site that continues to be colonized and subjugated in struggles of community is the female body, the naturalized, gendered body of modernity. While using the vantage point of gender to interrogate the hegemonic connotations of national security, de Silva critiques the feminist groups in Sri Lanka who expressed their outrage from the standpoint of depoliticized humanitarian politics of human rights rather than problematizing the state violence by critiquing the ideological suppositions of national security. The state was not seen as the agent in criminalizing Sriyalatha’s femininity and endangering her broken life; rather, her transgressive intrusion into ‘sovereign’ space was seen as threatening public morality, order and security. Violence against Sriyalatha, de Silva argues, is a testimony that the hegemonic state remains a contested site. A.K. Ramakrishnan’s article focusses on the democratic implications of neoliberalism. It critiques the contemporary liberal theory of IR by pointing to the dichotomy between liberal claims as a ‘liberating force’ and its function as a ‘bulwark of established order’. Since neoliberalism does not address questions of global structural unevenness and inequity, the article focusses on the agency of social movements that are compelled to raise such pertinent questions internally and internationally. By examining the farmers, fish workers and other peoples’ movement in South Asia, it argues that an important point of departure for IR theorizing in the region could be the sites of peoples’ struggles in response to global changes. Haider Nizamani seeks an alternative to state-centric conceptualization of security by viewing state as an integral part of the society. State, he argues, has no inherent propensities or essence and the nature of institutions of the state are rooted in an ever-changing societal fabric. Such a conception of society and its attendant power relations also contextualizes the security policy of a given state as a response to the constant making and remaking dynamics of the societal fabric in which the internal and external realms are intertwined. Nizamani deploys tools of discourse analysis and genealogical methodology to deconstruct the ‘givens’ of the security analyses by unravelling its contingent nature and artificiality of statements that are presented as objective truths and by making visible not just its arbitrariness, but its complex interconnections with a multiplicity of historical processes, many of which are of recent origin.

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Sohail Inayatullah’s article seeks to deconstruct the knowledge frame of reference, the modern episteme from which South Asia makes sense to us today. State-oriented framework and epistemological boundaries of neorealism, he argues, imprisons us in a limited view of the world that excludes any debate on how humans act or how ideas can transform history and their emancipatory view of knowledge. In order to undo this uni-dimensional reality, the article argues for the need to develop a working model of the South Asian theory of knowledge and looks at the future as an instrument to rethink the present. Inayatullah develops preferred and probable scenarios of South Asia not to predict the future, but to create the possibility of another space where the present is seen as a functioning discourse instead of an essentialized reality. Amitav Acharya addresses the debate between area studies and disciplinary knowledge of IR and stresses the need to avoid the twin dangers of exceptionalism and parochialism while challenging the ethnocentricism of Western disciplinary concepts. While acknowledging new challenges posed to the traditional concerns of IR by globalization, Acharya argues that it has also opened new possibilities to offer regional perspectives on wider world issues. This may be accomplished by moving away from the Cold War notion of regions as ‘subordinate systems’ to link regional dynamics with dominant global structures towards viewing them as ‘regional worlds’, which encourages regional thinking about global forces without assuming the automatic dominance of the latter.

Search for an Alternative Paradigm The variety of theoretical perspectives deployed by contributors to this volume clearly shows that there is no singular notion of an alternative paradigm from a South Asian standpoint. In fact, the term ‘alternative’ itself is interpreted variously by different authors. Some seek to identify alternative sites of knowledge creation, while others try to evolve alternative set of tools for producing knowledge or deploy alternative theoretical frameworks with no standard point of reference, which varies from neorealism to a broader conception of Western IR theories. Siddqua, for instance, explores a non-military

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and people-oriented notion of security within the broad parameters of neorealism. Sahni and Chatterjee draw upon both neorealist and constructivist approaches. Quayes prefers to delve into postcolonial traditions and Nizamani advocates critical theories as a better alternative for IR theorizing in South Asia. Uyangoda does not draw his insights from any particular school of thought for proposing an alternative modus vivendi for reinventing the state. Other contributors in the volume focus instead on identifying alternative sites of knowledge construction. Ramakrishnan argues that social movements and peoples’ struggle could provide an important vantage point for theorizing in IR, while de Silva delves into everyday life experiences of Sriyalatha to critique the notion of national security. Inayatullah experiments with an alternative epistemological tool that develops future scenarios as possible points of departure to reframe the present and to show the contingent nature of present that should not be viewed as an essentialized reality. The key is not to design and promote any particular alternative theoretical paradigm, but to create non-hegemonic spaces where IR scholars from South Asia are free to ask fundamental questions such as what it means to know, who legitimately knows, where knowers are situated, how certain issues achieve importance as objects of study, and what the purpose of theory itself is (Sylvester 1996) as well as to respect the plurality of voices emerging from within the region. Nandy puts it aptly: . . . cultural pluralism is not something out there in South Asia. It is a state of mind and is telescoped into the very selfhood of individual South Asians. A plural vision of the future in South Asia is not, therefore, a trait acquired through modern education and exposure to the global mass media, but something that is totally unheroic and almost by default a part of everyday life. (Cited by Inayatullah in this volume)

A more useful exercise may, therefore, be to raise certain generic issues that need to be addressed in thinking through what an alternative paradigms of IR may entail. The first pertains to the question of disciplinary boundaries of IR which ‘are fundamental in determining who its legitimate speakers are, what rules of the game it condones, and what authoritative disciplinary practice consists of ’ (Bourdieu cited in Tickner, 2005: 8).

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In critiquing the kind of knowledge South Asian IR has produced thus far and urging its scholarly community to transgress its disciplinary boundaries and inviting the ‘outsiders’—post-colonial and development theorists, feminists and cultural critics—we may be accused of committing hara-kiri. These propositions, critics will argue, may sound the death-knell of this discipline than infuse a new life-spirit into it. Throwing open the disciplinary gates of IR, no doubt, entails risks but taking such risks are not only worthwhile; they are integral to the churning process IR in South Asia must go through to redefine itself. Its existing boundaries are too narrow to allow any meaningful engagement with exploring alternatives and its ways of creating knowledge largely preclude the possibility of any new knowledge especially of universal applicability being created in the periphery, which are the present loci of South Asian IR. Therefore, it may well be necessary to step outside the disciplinary core of IR to redefine its various problematics. The second issue refers to privileging of ‘expertise’, invariably at the cost of devaluing ‘everyday life experiences’ in the practices of knowledge building. A critical reflexivity in our academic pursuits calls for ‘dismissing the idea that experts are privileged knowers, by abandoning the role of gatekeepers and dismantling disciplinary gates, by asking who benefits from what we do as academics and by being more sensitive to our own lived experiences and those of “others”’ (Tickner 2005: 9). An over-emphasis on the ‘applied’ nature of social knowledge has already hampered theoretical work in South Asian IR. In a globalizing world, such thinking tends to privilege production of increasingly professionalized and ‘marketfriendly’ knowledge. At the other end of this spectrum are a ‘growing number of voices calling for an opening up of the international to the grassroots’ (Darby 2003: 153), which need to be taken seriously. That is because the indigenous people and grassroots-level players have not only questioned the conventional categories of knowledge, but also conventional methods of producing knowledge. They challenge the very basis of the positivist knowledge that there can be a single universalizing epistemology that will hold the answers to giving all peoples in all a better life; and that ‘experts’ and specialists, essentially from the West, had a monopoly to produce knowledge (Ibid.; Sheth 1983).

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The third issue involves the indigenization of academic discourses in IR. Having discussed the genetic ethnocentrism of this discipline, it is important to clarify that the intellectual endeavour of re-fashioning South Asian alternatives in IR does not advocate ‘mimicking the West’ (Bhabha 1987) or ‘catching up’ with the West, but to work towards making IR turn post-Western. If the South Asian IR were to follow the trajectory laid down by the West, it can never catch up and will remain stuck ‘in the transition narrative that will always remain grievously incomplete’ (Chakrabarty 2000: 1510). So, a call for indigenization is not aimed at producing ‘native’ South Asian IR theory. An alternative paradigm of IR cannot be a nationalist, atavistic or nativist project which entails a ‘wholesale rejection of Western social science’ (Alatas 1993: 312). Nativism is the exact reverse of universalism; both lack certain forms of self-reflexivity. Chakrabarty, for instance, rightly argues that ‘one cannot but problematize “India” at the same time as one dismantles “Europe” . . .’ especially because ‘this equating of a certain version of Europe with “modernity”, which we are trying to probelmatize is not the work of Europeans alone; third-world nationalisms, as modernizing ideologies par excellence, have been equal partners in this process’ (2000: 1512–13). The idea is to create spaces for alternative thinking on IR which cannot be accomplished without a critical self-awareness and questioning of the a priori assumptions, procedures and values embedded in the positivist enterprise. It means that ‘the question of what we keep and what we discard from the heritage of modernity needs explicit and ongoing discussion’ (Inayatullah and Blaney 2004: 201). Indigenizing also does not seek to reject everything modern (or Western) or eulogize the pre-modern (or Indian) world. According to ancient Indian wisdom, every yuga or age has its own distinctive problems and needs to come to terms with them in its own way. The past can only be a resource or a great source of inspiration and self-confidence, but it can never become a model of blueprint for the present. Those involved in the task of exploring an alternative paradigm, however, must question the implicit, yet ubiquitous usage of Western standards to judge knowledge produced through non-Western modes of thinking or at non-Western sites of knowledge making. That is because, ‘by defining what is “immutable” and “universal”,

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the West silences the visions of Other peoples and cultures to ensure the continuity of its own linear projections of the past and the present on to the future’ (Sardar 1998: 23). What also needs to be questioned is the West’s assumed right to impart legitimacy on all knowledge systems, that is, determining which ‘ways of creating knowledge’ are legitimate and which are not and especially using the yardsticks and values of a particular kind of knowledge-making enterprise—positivism—for judging the legitimacy of all other and often intrinsically different ways of producing knowledge. Value-neutrality, for example, one of the cornerstones of modern Western scientific inquiry, is a culturally specific trait. Claims of neutrality allow for the disavowal of knowledge based upon different value systems that don’t appreciate this concept in the same way. Confucianism highlights the unity of knowledge and action, and the importance of virtue and morality for organising social endeavours, including knowledge (Tickner 2003: 304).

Nandy, therefore, insists that ‘an alternative that is genuinely an alternative cannot take the West as its reference point [as] for him, the West is more than a geographical and temporal entity; it is a psychological category. His alternative then is located beyond the West/anti-West dichotomy’ (Sardar 1998: 4–5). An argument for indigenization is, thus, not the same as calling for nativism, but creating alternative spaces where we can ‘listen to’ the South Asian as well as other non-Western voices and learn from their insights. This volume does not offer an alternative paradigm of IR from a South Asian perspective. It marks only the beginning of a stupendous journey that South Asians must undertake towards this end. This is only the first step in that direction.

ENDNOTES 1.

2.

The terms ‘West’ and ‘Western’ throughout this chapter are used not in a monolithic sense, but pertains to the dominant political, military and economic forces therein. The Observer Research Foundation, a think tank based in Delhi with another office in Chennai, is supported by the Reliance Industries. Another centre, the Delhi Policy Group, receives support from the Sriram Group of Industries.

International Relations in South Asia 43 3. 4. 5.

6.

7.

This volume is the product of the first APISA workshop. Strategic Analysis became a refereed journal only in the year 2002. These include the Asian Relations conference, New Delhi, 1947; the conference on Indonesia, New Delhi, 1949 (both organized by Nehru); and, the Conference of Southeast Asian Prime Ministers, Colombo, 1954; the Conference of Southeast Asian Prime Ministers, Bogor, 1954; and the Asian-African Conference, Bandung, 1955 (Acharya 2005). Kaviraj writes that the State’s classical economic relations with these communities (over whom it formally presided), would be in terms of tax and rent. And while its rent demands would fluctuate according to its military needs and its ability to despoil, it could not (in its own interest or in the pretended interest of the whole society) restructure the productive or occupational organization of these social groups (Kaviraj 1991: 75). Uyangoda outlines the following meanings and conceptions of this category of ‘our land’ or ‘our country’: (a) ours is a Sinhalese country; (b) ours is a land of Buddhists; (c) this is the only place in the world where the Sinhalese race exists; (d) foreigners have come and exploited our country, and we the Sinhalese have become poorer and poorer; (e) we will not allow anyone to divide our country; (f) why can these Tamils not go back to where they originally came from? See Jayadeva Uyangoda, ‘The State and the Process of Devolution in Sri Lanka’, in Sunil Bastian, 1994 (ed.), State and Devolution in Sri Lanka. New Delhi: Konark Publishers, p. 90.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Abraham, Itty. 2004. ‘The Changing Institutional-Intellectual Ecology of Knowledge-Production in South Asia’, Paper presented at the UNESCO Forum on Higher Education, Knowledge and Research, Paris: 1–3 December. Acharya, Amitav and Barry Buzan. 2005. ‘Why There is no NATO in Asia: The Normative Origins of Asian Multilateralism’, Paper No. 05–05, Weatherhead Centre for International Relations, Harvard University, July. ————–. 2007. ‘Why there is no Non-Western Theories of IR’, International Relations of the Asia-Pacific, 7(3). Ahmed, Imtiaz. 1993. State and Foreign Policy in India. New Delhi: Vikas Publishing House. ————–. 1998. The Efficacy of the Nation State in India: A Post-Nationalist Critique. Colombo: International Centre for Ethnic Studies Monograph. Ahmed et al. 2004. Eqbal Ahmed: Between Past and Future: Selected Essays on South Asia. Karachi: Oxford University Press. Alatas, Syed Farid. 1993. ‘On the Indigenisation of Academic Discourse’, Alternatives, 18(3): 307–38.

44 Navnita Chadha Behera Alavi, Hamza. 1972. ‘The State in Post-colonial Societies: Pakistan and Bangladesh’, New Left Review, 1(74): 59–81. ————–. 1988. ‘Pakistan and Islam: Ethnicity and Ideology’, in Hamza Alavi and Fred Halliday (eds), State and Ideology in the Middle East and Pakistan, pp. 64–111. New York: Monthly Review Press. Ali, Mahmud S. 1993. The Fearful State: Power, People and Internal War in South Asia. London: Zed Books. Appadurai, Arjun. 1996. Modernity at Large: Cultural Dimensions of Globalization. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Armstrong, H.F. 1956–57. ‘Neutrality: Varying Tunes’, Foreign Affairs, 35: 57–83. Aydlini, Ersel and Julie Matthews. 2000. ‘Are the Core and Periphery Irreconcilable? The Curious World of Publishing in Contemporary International Relations’, International Studies Perspectives, 1(3): 289–303. Ayoob, Mohammed. 1995. The Third World Security Predicament: State Making, Regional Conflict and International System. Boulder CO.: Lynne Rienner. Aziz, K.K. 1993. The Murder of History in Pakistan. Lahore: Vanguard. Bajpai, Kanti. 2003. ‘Indian Conceptions of Order and Justice: Nehruvian, Gandhian, Hindutva and Neo-Liberal,’ in Rosemary Foot et al. (eds), Order and Justice in International Relations, pp. 236–61. New York: Oxford University Press. Bajpai, Kanti and Harish Shukul (eds). 1995. Interpreting World Politics. New Delhi: Sage Publications. Bajpai, Kanti and Siddharth Mallavarapu (eds). 2004. International Relations in India: Bringing Theory Back Home. New Delhi: Orient Longman. Bajpai, U.S. 1985. Non-Alignment: Perspectives and Prospects. New Delhi: Humanities Press Int. Inc. Banerjee, Dipankar (ed.). 2000. Security Studies in South Asia: Change and Challenges. New Delhi: Manohar. Basrur, Rajesh. 2005. Minimum Deterrence and India’s Security. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Behera, Navnita Chadha. 1996. ‘Perpetuating the Divide: Political Abuse of History in South Asia’, Contemporary South Asia, 5(2): 191–206. ————–. 2000. State, Identity and Violence: Jammu, Kashmir and Ladakh. New Delhi: Manohar. ————–. 2003. Engaging Tomorrow: Ford Foundation, Regional Security, Peace and Cooperation in South Asia, A Report (unpublished). ————–. 2004. ‘Meta Narratives and Subaltern Voices: Role of the Ford Foundation in South Asia’, Paper presented at 45th Annual Convention of International Studies Association, Montreal, March. ————–. 2005. ‘India and the International Order: From Norms to Realpolitik’, Occasional Paper. New Delhi: Department of Political Science, University of Delhi. Bhaba, Homi. 1987. ‘Of Mimicry and Man: The Ambivalence of Colonial Discourse’, in Annette Michelson et al. (eds), October: The First Decade, 1976– 1986. Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press.

International Relations in South Asia 45 Bhaba, Homi. 1994. The Location of Culture. London: Routledge. Bhargava, K.K., Heinz Bongartz and Farooq Sobhan. 1995. Shaping South Asia’s Future: Role of Regional Cooperation. New Delhi: Vikas Publishing House. Bidwai, Praful and Achin Vanaik. 1999. South Asia on a Short Fuse: Nuclear Politics and the Future of Global Disarmament. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Chakrabarty, Dipesh. 2000. ‘Postcoloniality and the Artifice of History: Who Speaks for “Indian” Pasts?’, in Diana Brydon (ed.), Postcolonialism: Critical Concepts in Literary and Cultural Studies, Volume IV, pp. 1491–1518. London: Routledge. Chatterjee, P. 1985. Nationalist Thought and Colonial World: A Derivative Discourse, London: Zed Books. Chatterjee, P. et al. 2002. Social Science Capacity in India: A Report, SSRC Working Paper Series, Volume 6. New York: SSRC. Cheema, Pervaiz Iqbal and Rasul Bux Rais. 2001. ‘The State of International Relations in Pakistan,’ in S.H. Hashmi (ed.), The State of Social Sciences in Pakistan. Islamabad: Council of Social Sciences, Pakistan. Chimni, B.S. 1993. International Law and World Order: A Critique of Contemporary Approaches. New Delhi: Sage Publications. Cox, Robert. 1986. ‘Social Forces, States and World Orders: Beyond International Relations Theory’, in Robert O. Keohane (ed.), Neo-Realism and its Critics, pp. 204–54. New York: Columbia University Press. Crawford, Robert A. and Darryl S.L. Jarvis (eds). 2001. International Relations— Still an American Social Science?: Towards Diversity in International Thought. New York: State University of New York Press. Dalby, Simon. 1992. ‘Security, Modernity, Ecology: The Dilemmas of PostCold War Security Discourse’, Alternatives, 17(1): 95–134. Dallmayr, Fred. 1996. ‘Global Development? Alternative Voices from Delhi’, Alternatives, 21(2): 259–82. Darby, Phillip. 2003. ‘Reconfiguring “the International”: Knowledge Machines, Boundaries, and Exclusions’, Alternatives, 28(1): 141–66. Davetak, Richard. 1995. ‘The Project of Modernity and International Relations Theory’, Millennium, 24(1): 27–51. Debrah, E.M. 1961. ‘Will Uncommitted Countries Remain Uncommitted?’, Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 336: 83–97. Dinh, Tran Van. 1975. ‘Non-aligned but Committed to the Hilt’, Pacific Community, 7(1): 118–31. Dixit, J.N. 1997. ‘Inadequacies in the Study of International Relations and Area Specialization in India’s Policy and Relations’, in M.S. Rajan (ed.), International and Area Studies in India. New Delhi: Lancers Books. Dubois, Marc. 1991. ‘The Governance of the Third World: A Foucauldian Perspective on Power Relations in Development’, Alternatives, 16(1): 1–30. Dutt, Sri Kant. 1984. India and the Third World: Altruism or Hegemony? London: Zed Books.

46 Navnita Chadha Behera Fenn Jr., Percy Thomas. 1929. ‘An Indian Poet Looks at the West’, International Journal of Ethics, 39(3): 313–23. Gardezi, Hasan H. 1991. Understanding Pakistan: The Colonial Factor in Societal Development. Lahore: Maktaba. Gier, Nicholas F. 1996. ‘Gandhi: Pre-Modern, Modern or Post-Modern?’, Gandhi Marg, 17(3): 261–81. Ghosh, Partha S. 1995. Cooperation and Conflict in South Asia. New Delhi: Manohar Publishers. Gupta, Sisir. 1964. India and Regional Integration in Asia. Bombay: Asia Publishing House. Halliday, Fred and Hamza Alavi (eds). 1988. State and Ideology in the Middle East and Pakistan. London: Macmillan. Haqqani, Hussain. 2005. Pakistan: Between Mosque and Military. Lahore: Vanguard Books. Harshe, Rajen. 1997. Twentieth Century Imperialism: Shifting Contours and Changing Perceptions. New Delhi: Sage Publications. ————–. (ed.). 2004. Interpreting Globalisation: Perspectives in International Relations. New Delhi: ICSSR and Rawat Publications. Hoodbhoy, P.H. and A.H. Nayyar. 1986. ‘Re-writing the History of Pakistan’, in M. Asghar Khan (ed.), Islam, Politics and the State. New Delhi: Selectbook Service. Inayatullah, Naeem and David L. Blaney. 2004. International Relations and the Problem of Difference. New York: Routledge. Jahan, Rounaq. 1972. Pakistan: Failure in National Integration. New York: Columbia University Press. Jalal, Ayesha.1995. Democracy and Authoritarianism in South Asia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Jaipal, Rikhi. 1983. Non-Alignment: Origins, Growth and Potential for World Peace. New Delhi: South Asia Books. Kalam, Abul and Akmal Hussain. 2003. ‘Teaching of International Relations at University level in Bangladesh’, in USEFI Report, Teaching of International Relations in South Asian Universities. New Delhi: USEFI. Karnad, Bharat. 2002. Nuclear Weapons and Indian Security: The Realist Foundations of Strategy. New Delhi: Macmillan. Kaviraj, Sudipto. 1991. ‘On State, Society and Discourse in India’, in James Manor (ed.), Rethinking Third World Politics. London: Longman. ————–. 1995. ‘Crisis of the Nation-State in India’, in John Dunn (ed.), Contemporary Crisis of the Nation-State. Oxford: Blackwell. Khan, Rasheeduddin (ed.). 1981. Perspectives on Non-Alignment. New Delhi: Kalamkar Prakashan. Khatri, Sridhar H. 1987 (ed.). Regional Security in South Asia. Kathmandu: Centre for Nepal and Asian Studies. ————–. 2003. ‘Teaching of International Relations in Nepal’, in USEFI 2003, Teaching of International Relations in South Asian Universities. New Delhi: USEFI.

International Relations in South Asia 47 Kothari, Rajni. 1975. ‘Introduction’, Alternatives, 1(1). ————–. 1978–79. ‘Disarmament, Development and a Just World Order’, Alternatives, 4(1): 1–10. ————–. 1979–80. ‘Towards a Just World’, Alternatives, 5(1): 1–42. Kothari, Smitu and Zia Mian (eds). 2001. Out of the Nuclear Shadow. Karachi: Oxford University Press. Krause, Keith. 1998. ‘Theorizing Security, State Formation and the “Third World” in the Post-Cold War World’, Review of International Studies, 24(1): 125–36. Lal, Vinay (ed.). 2000. Dissenting Knowledges, Open Futures: The Multiple Selves and Strange Destinations of Ashis Nandy. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Lapid, Yosef. 1989. ‘The Third Debate: On the Prospects of International Theory in a Post-Positivist Era’, International Studies Quarterly, 33(3): 234–54. Mallavarapu, Siddarth. 2004. ‘Introduction’, in Kanti Bajpai and Siddharth Mallavarapu (eds), International Relations in India: Bringing Theory Back Home. New Delhi: Orient Longman. Mohsin, Amena. 2003. The Chittagong Hill Tracts Bangladesh: The Difficult Road to Peace. London: Lynne Rienner. Muni, S.D. 1980. ‘South Asia’, in Mohammed Ayoob (ed.), Conflict and Intervention in the Third World. New Delhi: Vikas Publishing House. Nagaraj, R. 1998. ‘Introduction’, in Exiled at Home: Ashis Nandy. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Nandy, Ashis. 1987. Traditions, Tyranny and Utopia. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. ————–. 1998. The Savage Freud, reprinted in Nandy: Return From Exile. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Nayyar, A.H. and Ahmad Salim (eds). 2004. The Subtle Subversion: The State of Curricula and Textbooks in Pakistan. Islamabad: Sustainable Development Policy Institute. Nehru, Jawaharlal. 1950. Independence and After: A Collection of Speeches, 19461949. New York: Ayer Co. ————–. 2004. The Discovery of India. New Delhi: Penguin Books. ————–. 2004a. An Autobiography. New Delhi: Penguin Books. Nizamani, Haider K. 2001. The Roots of Rhetoric: Politics of Nuclear Weapons in India and Pakistan. New Delhi: India Research Press. Osborne, Peter. 1992. ‘Modernity is a Qualitative, Not a Chronological, Category’, New Left Review, 1(192): 65–84. Parajuli, Pramod. 1991. ‘Power and Knowledge in Development Discourse: New Social Movements and the State in India,’ International Social Science Journal, 127, 173–90. Phadnis, Urmila. 1989. Ethnicity and Nation Building in South Asia. New Delhi: Sage Publications. Rais, Rasul Bakhsh. 2003a. ‘Teaching of International Relations in Pakistani Universities’, in USEFI 2003, Teaching of International Relations in South Asian Universities. New Delhi: USEFI.

48 Navnita Chadha Behera Rais, Rasul Bakhsh. 2003b. ‘Building State and Nation in Pakistan’, in Charles H. Kennedy et al. (eds), Pakistan at the Millennium. Karachi: Oxford University Press. ————–. 2005. ‘Teaching of International Relations in Pakistani Universities’, in Inayatullah et al. (eds), Social Sciences in Pakistan: A Profile. Islamabad: Council of Social Sciences, Pakistan. Rajan, M.S. (ed.). 1997. International and Area Studies in India. New Delhi: Lancer Publishers. Rana, A.P. 1980. ‘The Development of International Studies in India: A Profile of Some Critical Constraints’, in K.P. Misra and R.C. Beal (eds), International Relations Theory: Western and Non-Western Perspectives, pp. 228–39. New Delhi: Vikas Publishing House. ————–. 1988a. Reconstructing International Relations as a Field of Study in India: A Program for the Disciplinary Development of International Relations Studies. Studying International Relations, The Baroda Perspective, Occasional Review-I. Baroda: The Maharaja Sayajirao University. ————–. 1988b. The International Relations Study of the Political Universe: A Note on Supplementary Strategies for the Exploration of the Political ScienceInternational Relations-Area Studies Continuum, Studying International Relations, The Baroda Perspective, Occasional Review-II, Baroda: The Maharaja Sayajirao University. ————–. 1989. The Study of International Relations in India: State of the Field Conference and Colloquia Reports, Studying International Relations, The Baroda Perspective, Occasional Review-III. Baroda: The Maharaja Sayajirao University. Rana, A.P. and K.P. Misra. 2004. ‘Communicative Discourse and Community in International Relations Studies in India: A Critique,’ in Kanti Bajpai and Siddharth Mallavarapu (eds), International Relations in India: Bringing Theory Back Home, pp. 71–122. New Delhi: Orient Longman. Riaz, Ali. 1994. State, Class and Military Rule. Dhaka: Nadi New Press. Ross, Dorothy et al. (eds). 1992. The Origins of American Social Science. Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press. Rupesinghe, Kumar (ed.). 1998. Negotiating Peace in Sri Lanka: Efforts, Failures and Lessons. London: International Alert. Said, Edward W. 1994. Representations of the Intellectual. New York: Vintage Books. Sardar, Ziauddin. 1998. ‘Introduction: The A, B, C, D (and E) of Ashis Nandy’, in Return from Exile: Ashis Nandy. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Samaddar, R. and Helmut Reifeld (eds). 2001. Peace as Process: Reconciliation and Conflict Resolution in South Asia. New Delhi: Manohar. Savarkar, V.D. 1969. Hindutva: Who is a Hindu? Bombay: S.S. Savarkar. Sheth, D.L. 1983. ‘Grass Roots Stirrings and the Future of Politics’, Alternatives, 9(1): 1–24. Sinclair, Timothy J. 1996. ‘Beyond International Relations Theory: Robert W. Cox and Approaches to World Order’, in Robert W. Cox and Timothy J.

International Relations in South Asia 49 Sinclair (eds), Approaches to World Order, pp. 3–18. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Singh, Jasjit. 1998. ‘A Nuclear Strategy for India’, in Jasjit Singh (ed.), Nuclear India. New Delhi: Knowledge World. Singh, Karan. 1967. Prophet of Indian Nationalism: A Study of the Political Thought of Sri Aurobindo Ghosh, 1893–1910. New Delhi: Bhartiya Vidya Bhavan. Smith, Steve. 2001. ‘Reflectivist and Constructivist Approaches to International Relations Theory’, in John Baylis and Steve Smith (eds), The Globalization of World Politics: An Introduction to International Relations, 2nd edition. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sobhan, Rehman and Syed Babar Ali. 1999. ‘Towards Building a South Asia Center’, Report prepared for the Steering Committee (unpublished). Spivak, Gayatri Chakravorty. 2000. ‘Can the Subaltern Speak?’, in Diana Brydon (ed.), Postcolonialism: Critical Concepts in Literary and Cultural Studies, Volume IV, pp. 1427–77. London: Routledge. Srestha, Anand P. and Hari Uprety (eds). 2003. Conflict Resolution and Governance in Nepal. Kathmandu: NEFAS. Subrahmanyam, K. 1994. ‘Nuclear Force Design and Minimum Deterrence Strategy for India’, in Bharat Karnad (ed.), Future Imperilled: India’s Security in the 1990s and Beyond. New Delhi: Penguin Viking. Syed, A.H. 1982. Pakistan, Islam, Politics and National Solidarity. New York: Praeger. Sylvester, Christine. 1996. ‘The Contributions of Feminist Theory to International Relations’, in Steve Smith et al. (eds), International Theory: Positivism and Beyond, pp. 254–78. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Tagore, Rabindranath. 2002. Nationalism. New Delhi: Rupa & Co. Talbot, Ian. 2003. ‘Back to the Future? Pakistan, History and the Nation Building’, in Charles H. Kennedy et al. (eds), Pakistan at the Millennium. Karachi: Oxford University Press. Tellis, Ashley. 2001. India’s Emerging Nuclear Posture: Between Recessed Deterrence and Ready Arsenal. Santa Monica: Rand. Tickner, Arlene B. 2003. ‘Seeing IR Differently: Notes from the Third World’, Millennium, 32(2): 295–324. ————–. 2005. ‘Everyday Experience as IR Theory’, Paper presented at the ISA Annual Meeting, Honolulu, Hawaii, 2–5 March. USEFI 2003. Teaching of International Relations in South Asian Universities. New Delhi: USEFI. Uyangoda, Jayadeva. 1994. ‘The State and the Process of Devolution in Sri Lanka’, in Sunil Bastian (ed.), State and Devolution in Sri Lanka, p. 90. New Delhi: Konark Publishers. Vahid, S.A. 1964. Thoughts and Reflections of Iqbal. Lahore: S.L. Ashraf and Sons. Vanaik, Achin. 2004. ‘Globalization and International Relations’, in Achin Vanaik (ed.), Globalization and South Asia: Multidimensional Perspectives. New Delhi: Manohar.

50 Navnita Chadha Behera Waever, Ole. 1999. ‘The Sociology of a not so International Discipline: American and European Developments in International Relations’, in Peter J. Katzenstein et al. (eds), Exploration and Contestation in the Study of World Politics, pp. 47–87. Cambridge: MIT Press. Waseem, Mohammad. 1985. Politics and the State in Pakistan. Lahore: Progressive Publishers. Walker, R.B.J. 1984. ‘East Wind, West Wind: Civilisations, Hegemonies, and World Orders’, in R.B.J. Walker (ed.), Culture, Ideology and World Order. Boulder, CO: Westview. ————–. 1993. Inside/Outside: International Relations as Political Theory. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wignaraja, Ponna (ed.). 1993. New Social Movements in the South: Empowering the People. New Delhi: Vistaar. Wignaraja, Ponna and Akmal Hussain (eds). 1989. The Challenge in South Asia: Development, Democracy and Regional Cooperation. New Delhi: Sage Publications.

2 Distant Futures and Alternative Presents for South Asia Sohail Inayatullah

IN SEARCH OF TRUTHS

A

saffron-robed monk trudges up the mountains of Nepal in search of a great guru.1 He finally reaches the Enlightened One only to find the room full of other seekers. He patiently waits his turn until he is invited up to the rostrum. There, the guru foresees the future. India’s future is bright, but there will be a period of great difficulty. First, Pakistan will attack India, possibly with nuclear weapons. China, seeing its opportunity, will follow suit. To the rescue will be first, Russia, and then, the United States. The lesson is not that we have been given privileged information— the future is far more mysterious than what mystics or technocrats can imagine—but how the dominant model of international relations, neorealism, can shape our understanding of current and future events.2 Not only are we handcuffed to the past, but we are also chained to the future. Breaking free of these temporal boundaries is not an easy task (Ahmed 2005: 906). Our theories of the real, our language, our understanding of daily events constantly force us into a particular present; we do not notice that this particular present became so by upending other possible presents. To begin to undo this uni-dimensional reality, we first develop a working model of the South Asian theory of knowledge and then by moving into the future— through preferred and probable scenarios of South Asia—we make the present remarkable, that is, we allow it to be seen as a functioning discourse instead of an essentialized reality (Inayatullah 1998: 27).

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We develop visions and scenarios, partly to map out the alternatives and analyse the uncertainties and partly to create the possibility of another space, and thus to open up the present. One crucial caveat— the piece has a Pakistan and Indian bias, and does not adequately address issue of other communities or nations of South Asia. The future thus becomes a space in which we can map out alternative possibilities, question our core assumptions, and eventually rethink and possibly transform the present (Inayatullah 2004 and 2006). The future also allows discussion since our identification with a possible space is less intense; we are less likely to hold onto positions and will be more concerned with negotiating possible realities. By moving into the future, our intention is to undo the chains that create our configurations of South Asia today; chains that, we argue, are complicit in creating war, poverty and stultifying bureaucracy, state and military.

THE EPISTEMOLOGICAL BOUNDARIES To begin with, we need to deconstruct the eyes from which we see South Asia, the knowledge frame of reference, the modern episteme from which South Asia makes sense to us today. As shown by the above allegedly divinely-inspired intuitive forecast, our arena of reference creates the categories from which we know reality. As Mullah Nasruddin reminds us, we look for our keys by the street lamp, not where we lost them. Thus, even as the mystic may have transcended material reality, his upbringing represents conventional views of Cold war politics wherein for India, Pakistan and China are enemies, Russia is a lifetime friend, and the US—now that India is rapidly moving into semi-periphery status— is the new friend to be. Moreover, the future is not given to us through spiritual categories of reality (categories focussed on service, justice, consciousness and compassion), but from a vision which reinforces States and the territories they occupy. What is important then is what States do (security and economic development) and not how humans act or how ideas can transform history. Within this State-oriented framework, the essential category is power, framed as a zero-sum game that is essentially coercive.

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Reality is the battle between States and it exists in the relationships between States. Strategy is defined in technical-rationalist terms with the future seen as a useful arena of study if it can help predict the behaviour of other States and if it can lead to instrumental advantage for a particular State. The future as a site for transformation, for reconceptualizing who we are, how we live and what we can be is rarely investigated. The dominance of neorealism and the loss of mutual trust can be explained by external variables as well. The most important of them is the event of partition—the alleged break from colonialism—that has dominated intellectual efforts. With more than a generation of mistrust, hate and fear, creating alternative futures, new utopias and eutopias not dominated by the partition discourse has been nearly impossible.3 The trauma of partition is both used as justification for the strength of this particular accounting of reality and as revisionist history; for example, to argue that Pakistan, Kashmir, Bangladesh or even India have existed eternally as nation-states. States then occupy real territory, not imagined social spaces. This territory is metaphorically related to the body. Thus, for Pakistanis, losing Kashmir is like death, and for Indians, it is only amputation. Central to discussions of partition are colonial categories of thought (again, largely nation-state, bureaucracy oriented, with power as essentially administrative and military). Conceptual travel outside of British influence is difficult and cultural, economic, military and psychological colonialism and categories of thought remain in South Asian internal structures and representations of the self. Knowledge from this perspective is then expert knowledge; it is not critical, rather it is based on the famous five year plan. Knowledge practices that are more critical of historical categories appear by and large as unnatural acts as they remove the control of knowledge from experts and make problematic the official ‘one nation, one leader, one path’ view of the future. Neither feudal lords, civil service administrators, military strategists nor religious leaders find alternative critical renderings of history—present or future—of great utility since they do not help maintain a coherent centre and have little instrumentalist value. Being handcuffed to the future means that one ascribes to a view that is expert-based (bureaucracy-driven) in terms of knowledge,

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state-oriented in terms of the parameters of what is real, and realpolitik-driven in terms of the possibilities of what can happen. Alternative rendering of the real by peoples and organizations that exist outside State formations (local, national, regional and global), different accounts of power—spiritual, women’s, critical, visionary, for example—are all seen as escapist, idealist and impractical since they do not conform to the vision of the state planner or his academic counterpart, the Harvard or Oxford-trained economist. Even recent attempts to bring peace to South Asia are based on the new real politics of a post-9/11 world—the search for Bin Laden— and not the drive for a different world. The viewpoint of groups outside of the State nexus is that State power and epistemology imprisons us in a limited view of the world, while those at the periphery—by understanding the dominant view and their own view have a broader as well as emancipatory view of knowledge (Nielsen 1990: 10). Statecraft then from a woman’s view is merely ‘Mancraft’, creating a world where only functionaries and bureaucrats matter, where the value of women and future generations is diminished if not erased. The South Asian academic discourse has thus remained focussed on historical investigations and mired in feudal social relations. The future, in particular, has become fugitive and, when apprehended, it is made trivial as in the case of the five year plan. Again, this is largely because of the style, content and structure of South Asian colonial and post-colonial intellectual/State relations. This has been by and large administered by the civil service wherein appeasing the chief minister is far more important than independent intellectual inquiry. It is the State that gives academic discourse legitimacy since it is the State that has captured civil society. The paucity of socio-economic and political resources for the Academy exacerbates, if not causes, this situation. The South Asian intellectual style is strong on philosophical inquiry (debates over the various schools of Indian philosophy, for example), on history (the dynastic rise and fall of leaders) and commentary (on religious texts and the works of others) but weak in social sciences (hypothesis development, correlation, causation and critical debate) and futures studies (as well as peace studies, ecological studies and women’s studies). Creativity, as might be expected,

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is also a non-process in educational sites; memorization of facts (with little attention paid to the social, historical and epistemological context which creates these ‘facts’), and memorization of particular texts (The Quran or the Vedas) is more important than the meaning that these facts and texts embody. Their literal memorization does not allow their internalization, thus keeping power in the hands of authority, traditionally the Mullah or Brahmin and more recently, the bureaucrat or technocrat. While most believe that it is the myths of religion that bind the creative and independent mind, the mythology of Statecraft and dynastic-oriented colonial history are equally damaging. This colonial history has produced an overarching paradigm—of neorealism and developmentalism—which even the interpreters of the Hadith and Vedanta must relinquish their authority to. Caught in a battle of ego expansion and self-interest, nations function like self-interested egoistic individuals. Economic development can only take place at the national level with communities (and thus the traditional ecology of ethnic and religious groups) absent from participation. Only real politics with hidden motives behind every actor and action makes sense in this neorealist discourse. The task then is explaining the actions of a nation or of functionaries of the State. Envisioning other possibilities for ‘nation’ or ‘state’ and their interrelationships, that is, the assumptions that define what is considered eligible for academic discourse, remains unattempted. Structural analysis such as centre/periphery theory (a step beyond conspiracy theory) is intelligible but only with respect to the West (they are the oppressive centre; we are the victimized periphery); not with respect to internal structures or with respect to how minorities within each South Asian nation are brutally suppressed. Attempts to recreate the paradigm of international relations, strategic studies and development theory through women’s studies, world system research, historical social change analysis, peace studies, participatory action research or the social movements are considered naive and too idealistic. We are truly chained to the past, present and future. Our categories of the real and their representation in the world of politics make our imprisonment certain. Yet idealism does exist, but, in the quest for modernity it has been marginalized. Visions remain limited to evening prayer or

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meditation or personal peace, and they have no place in politics or structural peace, except at the level of the State which uses religious practices to buttress its own power and control over competing classes. The State appropriates visions into its own strategic discourse. When non-modernist visions do enter politics, they enter in modernist frameworks creating ‘Mullahism’ and syndicated ‘Hinduism’, thereby once again reducing the plurality of thought and action. They also exacerbate tribal politics—the politics of who is the true Muslim, the real Pakistani! Finally, because of the dominance of the international relations and national development models of the social, only two types of legitimate texts are possible in the South Asian discourse. The first is the definitive history that explains partition or independence (in India, texts of India’s ancient history are also acceptable); the second is the text that explains the causes of economic underdevelopment. In Pakistan, doctoral dissertations must travel along the path of national integration, asking the same tired questions: Is Pakistan an eternal state or is it recent? Why has national integration been so problematic? It is the text that defines Pakistani politics and academic life; all other texts remain within its contours. Those writing in a more technical manner (economics or development) must write on the causes of underdevelopment. A book on the future, unless it is framed by realist strategic politics or development policies, would be unfamiliar. To break out of our handcuffs, among other exercises we need to disturb power relations and official representations (and loyal critiques) of the real as reinforced in official and educational texts. An epistemic change is needed. The disappointment of post-colonial society has already worn heavy on the South Asian psyche. Betrayals by leaders and calls for more sacrifices from the people for yet another promised plan (and now the non-plan of market forces) are unlikely to transform the weight of the past and the abyss of the present. But to unchain the future from past and present, visions must not only be able to reconcile the past with the future, but they must also be able to point out the structural limits of change while allowing for the possibility of radical transformation. Visions must be contextual even as they challenge the context they emerge from; they must spring from metaphor and deconstruct their metaphorical basis. The future, that is

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liberated, must be a continuous process; it must neither give in to cynicism nor succumb to simplistic positive thinking.

VISIONS OF THE FUTURE Fortunately, there are alternative visions for South Asia4 outside of conventional categories as we show by summarizing the perspectives of various South Asian futurists. Q.K. Ahmad (1992), for instance, envisions a South Asia based on a sustainable development model with economic equity and people’s participation—especially, women, youth and NGOs—in creating indigenous knowledge and action models. This vision includes increased power for communities and villages as well as basic rights: a right to peace, to work, to education, to housing, to technology, to health services, to information and to a clean and safe environment. For Ahmed, political and economic power must be democratized. If not, we can anticipate continued violence from the unemployed and from ethnic minorities whose voices are not heard, who must be forcibly integrated into the nation-state. Rights, Ahmed argues, should not be given in ‘a patronizing sense of providing ordinary income earning opportunities through certain governmental and non-governmental programs, leaving aside the question that they are in reality the source of all power’ (Ibid.: 15). Other writers have continued this vein but focused primarily on the environment. For example, Barun Gurung (1992) believes that the Himalayan region’s already fragile ecosystem will be ruined by commercialization, development interventions and the resultant population growth. This will, in turn, lead to the further destruction of Bangladesh as well as northern India. However, Gurung believes that through a radical Buddhism, an ecological ethic could develop. Global warming has made the sustainability discourse even more urgent. The future is not predetermined and individuals can transform the trends. For Gurung and others such as Ashis Nandy, it is not religion that is the problem; in fact, it is the secular state in its commitment to develop individuals and regions that has created a violent State (Nandy 1990). What is needed then is a critical traditionalism; a new balance between the secular and the

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religious, one where the State is fair to all parties and does not privilege the secular. Sri Lankan community activist A.T. Ariyaratne (1990) envisions a future that links the spiritual and the material. Ariyaratne sees development as an awakening process that takes place in socioeconomic and individual realms. Individuals remain caught in the State and Developmentalist paradigm and become cynical of what is possible because power remains in the hands of the national and international elites. Ariyaratne’s way out of the present is through social movements focussed on community development, selfreliance, and cultural strength. ‘A simple lifestyle is particularly relevant when the limits to the planet’s capacity to sustain an extravagant materially affluence lifestyle has become clear’ (Ibid.: 21). As with Gandhi, Ariyaratne’s vision of the future then is a global community of villages marked by full participation and the welfare of all. ‘Millions of self-governing communities will emerge and to a large extent they will be self-sustaining’ (Ibid.: 26). In this context of awakening, the need for coercive governments will disappear. Political parties will not attempt to use violence to stay in power and reduce the electoral territory of others. This image of the future strikes fear into the hearts of both the Tamil rebels and the governing party. In Pakistan, for example, there are at least four possibilities (Inayatullah 1992). The first is a ‘Disciplined Capitalist Society’ in which the military and a strong centrist civil service create the conditions for the development of a national bourgeoisie (Herald 1991: 31–33). This is the current trajectory under Musharraf. Discipline and capitalism are both required to ensure that youth do not become Talibanized. The second scenario is ‘Islamic Socialism’ in which basic needs are met through State control of the economy but not State control of cultural and religious life—these remain syncretic and personal. While populist and egalitarian, this view is still industrial, demanding sacrifices from the people so as to create a rich developed nation. However, over the past decade, this view has all but disappeared. The Islamic discourse has become hegemonic. The third scenario is the ‘Return of the Ideal’; the original intention of Pakistan as a land of the pure and the search for the ideal Islamic polity that existed at the time of the Prophet. While this has remained the ideal, the cognitive dissonance between the ideal and

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the reality of vicious politics, ethnic violence and political corruption has led to a deep cynicism. Part of the problem has been the nature of the Islamic State. The search for perfection and its unattainability is the central problem of Islamic political theory. Muslims believe that they did have a perfect State and society, and to recover just that becomes the present task. Instead of rethinking the impossible ideal, or developing structures to balance one-man power, advice is given on how to tolerate tyranny. The result has been an overdeveloped (too much power) State and an underdeveloped civil society (not enough public participation). Modernity has added to this duality by making the cynicism even more pervasive. The fourth scenario is the ‘End of Sovereignty’ through military intervention by India, cultural intervention from the US and internal breakdown of the nation into many states. This fearful perception often leads to extremist renderings of reality, where local culture is saved at the expense of basic human freedoms. Ways out of these particular chains in Pakistan and South Asia might revolve around three vectors; (1) an acceptance of differences instead of a forced unity, (2) decentralization of power and economy, and (3) social design of the future, that is futures where identity and social purpose are re-imagined. The challenge is to create a culture of tolerance, where politics is about negotiating desired futures instead of efforts to paint the Other as the national enemy, as less than pure. Once the Other becomes the enemy, then the chains of history, of difference, become a noose that tightens daily until all others are the enemy, until no one is quite Muslim or Hindu or Buddhist enough. But even as we create new visions, the day-to-day reality is structural constraints imposed by external world authorities. World Bank-enforced privatization, for example, argues B.M. Sinha (1992) only makes the chaos of India’s present worse. What is needed are futures focussed on social movements that are committed to developing cooperatives, women’s rights, animal rights and protection for the environment. Without dramatic changes such as limits to land and wealth ownership, new models of growth and distribution and a balance between spiritual and material life, India will plunge into a massive chaotic and violent revolution. Sinha looks to new social movements and ideologies, such as P.R. Sarkar’s Progressive

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Utilization Theory and his samaj (or cultural and bioregional) movements for the answers to the future. He argues that the city Ananda Nagar, designed by Sarkar, is one example of appropriate ecological and social development, of economic democracy. However, while these visions offer us hope and inspiration, we need to remember that more than other groups, it is women who are handcuffed, often by governmental power. Most visions of the future do not recognize how women know the world, their categories of reality, their particular histories or their alternative visions of the future. For example, activist Nandini Joshi (1992) reminds us that it is women who have suffered the most in South Asia. While changing social attitudes are important, it is productive employment for them that would lead to their liberation—to economic security, social status and individual dignity. Without empowering South Asian women, South Asia’s future is bleak. Joshi’s particular future is Gandhian; she calls specifically for the local manufacturing of cloth in small-scale hut industries. By remaining in the village and recovering traditional local economies, the family can be maintained and women seen as Goddesses, not as commodities. Vandana Shiva adds that crucial for a sustainable future is (1) water being maintained in the hands of local authorities and (2) local ways of knowing being championed. Nature and epistemology are pivotal for a bright future for South Asians, particularly South Asian women. Shiva, while acknowledging the importance of the local, is not necessarily committed to Joshi’s particular view of women, which some might argue is Orientalist. Indeed, womanist writer Shivani Banerjee Chakravorty (1992) believes that a return to a village economy is too simple a solution as it denies the pervasiveness of modernity. Moreover, the village community does not necessarily guarantee a better future for women as it too is male dominated and vertically structured. Merely weaving cloth will not create a new future for India or South Asia, more dramatic steps are necessary. Among them, a reconstitution of women in South Asian thought outside of the nationalist discourse (as in ‘Mother’ India) is a necessary first step. For Chakravorty, women must confront modernity and in collaboration with men create new social structures where women are neither commodified nor deified. ‘This is a society where women have not lost the depth and strength of their cultural heritage,

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but have been able to acquire new strengths from the process of development and are able effectively to transform their quest for gender justice into establishing gender justice with the cooperation . . . of men’ (Ibid.: 941). This means seeing women as real people, not as archetypes existing primarily in myth. At the same time, this requires men to find their own place. However, given that South Asia is in a disadvantaged position in the world capitalist economy, meaning unemployment is rampant, it is often easier to blame and abuse those who are the most defenceless—women and children. Gender and power must be reconceptualized in neither modernist nor traditional frames of meaning. Part of this is occurring through the outsourcing miracle, at least for the upper middle class of India, and to a lesser extent, Pakistan and Bangladesh. Women can thus potentially escape the problems of tradition in South Asia through the lifeline of globalization, even with all its attendant inequities. Sensitive to post-modern articulations of power/knowledge, men/ women, secular/religious, Sankaran Krishna (1992) has argued for an alternative approach to the task of imaging the future of South Asia, particularly India. For him, we need to imagine other structural possibilities rather than the peculiar nation-state divisions that presently exist. However, Krishna does not call for a particular vision, rather he seeks to open up conceptual space for a range of new South Asias. He does, however, criticize the nationalist discourse. For Krishna, continued efforts to protect national sovereignty at the cost of endless human lives is clearly not a preferred future. In the name of national security and identity—most recently in Kashmir— all sorts of violence are committed. We thus need to radically redefine security and sovereignty and create a world where dissidents can safely walk the streets. However, this effort is often literally laughed out of court since ‘national security is serious business . . . best left to the hard-headed, amoral, rational and ever-watchful realists’ (Ibid.: 865). Being called idealist is one thing, but often the charge against those who create a counter discourse to national security is that they are traitorous. Charged such, the debate ends and the discourse of nationalism continues. But while post-modern visions provide us with theoretical comfort, we cannot forget the visions of war ahead. For example, peace researcher, Johan Galtung (1992) has compared South Asia,

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particularly India, to the emerging European Community. This intriguing perspective gives some distance and allows unexpected similarities to emerge. Both have a memory of past glories, both have a social structure that can carry this mantle and both have a national culture which can provide legitimacy for leadership. Galtung thus sees the future of South Asia as strongly India dominated with Pakistan, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Nepal as peripheries. Galtung, however, does not stay in the International Relations discourse as he reminds us that as with all rises to superpower status, the decline is not too far way either. The cost of the rise, however, will be untold suffering for many and glory for the few as territorial or economic expansion always comes at a cost. While the structural and cosmological reasons for this scenario are evident, certainly this projection of South Asia’s future is one that only centre elites would prefer. Galtung asks, ‘Does that drama . . . that prison . . . have to be enacted again? Why don’t we ever learn?’ (Ibid.: 928). And yet the EU (European Union) has been successful. The local remains vibrant even as new super-ordinate rules emerge— traditional rivalries and wars are now far less likely. The imagination of a South Asia Union may be Europe’s gift to the region. For Zia Sardar, South Asia is trapped by its past; its imagination fitted into an imitative mould (1992: 942–47; 1997). But equally dangerous is an active and instrumental modernity. South Asia ‘does not know which way to turn: all roads to the future, it appears, pass through the valley of death . . . the Indian subcontinent is in the imminent danger of being killed by its own progeny’ (Ibid.: 942). Both traditional ideology as well as modernist rationalist fabrications of identity and State must be dealt with. Doing so would unleash the creative imagination that sustains the mythologies of the culture that is South Asia. The first step in doing this needs to be some sort of partnership between South Asian nations and traditions. They must find a place to meet, to transform their recent past and recreate their present. Sardar concludes his essay with two words: ‘come together’ (Ibid.: 949). For Ashis Nandy, the key is not to lock oneself into any particular future, whether globalist or localist, but rather to choose futures wherein the options of dissent remain open. It is the institutionalization of power and knowledge wherein choice disappears. South Asia historically has had a history of pluralism. This can be recovered.

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Alternative futures thinking, dissenting thinking, is what is crucial in creating a different South Asia. Nandy writes, ‘Cultural pluralism is not something out there in South Asia. It is a state of mind and is telescoped into the very selfhood of individual South Asians. A plural vision of the future in South Asia is not, therefore, a trait acquired through modern education and exposure to the global mass media, but something that is totally unheroic and almost by default a part of everyday life’. (Nandy 1998)

This is in contrast to the new dominant image held by most pundits. Andy Mukherjee writes, ‘The next 20 years are crucial. India can choose to act now and get rich, or its people can continue to argue, stay poor—and become old’ (Mukherjee 2006: 20). Privatization, full use of the demographic bonus (more Indians of working age, up to 70 per cent, and thus a decline in the dependency ratio—of young and old), investment in infrastructure and Lee Kuan Yew-like leadership. It is moving away from the Argumentative Indian, as described by Amartya Sen, and toward the entrepreneur India. If all goes well, it will be India (with the South Asian ‘tigers’ following quickly behind) challenging China for a place in the centre. But will this be the future?

SCENARIOS To break out of the past and present, we need to develop a range of possibilities. These are developed in the nine scenarios below. These scenarios should be seen not as precise5 predictions but as moving maps, as points of discussion, as reflections on what might happen given various historical trends and as calls for transformation. They serve as points of possibility and points of warning. The first is continued Chaos and Collapse—ethnic violence (and possible fission into many small nations), war, poverty and powerlessness. This is the former Yugoslav situation with ethnicities finding themselves in intractable wars. Kashmir, for example, has been constructed by all parties as necessary for their national survival, without which national identity is at stake. While there has certainly been some movement toward peace, generally the steps are small and the vision illusive.

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The second is Hegemony by one actor (India) or by one gender (men) or by one model of economy (market industrialization), and one form of politics (bureaucracy-led with various levels of military intervention). This remains the fear throughout South Asia—domination by one country or group—and the fear within South Asian nations. The third is a return to a Communitarian Village form of life— the Gandhian vision based on universal spiritual values; local knowledge and endogenous models of development; local forms of economic exchange and the safeguarding of the environment. Each culture is able to find spiritual values from its own traditions and use it to recover an ecology of tolerance, of meeting basic needs. The challenge in this scenario is the possibility of cannibalization by the Global. The fourth is some type of Dramatic transformation or rupture, whether through a new confederation of South Asia, a new identity or a new theory of growth/distribution, knowledge/science and history/future. In this scenario, it is not merely a return to an imagined past, but a creation of a new future. This means that both realism and history must be challenged. For example, the model of P.R. Sarkar—Progressive Utilization Theory—is one such attempt (1988–1994; and Inayatullah 2002). The visions given above are different from the present optimistic mood held by governments, which believe that South Asia will become one of the new tigers, as India has currently managed to do so successfully in the Information Technology sector. In this fifth scenario—South Asia as an air-conditioned Shopping Mall— through free trade, smaller more efficient governments, exports6 via the IT revolution (and then biotech) will rise and a new South Asian middle class will emerge.7 This growth leads to an economic confederation (an expanded South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation [SAARC]), the only way South Asia can survive economically against the European Union (EU), North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), Asia Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) and so forth. It is business with its economic incentives that reduces the power of national identity, thus weakening the link between self, nation and territory. This could lead to the peripheralization of the smaller nations or could lead to positive lock-ins and increasing

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returns and growth for all areas: a positive cycle of growth. Thus, a bourgeois revolution would help create a new class more committed material comforts and educational opportunities than tired historical mythologies. At the same time, such a revolution, while creating a middle class, would further erode the conditions of peasants and the proletariat. Environmental degradation would worsen, and as in the West, the future would be robbed from future generations. A sixth scenario is that of Nuclear War. This is given great attention to in Western texts (Lamm 1985), although far less in South Asian texts since nuclear weapons occupy privileged nationalistic space. But to argue against nuclear weapons is to locate oneself as a traitor; one who has betrayed independence, even if going nuclear is certainly the road to economic bankruptcy. As Zulfikar Ali Bhutto promised and accurately predicted: Pakistanis will eat grass to gain nuclear power (Inayatullah 1992). A seventh scenario—Broadband Village—that is perhaps more creative, certainly less bounded to historical experience, is a Village high-tech model. In this model, modernity is bypassed and South Asia enters the post-industrial society through computer intelligence, broadband, genetic engineering and other sorts of dazzling but miniature new ‘appropriate’ technologies. Further negative affects of modern industrialism are then minimized. Not only does a bourgeois revolution occur, but it does so without the traditional costs of development—the loss of community. This could be a subset of the communitarian or the dramatic rupture scenario. A related but not as dramatic eighth scenario is focussed less on economic or political factors and more on the ability of culture to both destroy and recreate the traditional.8 In this scenario—the Victory of Bollywood—cultural intertwining through television, videos, mobile phones, connections of South Asian overseas, a type of cultural renaissance from Hong Kong to Abu Dubai led perhaps by Asian VTV and Star Television all create a fundamentally new Asian culture. This might mean a loss of cultural uniqueness, a loss of cultural integrity and the commodification of religious and tribal culture, but it also might lead to innovativeness and new types of cultural forms such as Bangra Rap, leading to intensified economic activity (for example, new wave, punk, rock and rap are billion dollar industries for the US and England). This is the fusion

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scenario—with the emergence of a new Asia 9—the victory of Bollywood. This scenario could be a subset of Shopping Mall or Dramatic rupture scenario. In our final ninth scenario, we anticipate a breakdown of South Asia from its present national structures into Numerous States. Each nation within itself would become more of a federation, allowing more rights for minorities. This is different from the first scenario in that the tension between the local and global is peacefully resolved; economy, culture and polity become decentralized but rights become more universal. An independent Kashmir or the division of Sri Lanka might begin such a trend, forcing nations to address the concerns of minorities. Summing up these scenarios, we can group them into the following: 1. Failed South Asia—chaos and collapse or nuclear collapse. 2. Globalization—this is the Shopping mall scenario, the hegemony scenario and the Bollywood future—a clear winner. 3. Dramatic Change—the Fusion/village High-tech, the dramatic rupture and to some extent the Bollywood future. 4. The Community Future—the communitarian model and the multiple states. Which one of these scenarios is most likely is nearly impossible to determine, certainly the seeds of all these futures are present. Leadership, the weight of the future, the push of new images, the desire for a better world, all will impact what emerges as the new future. Unfortunately while visions help us out of the present, we are often too soon returned to the national. The emphasis on mutual hate and fear of the Other continues to dominate discourses on the future and make efforts at critical thought merely appear as idealistic words, fine for poets and philosophers, but inappropriate for the important task of politics. But our concern is not so much in creating scenarios for their theoretical or aesthetic elegance, but in finding ways in which South Asians can increase intimacy among themselves, that is, to create a personal ecology wherein many histories and many futures can coexist (and thus challenge the nationalist ‘monology’ of unity and

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fear as the co-drivers of South Asian personal and community identity). Scenarios are neither true nor false, but points of departure which should help us reframe the present (Inayatullah 1990). The first step in creating an Other is in imagining its possibility. Can we imagine an alternative South Asia where we do not live in such a situation of heightened epistemological distance? The tragedy remains that Pakistanis and Indians continue to ask each other what the other looks like. Our effort above has been suggestive, in creating possible pathways out of the present. To return to intimacy, we can either unlock the handcuffs in history, that is go back in time, or we can go forward in time, to an alternative future. We have not yet spelled out which scenario is most likely given historical structures and future technologies, as well as guiding images of the future—the weight of history and the pull of the future. We have also not asked what might each scenario mean across different variables—how would it affect the State’s coercive power, how would family relations change, how would tradition and culture be transformed? And more importantly, if we believed in a particular vision, if we believed that a scenario could transform reality, we could ask how would that change one’s policy prescriptions, one’s day-today actions? Finally, we could assume a particular scenario had occurred and then backcast into the present, conjecturing on what trends, events and movements allowed for the victory of one particular discourse. Backcasting, while useful, in filling events and trends that shape the future, also has an empowering utility, as it helps individuals see that the impossible is often possible. At a 1999 Conference at the University of Minnesota on the futures of South Asia, delegates—diplomats, academics, human rights activists and students—imagined a South Asia without borders, where travel would be easy and cheap. National identities had become less important through cultural contact and through business relationships. At the same time, while there was a move to the regional, the local had become even more important. Quality of life, of environment, of depth spirituality were considered crucial. South Asia as well had benefited from IT-led economic growth. Overall, it was a positive image of the future and participants believed quite reachable in a generation. Most importantly, the vision of the future,

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south asia.com, if you will, offered hope, a possibility that there are pathways out of the daily violence that is South Asia.

PEACE AHEAD? Given the scenarios and visions presented, can we narrow our prognosis? Are there chances for positive peace ahead? For South Asia, economic and cultural confederation based on sustainable development and rights for all minorities is preferred— since it promises peace and cultural interaction—but given the present paradigm: how national identity is structured, how history is taught and the dominance of the language of statecraft, it is unlikely. At the same time, cultural history (an agreed upon origin) and cultural authenticity is far more problematic with sovereignty threatened from above and below. Thus, while there are strong reasons for the continuation of the present, the breakdown of history and culture, from the globalizing forces of technology (modern technologies and post-modern ones such as genetics, virtual reality and robotics) and capitalist development make the present problematic, indeed, unlikely. Globalization has led to another possibility for the entire region: a fundamentalist (or extremist) future (Inayatullah 1992a). Fundamentalism occurs when change is too quick, when religious authorities lose their traditional place in society, when knowledge is no longer hierarchical, that is, when the place of traditional experts in society is dislodged. However, we have had 20 years of this in Pakistan and a few years of this process in India. In Pakistan’s case, the bourgeois forces may prove much stronger than fundamentalist or feudal forces. However, this is not to argue that these States will continue along a simplistic Western-modelled secular path, rather a new configuration of the religious and the secular has to be forged—this will be an indigenous good that has some transcendental appeal much as Western democracy, that is, the separation of the civil and the religious, has had in the last few hundred years. Creative futures for South Asia will depend on that type of alternative political and social theory. Without these visions, with the present unlikely and the trends towards peace difficult, if we are not careful then continued war will be our future.

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THE LONG-TERM FUTURE As we move from current issues of nation-state politics to the longer term issues of what type of world we desire to live in, there is a range of stepping stones, markers to be touched on. 1. A South Asian Water regime: The problems here are associated with the use of water for the short term instead of the long term, for the benefit of the few at the expense of the many. Should water become a joint resource then? 2. Human rights regime: The problems in reaching agreement in this area should be obvious since each will claim that the other violates human rights while it has a perfect record. Action from global human rights associations can help create pressure on local levels. Human rights will need to focus not just on individual rights but following Sarkar, the right to purchasing capacity. The right to religion and language will also have to be central in any human rights regime. We must remember that the debate on human rights in Asia is about expanding the Western notion of liberal individual rights to include economic rights and collective rights. It is not about the restriction of rights but their augmentation. 3. Denationalizing self, economy and identity: This the larger project of de-linking the idea of the nation, whether India or Pakistan, from our mental landscape and replacing it with more local—community—and global concepts, that of the planet itself. Essentially this means a rewriting of textbooks in South Asia, moving away from the neorealist real politics paradigm and toward the neohumanist educational perspective (layered inclusive identities) (Sarkar 1982). This means rewriting history as well rethinking the future. 4. Creating Peoples’ movements: Centred on bioregions and linguistic and cultural zones, that is, begin the process of rethinking the boundaries of South Asia along lines other than those that were hammered out by Indian political parties and the British in the early half of this century. This is Sarkar’s notion of samaj movements (1992). As new technologies flourish, the entire region could become an economic zone.

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5. In the meantime—along with freer trade—encourage selfreliance and localism in each bioregion. While more trade is central between nations and the economic zones, it should not be done at the expense of the local economy. This is not to say that poor quality products should be encouraged, rather on non-essential items, there should be global competition. The State should not give preferential treatment to a few businesses at the expense of others—that is, licensing only enhances feudalism. Barter trade between bioregions is one way to stop inflation. In addition, it leads to a productive cycle between regions, especially helping poorer regions increase wealth. 6. Encourage universal dimensions of the many religions and cultures of the area. While this is much easier said than done, it means that individuals have a right to religious expression with the role of the State being that of ensuring non-interference from local, national and regional leaders who desire to use religion and its strong emotive content to gain votes. 7. Develop legal structures that can ensure the respect of the rights of women, children, the aged and the environment. The latter is especially important given that environmental issues are transnational. Indeed, the disastrous climatic aftereffects of recent nuclear explosions show that the environment is a genuine global rights issue. Eventually, while this is a long way off, we need to consider the creation of an Asian International Court. 8. Transparency: Governmental decisions need to be open. Ideally, meetings should be televised. Promises made by politicians need to become legal documents so that citizens groups can initiate litigation against corruption and misinformation. The same level of transparency should be expected for corporations as well as NGOs.

CONCLUSION Our purpose has been to make past and present more porous, to use the future to rethink the past and the present. There are always many

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pasts, many presents and many futures. We need to find ways in which we can peacefully negotiate them. But it will be difficult to break from history and conventional images of the future. Deep animosities exist among South Asians. Many Indians perceive Pakistanis as double traitors, since they converted to Islam and now to a new State. At some time in history, Muslims left some Hindu sects and then finally left the nation itself. This feeling of betrayal takes time to heal and understand. For Pakistanis, far more important than national integration is the need to place faith on human rights, economic justice, on differences between themselves instead of using India as an enemy to create national unity. This type of unifying strategy is only successful in the short run. In the long run it creates an inner enemy, an inner demon, that destroys one’s mind and heart leading to the deep betrayal of civil society; a betrayal India and Sri Lanka are now discovering. Hopefully, by looking forward and by looking around, we can avoid this type of future and instead create one based on difference and unity, on creative renderings of history and of the local and the universal. This means committing ourselves to the needs and concerns of future generations, of taking policy steps, of finding theoretical frames that allow for more open pluralistic futures; futures that can then be enjoyed by our children and their children, whether Pakistani, Indian, Sri Lankan, Bangladeshi, Nepalese or Bhutanese. Whatever the local identity of future generations, let us hope that they are first of all humans who happen to live in South Asia and act in ways to preserve and expand our essential humanity.

ENDNOTES 1. This story was told to me through e-mail by Acharya Maheshvarananda Avadhuta, who heard it from another monk. E-mail transmission, 1993. 2. See, for example, (Inayatullah 1998: 27–42). For this general approach, see (Foucault 1980; Shapiro and Der Derian 1980; and Walker 1993). 3. As one Pakistani professor born in the 1930s commented: ‘We are the lost generation, with no hope or vision, only the inhumanity of a world war, the bitterness of partition and the mockery of post-colonial society. We cannot create the future.’ 4. These are based on a special issue of Futures (Vol. 24, No. 9, November 1992) guest edited by Sohail Inayatullah. See, Sohail Inayatullah, ‘Introducing the Futures of South Asia’, Futures (November 1992).

72 Sohail Inayatullah 5. Precision is problematic as the future is not fixed but always being created. Agency exists! 6. India’s exports are set to reach the 93 billion US$ mark (they were 18.5 billion in 1991/92). http://indiaonestop.com/tradestatistics.htm. 7. Lee Kuan Yew has made a case for this possibility. But to achieve this vision, there needs to be land reform, and then technology and investment from an external dynamo (perhaps Southeast Asia), complemented with a long-term focus on technical education (and not the hereafter), as well as consensus politics (1992: 2). 8. For a series of essays that develop this perspective by authors such as Zia Sardar, Ashis Nandy, and Susantha Goonatilake, see Yogesh Atal and Eleonora Masini (eds) 1994. The Futures of Asian Cultures. Bangkok: UNESCO. 9. South Korea is leading the way with the setting up with the Creative Industries sector—video, computer/net gaming, for example.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Ahmad, Q.K. 1990. ‘South Asia: Economic Growth and Human Development with Equity, Security and Sustainability—National and Regional Perspectives’, Unpublished research paper. ————–. 1992. ‘Policies and Strategies for Sustainable Development in Bangladesh’, Futures, 24(9): 879–94. Ahmed, Imtiaz. 2005. ‘Futures Beyond Nationalism’, Futures (Special issue), 27(l): 905–24. Ariyaratne, A.T. 1990. ‘A Society Based on Eternal Laws’, unpublished research paper. Available online at http://www.sarvodaya.org. Atal, Yogesh and Eleonora Masini (eds). 1994. The Futures of Asian Cultures. Bangkok: UNESCO. Chakravorty, Shivani Banerjee. 1992. ‘Can Women Change the Future?’, Futures, 24(9): 938–41. Galtung, Johan. 1992. ‘On the way to Superpower Status: India and the EC Compared’, Futures, 24(9): 917–30. Gurung, Barun. 1992. ‘Towards Sustainable Development: A Case in the Eastern Himalayas’, Futures, 24(9): 907–16. Inayatullah, Chaudry. 1992. ‘Creating Order Without Law and Justice: An Elusive Chase’. Paper prepared for the Pakistan Social Science Forum. Inayatullah, Sohail. 1990. ‘Why Khomeni Wants Rushdie Dead: Understanding the Postmodern World’, Third Text, 11: 91–98. Inayatullah, Sohail. 1990. ‘Deconstructing and Reconstructing the Future’, Futures, 22(2): 115–41. ————–. (guest editor). 1992. ‘The Futures of South Asia’, Futures, 24(9): 851–955.

Distant Futures and Alternative Presents for South Asia 73 Inayatullah, Sohail. 1992. ‘Images of Pakistan’s Future’, Futures, 24(9): 867–78. ————–. 1992. ‘Introducing the Futures of South Asia’, Futures, 24(9): 851–57. ————–. 1998. ‘Imagining an Alternative Politics of Knowledge: Subverting the Hegemony of International Relations in Pakistan’, Contemporary South Asia, 7(1): 27–42. ————–. 2002. Understanding Sarkar: The Indian Episteme, Macrohistory and Transformative Knowledge. Leiden: Brill. ————–. (ed.) 2004. The Causal Layered Analysis Reader. Tamsui: Tamkang University Press. ————–. 2006. Questioning the Future. Tamsui: Tamkang University Press. Joshi, Nandini. 1992. ‘Women Can Change the Future’, Futures, 24(9): 931–37. Krishna, Sankaran. 1992. ‘Oppressive Pasts and Desired Futures: Re-imagining India’, Futures, 24(9): 858–66. Foucault, Michel. 1980. Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings, 1972–1977. Edited by Colin Gordon. New York: Pantheon Books. Lamm, Richard. 1985. Megatraumas: America at the Year 2000. Boston: Hougton Mifflin. Mukherjee, Andy. 2006. ‘India Can’t Afford to Waste Its Demographic Bonus’, International Herald Tribune, January 18. Nandy, Ashis (ed.). 1990. Science, Hegemony and Violence. Delhi: Oxford University Press. ————–. 1998. ‘Bearing Witness to the Future’, in Sohail Inayatullah and Paul Wildman (eds), Futures Studies: Theories, Methods and Civilizational Visions. CD-Rom. Brisbane: Prosperity Press. Nielsen, Joyce McCarl. 1990. ‘Introduction’, in Joyce McCarl Nielsen (ed.), Feminist Research Methods. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Sarkar, P.R. 1982. The Liberation of Intellect. Calcutta: Ananda Marga Publications. ————–. 1992. Proutist Economics: Discourses on Economic Liberation. Calcutta: Ananda Marga Publications. ————–. 1988–1994. PROUT in a Nutshell, Vols. 1–25. Calcutta: Ananda Marga Publications. Sardar, Zia. 1992. ‘On Serpents, Inevitability and the South Asian Imagination’, Futures, 24(10): 942–49. ————–. 1997. ‘South Asia: 50 years on’, Futures, 29(10): 883–89. Shapiro, Michael and James Der Derian (eds). 1980. International/Intertextual Relations. Cambridge, MA: Lexington Books. Sinha, B.M. 1992. ‘India Towards a Social Revolution’, Futures, 24(9): 895–906. Staff. 1991. ‘Born to Rule’, Herald, June 31–33. Walker, R.B.J. 1993. Inside/Outside: International Relations as Political Theory. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

3 Identity without Exceptionalism Challenges for Asian Political and International Studies Amitav Acharya

The area studies tradition is a double-edged sword. In a society notoriously devoted to exceptionalism and to endless preoccupation with ‘America’, this tradition has been a tiny refuge for the serious study of foreign languages, alternative worldviews and large-scale perspectives on sociocultural change outside Europe and the United States. Bedevilled by a certain tendency toward philology (in the narrow, lexical sense) and a certain overidentification with the regions of its specialization, area studies has nonetheless been one of the few serious counterweights to the tireless tendency to marginalize huge parts of the world in the American academy and American society more generally. Yet the areastudies tradition has probably grown too comfortable with its own maps of the world, too secure in its own expert practices and too insensitive to transnational processes both today and in the past. So criticism and reform are certainly in order, but how can area studies help to improve the way that world pictures are generated in the United States? (Appadurai 1996: 17)

A

sia has a growing number of policy networks, the so-called ‘epistemic communities’ on regional economic and security issues. One could point to the Pacific Economic Cooperation Council, Council for Security Cooperation in Asia Pacific, Association of South East Asian Nations (ASEAN) Institutes of Strategic and International Studies and so on. Moreover, the civil society in the region is increasingly regionalized. But the academic community on politics and international studies has yet to come

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together for regular and systematic exchanges. There is no history of political science and international studies scholars organizing themselves on an Asia-wide basis. This is in marked contrast to the situation in Europe, which has developed its own academic networks on politics and international studies. In Asia, academic networks wherever they exist, have developed on a national, rather than regional or even sub-regional basis. Asian political scientists today are more involved in North American, European and Australian political science and area studies associations than in developing any similar pan-Asian forum. At the outset, let me pose two questions. The first is whether or to what extent an Asian Political and International Studies Association (APISA) should promote the ‘Asianization’ of Asian political and international studies. This is a familiar if rhetorical concern for anyone seeking to set up regional associations of this nature anywhere. My own answer to this question will depend on what we mean my Asianization. If by Asianization, we mean securing greater participation by indigenous scholars in research, teaching and debates in various related fields, then we ought to embrace it strongly. Similarly, we must use APISA as a platform for greater Asianization of funding of political and international studies. This is imperative because social science research and networking in Asia today receives more support from foundations and government agencies from the West than from Asian foundations and donors, who seem far more eager to endow chairs at prestigious Western academic institutions than contributing to their local counterparts in Asia. But if Asianization becomes an excuse for narrowly delimiting the field, or to discourage the participation of non-Asian scholars and discussion of non-Asian (Western) ideas, then we must reject it firmly. Such Asianization, in my view, is neither feasible nor desirable. While the primary goal of APISA may well be to encourage scholars and promote institutional conditions for research and teaching within Asia, it should not exclusively be an association to benefit Asian or Asia-based scholars. While securing greater Asian participation in seminars, conferences and language studies, and generating more resources for Asian scholars are worthy goals of APISA, one should also guard against parochialism, exceptionalism and reverse ethnocentrism that the creation of a regional association of this nature

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might encourage, however inadvertently. Asianization narrowly conceived can also breed inferior quality research. For example, we should encourage more journals and monographs on politics and international studies which are published and edited in Asia, but this must not discourage Asian scholars from publishing in the West. We should not turn Asian journals into being mere outlets for work that could not be published in the West. A second question that must be raised at the outset is whether the proposed APISA should concentrate on the political and international studies of Asia, without also encouraging the study of politics and international studies in Asia? I note from the programme that the organisers clearly have the latter in mind. But one should pay some attention to this question, because the vast majority of political scientists and international relations scholars living and working in Asia happen to be specialists on the region. It will be unfortunate if APISA is to neglect those, however small in number, who study the outside world from their vantage points in Asia. APISA should be as much an association of Asia-based scholars who specialize on politics and international studies in general, as of those (whether Asia- or outside-based) who are specialists on the politics and international relations of the region. Having made the case for a broad-based association, I now turn to the main intellectual and institutional challenges facing political and international studies scholars of, and in, Asia. My goal here is not to offer any solutions to these challenges. Rather, I hope to begin a debate that could be important to progress toward such an association.

THE CHALLENGE OF DIVERSITY: DOES ASIA EXIST? First, can we make meaningful associations of academic minds working on the politics and international relations of Asia in the face of its obvious and immense diversity? Doubts about an Asian identity might have played its part in discouraging the development of an Asian political and international studies association in the past. Writing in 1962 about Asia in the Balance, Michael Edwardes, a British commentator, asserted: ‘Asia does not exist, except in atlases

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and in the simple minds of strategic planners’, (1962: 14). More recently, French scholar Francois Godemont in his The New Asian Renaissance, pointed out that ‘The words ‘Asia’ and ‘the East’ are loaded terms from a fantasy seemingly woven from a Baudelaire poem, a melody by Ravel, a short story by Somerset Maugham and a James Ivory film’ (1997: 4). The concept of Asia has been attacked because it was a mere Western invention, and because unlike Europe, Asia has no cultural and civilizational coherence and unity. It is also attacked on political grounds, as in the case of the debate over ‘Asian Values’, which critics saw, with some justification, as a pretext for authoritarianism. (In another time, in another context, claims about an Asian identity would have been construed as liberating; it was part of the anti-colonial lore of Asian nationalists such as Nehru, the convener of the Asian Relations Conference in 1947, and no ‘tinpot’ dictator himself.) Not all scholars see Asia’s diversity as an intractable barrier to meaningful academic discourse. The modern concept of Asia might have been a product of the ‘Vasco da Gama Age’, ushered by the agents of the Portugese maritime empire who ‘touched upon the many diverse peoples from Indians at Goa, Sinhalese at Colombo, Malays at Malacca right round to the Chinese at Macao’, and ‘tended to see them all as “Asians”’ (Fitzerald 1969: 410). But it is easy to forget that claims about an Asian identity once held considerable appeal among the region’s nationalist elite. In 1959, for example, Guy Wint wrote that ‘Today, the literate people of nearly all Asian countries feel, along with many other sentiments, a sense of belonging to the Asian continent, and therefore of having some kind of interest common to one another’ (Cited in Edwardes 1962: 12). The political concept of Asia might have faded since, replaced by more economistic and strategic notion of Pacific Rim or Asia-Pacific. But Muthiah Alagappa, no simple-minded strategic planner or analyst, defends the use of the concept of ‘Asia’ in academic analysis. In his view, the lack of agreement over its meaning notwithstanding, the term Asia has become ‘entrenched both in the West and in Asia’ and has ‘acquired an indigenous quality in Asia’ (Alagappa 1998: 3). The notion of Asia should be a justifiable concept for an academic organization, but not for sentimental reasons. It is justifiable, instead, because of the existence of broad patterns of political, economic and

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strategic developments and interactions (both inter-state and transnational) across Asia, which an association could reflect and build upon. Historical examples of Asia-wide interactions include the precolonial Asian trading system extending from India to China, and the continuous flow of religious, cultural and political ideas between India, Southeast Asia and China. Nationalism and decolonization in the 1940s and 1950s were an Asia-wide pattern as was the breakdown of post-colonial experiments in democracy in the 1960s and 1970s (although the causes might have varied from sub-region to sub-region, or country to country). Regionalist movements in the 1950s and 1960s were pan-Asian in aspiration. Today, a pan-Asian network operates at the level of civil society, even as the governments of the region cooperate on more exclusionary sub-regional basis. A quick look at NGO offices in Bangkok reveals the participation of all three sub-regions. APISA should see itself as a part of this transnational civil society in Asia. An association that brings together specialists on Asia’s three main sub-regions can thrive by exploiting their abundant commonalities and complementarities. For example, collaborative research between scholars from South and Southeast Asia could be valuable for the study of Islam. Institutional linkages between the three sub-regions could be especially beneficial for foreign language teaching. Indeed, some of the most exciting and innovative research projects in Asian political and international studies in recent years have been undertaken on an Asia-wide basis. Examples include Alagappa’s edited volumes on civil-military relations and security practice (Alagappa 1998; Alagappa 2001), and a Ford Foundation supported project on ‘Non-Traditional Security in Asia’ that brought together academic institutions from South Asia, Southeast Asia (Institute of Defence and Strategic Studies [IDSS]) and Northeast Asia.

AREA STUDIES VERSUS THE DISCIPLINE Even if we agree that APISA should not be an association exclusively of specialists on Asia, the fact remains that the vast majority of scholars who will be its members are likely to be Asian specialists on Asia. Hence, the debate between what David Ludden (1998: 1) of the

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University of Pennsylvania has called ‘universal disciplinary knowledge’ and ‘area-specific, inter-disciplinary knowledge’, is relevant to efforts to chart the course for the association. It is not my purpose to replicate this quintessentially American debate in Asia. But as Winichakul (AAS 1997: 7), points out, the debate has implications beyond the US and is a helpful starting point for identifying some of the challenges facing an Asian Political and International Studies Association. Area studies is distinguished by multi-disciplinarity, emphasis on field research, and, above all, life-long devotion to studying a nation or region. A disciplinary approach, by contrast, seeks to identify ‘awful regularities, which, by definition, must not be context bound’ (Bates, 1997: 166). Discipline-based scholars aspire to be social scientists, who ‘do not seek to master the literature on a region, but rather to master the literature of a discipline’ (Bates 1997: 166). In the US, area studies was conceived in the post-World War II period as a way of identifying America’s ‘next’ enemies. It evolved more as a response to the ‘Sputnik’ than to sentimental curiosities about Balinese dance. The end of the Cold War thus deprived area studies of its strategic rationale. Taking full advantage of this situation are the proponents of formal theory (especially rational choice) in American academia. Formal theorists see the primary function of area studies to be the provision of raw data for theory testing. Area specialists have been attacked by discipline-based scholars for being little more than ‘“real estate agents” with a stake in a plot of land rather than an intellectual theory’. Their work has been described variously as ‘a-theoretical’, ‘journalistic’, and ‘mushy’. They are faulted for not knowing statistics, for ‘offering resistance to rigorous methods for evaluating arguments’, for not generating ‘scientific knowledge’ and for being ‘cameras’, rather than ‘thinkers’ (Shea 1997: A12–A13). In contrast, disciplinary social science was seen, in the words of the former President of the Social Science Research Council David Featherman, as being more ‘universally applicable and globally useful’ (Cited in Ludden 1998: 2). There are many reasons why one must reject the criticism of area studies by discipline-oriented scholars (See AAS 1997). Especially pertinent is James Scott’s warning that purely disciplinary approaches centred on formal theory would fail to illuminate ‘real societies and

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the conduct of historically situated human agents’ (AAS 1997: 2). On the other hand, one cannot ignore the ‘a-theoretical’ nature of traditional area studies. Asia has been noticeably inhospitable to any theory, not just the rational choice variety. Among students of comparative politics in Asia, attempts to develop and engage even the so-called mid-range theories popular with their Western counterparts have been sparse. In international relations, theoretical work has been dreaded and despised. Across Asia, the mere mention of the word ‘theory’ is sure to induce panic attacks in the classrooms. A chief reason for this, in my view, is the persisting ethnocentrism or Americanocentrism of Western domestic or international political theory. The irony here is that while ‘area’ in the US has traditionally meant areas besides the US, ‘theory’ in the US has meant the distinctive experiences of Euro-North Atlantic countries (Acharya 2000; Alagappa 1998: 9). Ethnocentrism, whether deliberate or inadvertent, can lead to alienation; defined as feeling estranged or lacking a sense of belonging. Aversion to, or rejection of theory is commonplace in Asia because scholars often ‘find the great debates and theoretical breakthroughs . . . (of their discipline) taking place with complete disregard for the totality of world culture—especially of their own (Acharya 2000: 1). A second reason for the lack of interest in theory is what Benedict Anderson (1984: 43–44) has called the ‘proximity to power’ enjoyed by academics in the region. While Anderson referred to indigenous Southeast Asian scholars then, this can be applied to the whole of Asia now. Today, this proximity to power is reflected in the abundance of policy-oriented and policy-relevant (the two are different) research, which in turn inhibits the need for, and interest in, theoretical work. How do we address this situation? Or should we address it? Increasingly many scholars in Asia recognize the need to move beyond a traditional area studies approach, although I doubt that very many of them are seduced by the rational choice bandwagon in the US. A shift is useful and essential for coping with the national and sub-regional diversity of Asia and because of the challenges posed by globalization, a subject I will discuss later. How to go about theorizing Asian political and international studies? Alagappa (1998: 9) suggests one path when he points out that

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‘Asia is fertile ground to debate, test, and develop many of these (Western) concepts and competing theories, and to counteract the ethnocentric bias.’ While I agree with this observation, I also see this as a partial response to the challenge we face. The problem of ethnocentrism will not disappear by using the Asian empirical record primarily to ‘test’ available North Atlantic theories. This will merely reinforce the image of area studies as little more than provider of ‘raw data’ to American theory, whether rationalist or postrationalist. Scholars in Asia, especially younger scholars, if and when they see the need for theoretical construct, often turn instinctively to American theoretical debates first. When there is a misfit between their empirical observations and American theory, we see some revision or modification of that particular theory. But the terms of the modification are already decided by American debates and modelling. This inhibits independent and creative analysis of Asian patterns and trends. It also leads to questionable generalizations, such as the image of Asia as a ‘dangerous place’, or the claim that the Asian world-view and the Asian pattern of international relations are quintessentially realist. This has perhaps less to do with reality than to the state of theoretical play in America from which Asian writers, as most other writers about Asia, derive their assumptions and models. Such dependence also means that patterns of interactions in Asia which lie outside of the theoretical debates in the USA or North Atlantic are seldom recognized or analysed. Creative theoretical work requires that these patterns must be highlighted and generalized from, on their own terms, whether or not they fit a particular American model. Moreover, Asian scholars could derive original theoretical insights from the work of Asian political thinkers, both classical and modern. We should look into the minds of Kautilya and Confucius and not just Machiavelli and Marx. Similarly, we ought to seek theoretical insights from Nehru or Sukarno just as Western theorizing has drawn from Woodrow Wilson and Henry Kissinger. Theoretical work based on Asian dynamics and Asian thought might give APISA a rationale and an identity, but it should be done without exceptionalism and parochialism, the twin dangers present in any efforts at collective identity-building.

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EXCEPTIONALISM AND PAROCHIALISM: ARE ASIANS THAT MUCH DIFFERENT? When confronted with the ethnocentrism of Western disciplinary concepts, Asian studies scholars have often responded with exceptionalism and parochialism. Exceptionalism is the tendency among scholars to reify and essentialize shared characteristics and relationships to counter and exclude outsiders’ perspectives. Exceptionalism is a poor and sometimes dangerous basis for scholars to organize themselves. Claims of exceptionalism, whether individual or collective, national or regional, often do not stand up to rigorous scholarly scrutiny. They shut the door to genuine ideational intercourse between the global and the regional or between regions. Even more importantly, academic exceptionalism is vulnerable to governmental abuse. This is a point made by the critics of the ‘Asian Values’ concept, which they see as an ideology of authoritarianism in Asia. Asian governments have used an exceptionalist framework, the ‘ASEAN Way’, to slow down progress towards more institutionalized multilateral political and security cooperation in the region. Exceptionalism can be a powerful tool to resist change, whether it is a call for freedom over repression or cooperation over realpolitik. Asian scholars of Asian studies, along with their counterparts in the West, are also responsible for a parochialism which is manifested in their reluctance to recognize the importance of scholarly studies of regional trends or patterns undertaken from a discipline-based theoretical perspective. Asian studies associations and conventions in US, Canada, Australia are thoroughly dominated by scholars from the humanities such as history, geography and anthropology. These scholars often dismiss works on Asian international relations and security issues that engages the literature of the discipline, rather than just the literature of the region only. While area specialists in America justifiably complain of discrimination in the hands of discipline-based scholars, they also routinely look down upon writings on regions undertaken by the latter. The debate over area studies in the US has ended in stalemate and compromise rather than the outright defeat of area studies, as some had initially expected or even hoped for. Advocates of area studies were sufficiently persuasive for even the pro-discipline

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Social Science Research Council to accept the need for combining the universality of social science with the area specificity of the humanities, in a framework that came to be called ‘context-sensitive social science’ (Ludden 1998: 4). Even one of the hardest opponents of area studies, Harvard’s Robert Bates (1997), has called for developing ‘analytic narratives’ that marries ‘local knowledge’ with rational choice theory. Bates proposes that formal models, such as rational choice approaches, could be applied to study cultural distinctions which lie at the core of area studies. On the opposite end, scholars have called for the use of ‘local knowledge’, such as cultural variables, to illuminate the sources of ‘rational’ state interests and preferences. This has been a key claim of constructivism in the study of foreign policy and international relations, which, under the hegemony of neorealism and neoliberalism, assumed, rather than investigated state preferences. APISA members should strive for their own compromise without mimicking American debates or turning Asia into a mere test-bed of American theory. At least some of them should attempt the opposite, developing general insights and constructs from the Asian experience to explain events and phenomena in the outside world. After all, if European and North Atlantic regional politics could be turned into international relations theory, why not Asian regional politics? Benedict Anderson’s work on nationalism and James Scott’s work on resistance offers important examples of how ‘local knowledge’ can be turned into definitive frameworks for analysing global processes. One could also think of similar contributions from other disciplines, such as anthropologist Edmund Leach’s Political Systems of Highland Burma (1954) which is now used to underscore fluid notions of ethnic identity. There are many other aspects of Asian politics and international relations that offer opportunities for similar efforts. For example, studies of Asian regional institution-building, which has received increasing attention lately, is a rich source of generalizations about the process dynamics of regional and international cooperation (Acharya 2001). It is possible to make important contributions to the study of global phenomena from a regional vantage point without being unduly exceptionalist. European international relations scholarship offers is a good example of how this can be done. In international

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relations, we have the ‘English School’ (on international society) and the ‘Copenhangen School’ (on security-identity nexus). Asia can claim no distinctive perspective on politics and international relations. We do not have a New Delhi, or a Tokyo or a Bangkok School. A partial exception might be the ‘Singapore School’ once associated with the ‘Asian Values’ concept, but its distinctiveness was more in the policy arena than as a contribution to a theory of politics. Many of the Europeans schools are important counters to dominant US perspectives, the English School against American rationalist-realist scholarship, the Copenhagen school against American realism and American constructivism. They have challenged Americanocentrism without falling into the trap of exceptionalism. The development of similar perspectives in Asia is an important challenge to the proposed association. Broadening the area studies approach is important not just because of the dangers of parochialism and exceptionalism, but also because of the need to respond to another powerful challenge to academia in general, the challenge of globalization.

THE CHALLENGE OF GLOBALIZATION: FROM ‘SUBORDINATE SYSTEMS’ TO ‘REGIONAL WORLDS’ What is the rationale for a regional academic network when the idea of ‘region’ is under attack from the myriad forces of globalization? Globalization is too unspecific and contested a concept to serve as a definitive benchmark for setting the agenda for academic discourse and organization. We need to adopt a more specific notion of globalization, focussing, for example, on capital, labour or cultural flows, to meaningfully consider its impact on regionness and regional identity. While we can disagree about the meaning of globalization and debate whether it is undermining the nation state, there is less doubt as to its impact in rendering the region less distinctive. In a powerful summary of the challenge posed by globalization, Willa Tanabe (Undated, 3–4) writes: Area study scholars perhaps failed to recognize the importance of global forces because they misconstrued the geography of cultural areas. The

Identity without Exceptionalism 85 geography of the Philippines is no longer bounded by oceans surrounding the Philippine islands; rather, we can map Filipino culture as a flow chart that includes Hong Kong, Saudi Arabia, N. Marianas and Los Angeles. We must recognize that communities and areas can be mapped in very different ways. The Thai bar girl in Tokyo and the Filipino bar girl in Palau must be examined in terms of what they have in common as part of the community of foreign workers as well as how they differ because of the local responses to foreign workers. If we see that our notion of area can no longer be a bounded system of social, national or cultural categories and that the most critical issues today are those that cross borders, then we face the question of how to recognize and reconceive the ways we do scholarship. Area studies must cross borders to remain relevant.

Globalization threatens the importance of some of the more salient traditional concerns and orientations of political and international studies of Asia. One issue is the emphasis on language studies. Even without globalization, there was a serious dearth of learning facilities for Asian languages at Asian academic institutions. It is far easier today to study Mandarin in the USA than in Thailand, to learn Bahasa Indonesia in Australia than in Singapore. Now, English has unquestionably emerged as the language of globalization. This was most powerfully demonstrated when Chinese President Jiang Zemin conducted the entire proceedings of the APEC (Asia Pacific Economic Cooperation) summit in Shanghai in October 2001 in English, rather than in Mandarin. The unfortunate consequence would be less emphasis on study of Asian languages, something APISA must resist through its own initiatives and programmes. But instead of being discouraged by globalization, the movement to set up an Asian Political and International Studies Association should draw strength from it. Globalization could help liberate politics and international studies in Asia from the remaining vestiges of Orientalism. As Donald Emmerson points out, globalization is especially beneficial to Southeast Asian Studies which has been noticeably anti-Orientalist in recent decades (Emmerson 2001: 19). To this end, James Scott credits globalization for promoting greater indigenous scholarship in Southeast Asia. As he puts it: There was a time not long ago when many Southeast Asianists in Europe and North America lived in an intellectual world confined largely to their

86 Amitav Acharya own nation or metropolitan language. Now, however, virtually every nation in Southeast Asia has a vibrant, creative scholarly community which, if anything, is producing the bulk of path-breaking work. (AAS 1997: 1)

Globalization will not spell the end of area studies. But it will induce changes in the way political science and international studies in and of Asia is defined and developed. APISA members can respond to the challenge of globalization by doing comparative research across countries and regions and by interacting more with scholars who are specialists in the theme or issue in which they themselves specialize, but who may not be specialists on the same country or region. There is increasing demand for teaching and research programmes that focus on transnational and transregional issues and challenges. Institutions in the West have responded to globalization in this vein. Some, such as the Centre for the Study of Globalization and Regionalization at the University of Warwick, have focussed on studying the causes and dynamics of globalization, especially in the political economy arena. Others, such as the gender studies centre at the University of Chicago, have studied the impact of globalization on specific social groups. But in either case, the response has been to combine the resources of both area and disciplinary scholars in order to develop new lines of enquiry. This should be instructive to Asian political scientists and international relations scholars as they come under increasing pressure to look beyond strictly Asian issues. Just as globalization has not rendered the nation-state irrelevant, it has not dampened discourses about regional identity. But it warrants going beyond the traditional conception of regions as relatively self-contained politico-cultural units. During the Cold War, political scientists used the term ‘subordinate systems’ to link regional dynamics with dominant global structures. A more appropriate way of looking at ‘region’ today would be to view them as ‘regional worlds’, coined by a University of Chicago project which encourages regional thinking about global forces without assuming the automatic dominance of the latter. As Arjun Appadorai notes: ‘all world areas now produce their own pictures of the world and not just of themselves.’ The challenge for Asian scholars should thus be to ‘recognize that areas are not just places, but are also locations for the production of other world-pictures, which also need to be part of our sense of these other worlds (AAS 1997: 6)’. In responding to

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the challenge of globalization, APISA members should offer regional perspectives on wider world issues, and not just concentrate on explaining Asian dynamics.

CONCLUSION Asian political and international studies scholars must simultaneously deepen their mutual bonds and widen their intellectual horizons. An association can help foster a common identity through interactions such as holding annual conventions, sponsoring panels at meetings of International Studies Association (ISA), American Political Science Association (APSA), British International Studies Association (BISA), etc., organizing language training, publishing new journals (or sponsoring existing ones) and monographs and undertaking projects to promote greater understanding of cultures and processes across national and sub-regional boundaries within Asia. At the same time, APISA members should strive to widen the intellectual horizons of ‘Asia’ and ‘Asian Studies’ in order to cope with the challenge of globalization and discipline-based approaches. To the extent that APISA is based in Asia, and the vast majority of its members are likely to be Asians specializing in Asian issues, it is imperative that we do not turn it into an inward-looking forum. While an area studies approach remains and will continue to be important (witness the demand for Middle East and Islamic Studies specialists in the wake of the September 11 terror attacks), it also needs to change its traditional colours and overcome its own parochialism and exceptionalism. Widening involves attracting an increasing number of non-specialists on the region to attend the future meetings of APISA. It calls for abandoning the mind-set that conflates Asian political and international studies with the politics and international relations of (or within) Asia. APISA should not be an association of Asian specialists on Asian studies, but should extend a welcoming hand to Asian specialists on non-Asian politics and area studies and non-Asian specialists on Asian studies. Meeting this challenge of building identity without exceptionalism, should be a worthy goal of an Asian political and international studies association.

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Acknowledgements This article is excerpted from the text of the author’s keynote address to the inaugural meeting of the Asian Political and International Studies Association (APISA), held in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia on 1–2 November 2001. The author served as the founding co-President of APISA. He would like to thank Paul Evans, Don Emmerson and especially the late Ananda Rajah for their comments on the subject of the article.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Acharya, Amitav. 2000. ‘Ethnocentrism and Emancipatory IR Theory’, in Samantha Arnold and J. Marshall Beier (eds), (Dis)Placing Security: Critical Evaluations of the Boundaries of Security, pp. 1–18. Toronto: Centre for International and Security Studies, York University. ————–. 2001. Constructing a Security Community in Southeast Asia: ASEAN and the Problem of Regional Order. London and New York: Routledge. Alagappa Muthiah (ed.). 1998. Asian Security Practice: Material and Ideational Perspectives. Stanford: Stanford University Press. ————–. 2001. Coercion and Governance: The Declining Political Role of the Military in Asia. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Anderson, Benedict. 1983. Imagined Communities. Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. London: Verso. ————–. 1984. ‘Politics and their Study in Southeast Asia’, in Ronald A. Morse (ed.), Southeast Asian Studies: Options for the Future, pp. 42–45. Washington, DC: The Wilson Center. Appadurai, Arjun. 1996. Modernity at Large: Cultural Dimensions of Globalization. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Association for Asian Studies. 1997. ‘The Future of Asian Studies’, Viewpoints. (Contributions from Jim Scott, Bruce Cummings, Elizabeth Perry, Harry Harootunian, Arjun Appadurai, Andrew Gordon, Thongchai Winichakul) Ann Arbor, Michigan. Bates, Robert H. 1997. ‘Area Studies and the Discipline: A Useful Controversy?’, PS: Political Science and Politics, 30(2): 166–69. Edwardes, Michael. 1962. Asia in the Balance. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books. Emmerson, Donald K. 2001. ‘Realm, Guild and Home: Situating Southeast Asian Studies’, in Anthony Reid (ed.), Southeast Asian Studies for the 21st Century (forthcoming). Fitzerald, C.P. 1969. ‘Pan-Asianism’, in Guy Wint (ed.), Asia Handbook, pp. 409– 17. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books.

Identity without Exceptionalism 89 Godemont, Francois. 1997. The New Asian Renaissance: From Colonialism to the Cold War. London: Routledge. Leach, Edmund R. 1954. Political Systems of Highland Burma: A Study of Kachin Social Structure. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Ludden, David. 1998. ‘Area Studies in the Age of Globalization’. University of Pennsylvania. Available at http: //www.sas.upenn.edu/~dludden/areast2. htm. Downloaded on 23 September 2001. Scott, James C. 1985. Weapons of the Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance. New Haven: Yale University Press. Shea, Christopher. 1997. ‘Political Scientists Clash Over Value of Area Studies’, Chronicle of Higher Education, (January): A12–A13. Tanabe, Willa. (Undated). ‘Crisis in Area Studies: An Overview Presented at the SHAPS Forum.’ Available at http: //www.hawaii.edu/movingcultures/ tanabe-crisis.html. Downloaded on 23 September 2001.

4 Our Region Their Theories A Case for Critical Security Studies in South Asia Haider K. Nizamani

INTRODUCTION

B

y rough estimates, the October 2005 earthquake in Kashmir killed more people than the decade-long militancy that has ravaged the region. While Pakistan’s official position is to make the whole of Kashmir part of Pakistan, it was unable to reach hundreds of Kashmiri villages under its administration while ordinary people there awaited the wrath of the cold winter following the devastating quake. India is hesitant to demilitarize the area under its administration citing a long history of troubled ties with Pakistan. Islamabad has deferred to buy F-16 planes from the US, but it rules out any significant reduction in its defence budget and divert those resources to rebuild over 7,000 educational institutions destroyed in Pakistaniadministered Kashmir.1 All this is a result of the worldview of state-managers and strategic analysts who steer the nation-building and nation-securing efforts underway in much of South Asia for well over half a century now. In the process, some conceptual lenses have been used so frequently and adhered to so strictly that they have assumed the status of omnipresent truths and only ways to conceptualize and act upon the world. The result is Ayesha Siddiqa’s observation in this volume that ‘due to the larger strategic community’s affinity with the official circuit, debates have generally followed the official line’. This article aims at bringing forth some of the salient features of those prevalent frameworks, provides a critique of their limitations

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and at the end makes a case for improvizing the insights of the Critical Security Studies framework for the South Asian region (Krause 1997). My emphasis will be on making the case of utility of discourse analysis and employing methods of political economy of power relations as a way out from the conceptual dead-end that marks much of the international relations theorizing in our region. I agree with Shibasish Chatterjee’s assertion (in this volume) that ‘it is extremely unlikely that either a particular theory completely fails to explain a case or explains it so exhaustively so as to settle the problem once and for all’. But I am reluctant to share the assumption that ‘of the various kinds of conflicts one comes across South Asia, only one seems to fit into the classical mode of IR. For students of IR, India’s conflict with Pakistan is an archetypal model of inter-state rivalry, leading to war and endemic insecurity between the two states’. This is problematic as by classical mode here is meant Political Realism, which is only one of the classical traditions attributed to International Relations, and my argument is that even it does not apply adequately on Indo-Pak relations as an explanatory tool. While Chatterjee credits Alexander Wendt for ‘perhaps the most promising alternative research agenda in the field’ because of his constructivist model, I am more inclined to explore the utility of improvized critical theory tools as a more productive alternative to existing sterile Political Realism in various garbs. The first part of this chapter critically evaluates theoretical considerations that bear on the majority of writings of Indian and Pakistani authors on security issues. Political realism holds sway over the conceptual lenses of this field. Although scholars have criticized the limited applicability of its assumptions in the Third World context, most of writings by Indian and Pakistani authors have largely remained immune to these currents. The second part looks critically at an identifiable subfield in the security studies dealing with the Third World security problématique. The approaches claiming to be ‘new’, ‘bring the state back in’ and look inside its workings to analyse the security policies of the Third World countries. Their answer to ‘theoretical disarray’ is that there are two types of states in the international system, that is, the strong states and the weak states, and each is qualitatively different from the other when it comes to security policy-making. I question the usefulness of these approaches

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by evaluating difficulties attached to their operationalization. The third part of the chapter delineates some aspects of the discourse analysis as a means to creatively understand and analyse what are presented as national security policies in South Asia.

THEIR THEORIES, OUR PROPONENTS In the heyday of the Cold War, diehard communists in the subcontinent were derided for wearing parkas on hot and humid summer afternoons because the weather in Moscow demanded such a dress. It signified the dependence of one section of Indian or Pakistani societies on the intellectual categories devised in the West, but sold to the rest in the name of universalism. The situation even today is not very different in the realm of activities and studies conducted in the name of international relations and security studies in much of South Asia, majority of whom are under the spell of tenets of political realism. Given the power-centric and policy-oriented nature of modern security studies, scholars from today’s sole superpower have dominated the subfield and their works have mainly reflected temporal interests of the American state (Smith 1989: 3–27; Crawford and Jarvis 2000). How are these tools (which are primarily products of American political milieu) relevant for South Asian and other Third World contexts? Is the Third World security a distinct problématique requiring a separate conceptual lens? We start our journey into theory land of South Asian security studies with a brief overview of the assumptions of ‘neorealism’ as it is the leading lens of many of our home-grown intellectuals. This is followed by a critique of neorealist assumptions by the new models presented as an alternative conceptual lens to explain the Third World security problématique. It is stating the obvious to observe that theoretical activity in International Relations is overwhelmingly West-centric where the only theoretical ripples created by the non-Western world was in the form of the Dependency perspective in the 1970s. The waters were settled again by cautiously giving this framework its due place, that is, on the margins. Not surprisingly, dependency framework made no inroads in Pakistani writings on international relations.

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Traditional security analysts of the West, until quite recently, wanted to remain immune to the changes taking place in the world ‘out there’ in order to retain the simplicity that came with theoretical parsimony of neorealism. The first major unsettling effect on this strand of security studies was the peaceful demise of the Soviet Union. With the second world gone, the rationale for the separateness of Third World studies became questionable rendering the very usage of the term ‘Third World’ into patchy waters.2 Eruption of a plethora of intra-state conflict in the Third World and the changed circumstances made some scholars of traditional security studies make distinct security problématique of the Third World as the focus of their studies (Ayoob 1995; Buzan 1991: 431–51; Job 1992). The theoretical disarray in IR that Kal Holsti observed in 1985 remained unsettled as the search for a reigning paradigm in the Kuhnian sense still remains an ‘elusive quest.’ That said, neorealist theoretical assumptions have dominated the subfield of security studies and continue to be the main lens for majority of South Asian writings on security issues (Chatterjee in this volume). In contrast to traditional Realism, termed ‘reductionism’ by Waltz, in which international outcomes are explained through elements located at the national or sub-national level, neorealism emphasizes the factors at play at the international level, that is, the systemic forces, structure in the Waltzian sense, that states are subjected to. Structure in this scheme refers to two things. One, it is a compensating device that works to produce a uniformity of actions despite different inputs; two, it is a set of constraining conditions (Waltz 1993: 72). Since anarchy is considered the defining feature of the international system, the dictum of self-help is the only guiding principle for state actions. In such a system, cooperation is hampered by the dictum of ‘relative gains’ which guides states in coping with other units in the system.3 A study of the causes of war and conditions of peace comes close to what can be termed the research agenda guiding the majority of intellectual endeavours in IR. The neorealists argue that peace— understood in terms of the absence of a major war among great powers—in the post-World War II era has prevailed because of the bipolar international system and advent of nuclear weapons as a mean to deter the enemy (Waltz 1993: 43–47). The effectiveness of nuclear

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weapons in ensuring peace between the two superpowers during the Cold War was almost taken as an article of faith among realists.4 What made nuclear weapons qualitatively different from other weapon systems? If these weapons can lead to peace between the enemies in the Western world, can they have a similar effect in the non-Western world? These questions continue to cause enraged debate among South Asianists. With ‘security’ as the key objective in a system of self-help, every state pursues deterrence policies best suited to its circumstances. ‘Security’, like most terms used in IR, is an ephemeral concept. Realists minimally define it as ‘the protection of the homeland from military attack’ whereas deterrence means to stop someone from doing something by frightening them.5 Waltz argues that ‘deterrence is not a theory. Instead, deterrence policies derive from structural theory.’6 The stabilizing role of nuclear weapons is due to the ‘political effects’ their introduction has produced on statecraft (Jervis 1988: 80–90). Given their immense destructive capacity which can be inflicted in a very short span of time, the use of force between two nuclear powers lies in preventing the outbreak of war rather than the traditional preoccupation with winning the war (Ibid.). This make nuclear weapons effective deterrents. Since the costs of risking a nuclear retaliation are very high, ‘states are not likely to run major risks for minor gains’ (Sagan and Waltz 1995: 5). In a world of conventional weapons, according to Waltz, adversaries often resorted to war usually due to miscalculations. Nuclear weapons make deterrence transparent because one is uncertain about surviving or being annihilated (Ibid.: 7). The certainty that the costs will invariably outweigh the gain of fighting compels nuclear powers to desist from waging the war with each other. These statements appear rational as a result of the ‘universal nature’ of the assumptions of neorealism. Taken to the logical conclusion, it is not difficult to see that the weapons system (thermonuclear) which made miscalculation next to impossible in the East-West context will serve the same purpose if applied in the context of the non-Western world. At this point, fundamental differences emerge between a vast majority of strategic analysts of the West, specially the US, and most of their counterparts in South Asia. In the light of a close liaison between self-proclaimed objective

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analysts and the policy-makers in the respective countries, Waltz’s contention that deterrence is a policy and not a theory is worth remembering. As we shall see, the policy-prescriptions provided by most scholars are echoes of their states’ policies on the nuclear issue. Here, the same theoretical framework, that is, neorealism, often leads to contradictory suggestions. It is certainly ironic that the nuclear policy related views of the most influential modern theorist of great power politics, namely Kenneth Waltz, will find his most vocal adherents in the world of lesser powers, especially among the epistemic community of Indian and Pakistani strategic analysts. Waltz favours the spread of nuclear weapons to other countries, including Third World states, on two grounds. First, he argues that the historical evidence shows that only states with specific security needs have kept the nuclear option open. As long as the nuclear option remains an effective deterrent, they are unlikely to abandon it. This is accepted by advocates of nuclear deterrence in principle, but they argue that due to the unstable nature of regimes and leaders in the Third World, the probability of the use of nuclear weapons increases manifold in such regions. Waltz discounts this argument by maintaining that as far as rationality of the leadership is concerned, doubts about the sanity of the Third World leadership are indicative of ‘the old imperial manner’ rather than a statement of truth (Sagan 1995: 13). These two points have, in turn, become standard lines of arguments for proponents of the nuclear weapons option in South Asia. I will just draw attention to echoes of the Waltzian views in the subcontinent. Jasjit Singh, former director of the New Delhi-based Institute for Defence Studies and Analyses, outlines the survival and prosperity as India’s fundamental security goals. Bordered by declared (China) and (then) undeclared (Pakistan) nuclear weapon states, the only viable option to ensure the Indian security is through acquiring nuclear weapons (Singh 1990: 95; Subramanian 1989). The mainstream nuclear discourse in the subcontinent is heavily influenced by the Waltzian theory where contending approaches of IR have exercised little or no influence. The assumption that all states are functionally alike and the organizing principle, namely anarchy, of the international system compels them to be so are questioned both by scholars studying the Third World security issues. Scholars were increasingly pointing out

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to the distinct security problématique of the Third World and suggesting conceptual lenses to come to grips with it. The next section takes a critical look at the burgeoning sub-field of Third World security studies. However, within mainstream South Asian security analysts, it has found little resonance.

A DISTINCT THIRD WORLD SECURITY PROBLÉMATIQUE Neorealism locates the causes of war in the anarchic nature of international system and explains peace (defined in terms of absence of war between major powers) in terms of bipolarity and the introduction of nuclear weapons. Analysts concerned with the causes of war and conditions of peace in the post-colonial world argue that neorealist framework is of little explanatory value to understand the security dynamics of a world where war is mostly intra-state rather than inter-state. We in South Asia can hardly deny the observation that intra-state conflicts in the region have led to far greater number of violent deaths than the inter-state wars. Problematizing the nature of the Third World state, this perspective deviates from the second tenet of neorealism, that is, the functional similarity of all states in the international system. The result is a body of literature with two recognizable strands. First, the works which conceptualize the international system in terms of ‘strong’ and ‘weak’ states, where peace prevails in the former and the latter is the venue of contemporary societal disintegration and warfare. Buzan and Holsti are among the prominent exponents of this trend, and my analysis will focus on their works. I argue that the Buzanian model is based on a circular logic, symptomatic approach, latent ahistoricism and in some cases, the IR version of Orientalism.7 Holsti attempted to improvize the Buzanian model and raised some very important conceptual questions by offering a provocative reading of the security dilemmas of the post-colonial world. The second trait is found in the works of Mohammed Ayoob8 who emphasizes on the qualitatively different milieu in which the statebuilding process is taking place in the post-colonial world. Ayoob’s work is grounded in the historical context in which the post-colonial

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world operates. I argue there is an implicit historical determinism in his project. Let us start with the ‘weak states’ and ‘strong states’ perspective. ‘Weak state’ is a relative term and a state is denominated as such in comparison to the ‘strong state’ of the West. Given the essentially contested nature of the concept of the ‘weak state’, Third World security analysts generally perceive it as an entity containing ‘various combinations of the following characteristics’ (Holsti 1995: 331–32). First, ‘the ends or purposes of governance are contested . . . (and) the lines separating the state from civil society are blurred.’ This exacerbates regime legitimacy. Second, ‘there are two or more nations within the state.’ Of these, ‘one or more are commonly constructed as minorities not equals.’ Third, ‘the government apparatus is “captured” or held by one group, which systematically excludes others.’ Fourth, ‘the government is “captured” by a family or clan for the primary purpose of personal enrichment.’ Fifth, ‘major communal groups or ideological groups or nations identify with, or are loyal to, external states and/or societies; or significant segments of the population owe primary or exclusive loyalty to primordial groups.’ Sixth, ‘the state is incapable of delivering basic services or providing security and order for the population.’ Seventh, ‘the government relies primarily on violence, coercion, and intimidation to maintain itself in power.’ Eighth, which is considered the fundamental distinction by Holsti, ‘the state lacks legitimacy’, where the authority of the ruler is not unquestioned. Holsti argues that the post-colonial nationalist leaders’ right to rule ‘was seldom validated by elections or plebiscites’. As a result, ‘many of the new states are “weak”—not militarily, but in the sense that significant sectors of the population do not identify strongly with the post-colonial state’ (Holsti 1995: 55). This situation leads to isolation, disenfranchisement and often brutal persecution of large sections of population in these societies. Consequently, what a ‘weak state’ regime portrays as ‘national security’ priorities may not be shared by large segments of the population. Before we move to the reasons of states’ ‘weakness’ and implications of the above characteristics for analysts of security policies, let us look what is meant by a ‘strong’ state. It should not be a difficult task. Imagine something exactly opposite of the above narrative and what we have is a ‘strong’ (read Western) state. Therefore, ‘strong

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states contain characteristics opposite of those found in weak states, as well as other’ (Holsti 1995: 332). Hence, ‘in most modern industrial societies . . . there is a consensus that the purpose of the governance is to help provide “the good” life for the individual’, where power rotates among different social groups, ‘and no group faces systematic persecution or denial of civil liberties and political office’ (Ibid.: 333). Admitting total inexpertise in the workings of the Western political systems, I still take the above assertion with a pinch of salt. Even if the existing practices of the Western societies were taken as fixed givens, the discriminatory exclusion of lesbian and gay communities—that is the one group which comes immediately to mind—in the United States through systematic laws against same sex marriages are in a marked contrast with the above claim. However, the point is not to find faults with what are ideally described as ‘strong states’ characteristics. It is suffice to say that the yardstick of measuring is firmly fixed with reference to the assumed practices of the contemporary Western states.9 Threats to security and sources of security policies are said to be fundamentally different for the two types of states, that is, weak and strong. More importantly, we need to look at the reasons given by these authors to explain the relative ‘weakness’ of the post-colonial states. Buzan is of little help in this regard, because assuming the unproblematic nature of these characteristics, he concludes rather desperately that ‘whatever the reasons for the existence of weak states, their principal distinguishing feature is their high level of concern with domestically generated threats to the security of the government’ (1991: 90). Such conception, according to Simon Dalby, is a result of ‘dehistoricizing state’ in which, Buzan, ‘like other neorealists, renders them(states) permanent, tying his analysis to the structural presumptions of an unchanging anarchy and the permanence of state security problems’ (1992: 106). Holsti goes beyond just observing that regions of ‘weak and failed states’ are a prime location of war, and offers a tentative explanation of the ‘weakness’ of the post-colonial world. According to him, the modern Western states are based on two different ‘foundations of legitimacy: historic-civic (for example, France, Spain, Sweden) and “natural” (Finland, Hungary, and the Baltic states)’. In the former,

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the state moulded the modern territorial nation, and in the latter, the nation (as defined and, even created by elites) helped create the state (Holsti 1995: 327). States based on the ‘natural foundations’ refer to ‘nations based on consanguinity and/or language and religion’; as against those which are based on the principle of history and territory (contiguity) (Ibid.: 325–26). In Europe two ‘hybrid’ states, that is, Yugoslavia and Czchekoslavia, were creations of diplomats ‘not the results of some “natural” community to sovereign statehood’. These ‘fictions’ could not be turned into civic or ‘natural’ communities by seventy years of history of the iron control and ‘we are now seeing the results’ (Ibid.: 327). Third World states, according to Holsti, did not meet the ‘civic’ nor ‘natural’ criteria of state legitimacy at the time of independence (Ibid.). Such a situation arose because the ex-colonies’ claims for statehood were based primarily upon negative grounds, that is, anti-colonialism or antiSovietism, rather than on the positive achievements of a historical community and its citizenship or on the ‘natural’ bonds formed through history, consanguinity, language, and/or religion. Therefore, these ‘fictions’ (post-colonial states) ‘owe their creation more to the international community than to their own artificial communities’ (Ibid.: 329).10 My critique of the above formulation is guided by what I call the above model’s reliance on the epistemology of security orientalism, and its grand generalizations which do not necessarily accurately depict either the history or the present of all post-colonial societies. In what follows, I rely on the subcontinent’s encounter with colonialism and its post-colonial dilemmas to ascertain the relevance of the ‘weak state’ model. In defining a ‘weak state’, the approaches mix causes with effects without clearly defining the relationship.11 For example, a weak state is where the question of legitimate use of force is unresolved (an effect); and the colonial demarcation of boundaries are to be blamed for a number of problems faced by these states (a cause). Such mapping exercise is good as a categorizing tool but of a limited value as an analytical framework. This leads to the confused use of terms to overcome analytical limitations. Take Buzan’s difference between a ‘strong state’ and a ‘strong power’. Given the preponderance of coercive instruments available to many Third World states,

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Buzan considers them strong powers but weak as states. The Pakistani case is used to illustrate this problem. Here, the state is not judged on the basis of various institutions it is composed of (both coercive and co-optive), but the ‘legitimation crisis’ becomes the ultimate criterion to differentiate a ‘weak state’ from a ‘strong power’. Others echo this concern by arguing that ‘legitimacy—that authority which rests on the shared cultural identity of ruler and the ruled— is the most precious resource of any regime’ and states are ‘weak’ in the Third World because regimes there are constantly faced with legitimacy crises (Weiss and Kessler 1991: 23–24). I view this as reminiscent of the ‘development studies’ of the 1950s and 1960s, which were based upon a symptomatic approach and guided by the ideal types; that is, developed (West) and the developing (non-West) (Lewellen 1995). This crucial point needs a critical appraisal in order to make some head-way from the existing circular logic. The Pakistani state acts the way it does because it is ‘weak’, and its weakness is based upon its differences from the ‘strong’/ West. That is nothing novel if we look at the ‘modernization’ model where differences between societies of the West and the non-West were juxtaposed as difference between the ‘developed’ and the ‘underdeveloped’. The major problem with such an approach is its ahistoricity—a trait neorealism is blamed for and the ‘new’ approaches want to do away with—in which the Western societies’ present form is seen as a given to have existed in the contemporary phase over the last few centuries. As a result, categorizing states as ‘weak’ and ‘strong’ overlooks the historical contexts and amounts to comparing apples with oranges. The significance of Ayoob’s contribution lies in grappling with these limitations by emphasizing the drastically different milieu in which most of the Third World countries strive for state-formation. Rather than juxtaposing the non-West with the West, he emphasizes the context in which ‘new states’ are undergoing the state-building phase and concentrates on the process. Here he relies heavily on the work of Charles Tilly (1975) to demonstrate that the process of state formation in Western Europe was turbulent, violent and time consuming. Third World states are trying to replicate the European model within a shorter time span and amid pressure of international norms concerning democracy. This process is taking place in the context of

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a ‘highly troubled inheritance of colonialism’ (Ayoob 1995: 21–47). The primary objective of the Third World elite is ‘to reduce the deep sense of insecurity from which Third World states and regimes suffer domestically and internationally’ (Ibid.: 2–3). For a better understanding of a Third World state’s security predicament, Ayoob puts the state-building process at the centre with emphasis on four interrelated political factors. The first function in the stateformation concerns war making (elimination of external enemies) activities of an independent entity; the second function is the elimination or neutralization of internal enemies which is termed state making; the third relates to the protection of the population; and lastly extraction of resource (Tilly 1975: 3–87). This approach is a step forward in the ‘weak state’ model because it contexualizes the Third World security problematic in a global framework, and concentrates on process rather than the symptoms associated with the state-making and security policies of non-Western countries. Its emphasis on the violent and lengthy process which the national states of Western Europe had to undergo alerts us against any notion of states as fixed entities frozen in the time-frame. However, in its bid to provide us an all encompassing explanation of the security predicament, it hits the same dead end as the ‘weak state’ model on several fronts. First, attributing a wide variety of problems to the common denominator of the colonial legacy overlooks the different routes taken and the different results achieved by the post-colonial state-managers. This absolves some of the most corrupt elites of the responsibility they must share for the unpleasant outcomes in these societies which are a direct outcome of their acts rather than limits imposed by the colonial legacy. For example, the overwhelming reliance on the force by the Pakistan army to suppress the Bengali movement for autonomy ultimately turned out to be an exercise in state-destruction rather than state-building. Second, the claim that the Third World state is a late entrant in the international state system somewhat undermines the definition of what constitutes the state-building process. For example, at the time of independence, the Indian state was equipped with fairly efficient administrative and extractive apparatuses. What most of these states lacked were political authorities at the helm of affairs enjoying popular legitimacy over a population with an agreed upon political

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identity. Therefore, what is implied in the Ayoobian model by statemaking is somewhat similar to the principal element by which Buzanian model divides states into the ‘weak’ and ‘strong’, that is, the legitimacy crisis.

Rewriting South Asian Security In this section, I intend to offer a theoretical way-out in grappling with the security policies of South Asian countries by suggesting a two step strategy. First, an alternative to the prevalent state-centered conceptualization in the security studies. Second, I outline the salience of the discourse analysis and genealogical methodology to write an indeterministic account of security policies.12 Works of social and cultural theorists like Michel Foucault and Tzvetan Todorov can be of significant use to sharpen our analytical tools to meet the above objective. The ideas I discuss in this section are methodological tools which are not aimed at discovering ‘new facts’, but help us ‘in which old ones are seen in a new way’ (Booth 1997: 98). Methodological insights of Todorov and Foucault have been used by security studies scholars but hardly in the South Asian context. South Asian security analysts have explicit or implicit theories of the state which are premised upon the state/society dichotomy. Foucault, somewhat polemically, refrained from the theory of the state ‘in the sense that one abstains from an indigestible meal’(Gordon 1991: 4). Since the state has no inherent propensities or essence, the nature of the institutions of the state is a function of changes in governmental practices. The first step toward a better understanding of the South Asian security would be to do away with the state/ society dichotomy and conceptualize society as: [a]n inherently historic process, in which society is continually tearing itself apart and thereby at the same time endlessly remaking its own fabric. The activity of government, as an organic component of the evolving social bond, participates in this historic passage through a range of distant, consecutive social forms. (Ibid.: 22)

Such a conception of the society and its attendant power relations contextualizes ‘security policy’ as responses to the constant making

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and remaking dynamics of the societal fabric in which internal and external realms are fused together in a complex manner. Studying the interplay of these factors is, unlike the ‘weak state’ model, not deterministic. This method shuns the teleological tendencies of the ‘weak state’ model which implicitly suggests that ‘others are now what we were before’ (Todorov 1995: 6). It forces us to familiarize ourselves with histories of the societies in question, knowing fully well that history neither ‘obeys system, nor that its so-called laws permit deducing the future’ (Ibid.: 254). Moving beyond the theories of state becomes essential because relying on a theory of the state as the premise of conceptualization misses the point that states are never finished entities, they are constantly in need of reproduction. The constant articulation of danger through foreign policy is not a threat to a state’s identity; it is one of its condition of possibility (Campbell 1992: 42). Neither sources of the danger nor the identity which it supposedly threatens are static. They keep changing depending on ever shifting political milieu. Employing the methodology of discourse analysis neither assumes objectivity of external threats nor would reduce the security policies of the South Asian countries to the single factor explanation of internal ‘threats’. Tensions between ‘national identity’ and heterogeneous reality are ever-present because ‘no state is temporality and spatiality perfectly aligned’ (Ibid.: 144). This dilemma and efforts to resolve it remains at the heart of the security policies of all polities. Their notions of national identity and dangers to it are based upon some conception of an ‘imagined community’. The goal of negotiating and striking delicate balance between the imagined community and the reality of existing stage of heterogeneity often leads to conflict. And one common tactic of the ‘national’ discourse is to externalize the danger threatening the imagined community. But this is never a linear or evolutionary process in which heterogeneity with its attendant troubles is ultimately destined to lead toward ‘contrived monoliths’. This type of study can be conducted by taking into account the two interconnected factors. First, the ways in which dominant discourses attempt to construct a ‘national identity’ in the post-colonial period. Second, as the post-colonial era carries with it the lasting legacy

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of the subcontinent’s encounter with the European colonialism, it becomes necessary to look at some important facets of that legacy. South Asian state managers have often attempted to forge national identities by means of ‘externalizing’ dangers. Rather than sanctifying historical origins of these dangers we ought to closely examine the conditions in which some facts assume the role of truth and define rules of conduct in an issue area. Foucault has termed this as an analysis of ‘regimes of practices’ (cited in Burchell et al. 1991: 73– 86). Practices in this context are understood as places where what is said and what is done, rules imposed and reasons given, the planned and the taken for granted meet and intersect. An analysis of ‘regimes of practices’ questions how things come to be seen as natural and self-evident. Such practices do not exist without a certain regime of rationality (Ibid.: 79). Through genealogies of different ‘regimes of practices’ one tries to shake their ‘false self-evidence’ by demonstrating their precariousness ‘making visible not its arbitrariness, but its complex interconnection with a multiplicity of historical processes, many of which them (are) of recent date’ (Ibid.: 75). Critical appraisal of security discourse will help us to unravel the subjectivity of statements which are presented as objective truths. The myth of objectivity regarding ‘truth’ is challenged by conceiving truth ‘as a thing of this world: it is produced only by virtue of multiple forms of constraint’ (Ibid.). Foucault insisted upon sociocultural limitations and specifications of statements circulated as truths. He suggested: Each society has its regime of truth, its ‘general politics’ of truth: that is, the types of discourse which it accepts and makes function as true; the mechanisms and instances which enable one to distinguish true and false statements, the means by which each is sanctioned; the techniques and procedures accorded value in the acquisition of truth; the status of those who are charged with saying what counts as true. (Ibid.: 73)

Seen in this context, security policies of India and Pakistan can be meaningfully seen as political practices central to the constitution, production, and maintenance of their national identities. The postcolonial South Asian societies were left to contrive a new selfidentity amid contending versions of self-hood. Study of these processes acknowledges the specifity of individual cases and avoids any grand explanations. To paraphrase Ayesha Jalal, to contrive

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monolith identities in hybrid societal realities plays a pivotal role in what we call the security policy of either India or Pakistan (Jalal 1995: 201–46). For proponents of dominant discourse in Pakistan, the self implies an identity based upon Islam as a unifying religion and Urdu as the national language of the country. Heterogeneous societal reality asserts itself to defy such ‘national identity’. Dynamics of these contradictions enmesh ‘internal’ and ‘external’ in two ways. On the one hand, by portraying India as a ‘danger’ to the Pakistani identity-read Urdu and Islam-India is projected as a monolithic Hindu entity primarily interested in destroying Pakistan. Therefore, any ‘internal’ resistance to the national identity based upon Urdu or Islam as the sole defining factors is interpreted as doings of India. This scheme denies the fact that where there is a use of power (which is often coercive) to forge an identity, resistance to it is immanent in the process. This denial results in marginalizing, isolating, and in some cases violent suppression of movements or voices which do not fall in the orbit of the dominant lore about ‘national identity’. In this triad, the internal dissent is invariably tied to the external enemy. A Pathan secessionist becomes an Afghan agent, and a Sindhi separatist an Indian agent. The same can be said of India in its relations with Pakistan. The latter is equated with difference. Difference is equated with ‘theocracy’ as compared with the ‘plural secular’ basis of India. These Pakistani characteristics become a danger to the ‘Indian identity’. Kashmiri militancy is attributed to the malicious designs of Pakistan rather than resistance to the failure of ‘Indian identity’ to correspond with the Kashmiri reality.

CONCLUSION: OUR POLICIES IN LIGHT OF ‘THEIR’ THEORIES In light of ‘their’ theories privileging the notion of ill-defined and monolithic ‘national interests’ at the expense of accommodating societal heterogeneity of South Asia is likely to persist in the foreseeable future. Little scrutiny is done in academic IR of South Asia to analyze how these interests are defined and whose purposes they serve. Ubiquity of the ‘nation’ and its permanence is inevitably challenged by fluidity of the nature of ‘dangers’ and impermanence of

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friends and foes. Dominant neorealist versions are conceptually ill-equipped to account for and explain such shifts adequately. As in the post-9/11 period the danger in Pakistan according to the dominant discourse has veered towards ‘terrorism’ with its internal and external manifestations. In India’s changing parameters of national security discourse the US has subtly, but at times blatantly, emerged as a reliable friend. Can we simply take assertions of Pervez Musharraf and Jaswant Singh at face value that these changes were warranted by pliable notions of ‘national interests’? This essay argues that IR academics in South Asia rather echoing policymakers’ assertions should subject these to critical scrutiny. Traditional IR lenses are unlikely to be of great use in this regard for the following reason. It is no coincidence that traditional IR as an academic discipline has largely been US-centric and while its theories have been pitched as universal truths they mainly reflect interests and ideas of the dominant discourse in of the US (Crawford and Jarvis 2000). This chapter has outlined and discussed theoretical limits of ‘their’ theories for explaining ‘our’ realities. Such limitations often tempt one to come up with unique frameworks that are exclusive to ‘our’ world. We should exercise utmost caution to avoid this conceptual fallacy as it would amount to what Partha Chatterjee call ‘oriental exceptionalism.’13 The tendency to hope, search, and devise unique conceptual lenses would put us on yet another path of ‘elusive quest’. A more fruitful and productive way-out lies in improvizing and synthesizing insights of Critical International Relations Theory and Subaltern Studies to analyse issues that are of concern to security analysts of South Asia. In this chapter I have sketched out some of these conceptual lines. We need more focussed and rigorous case studies employing lenses hitherto thought of falling outside purview of traditional IR.

ENDNOTES 1. The daily Dawn reported Pakistan’s minister of education giving the figure of 7000 schools destroyed in Kashmir and 8000 in northern NWFP by the quake. http://www.dawn.com/2005/11/15/top7.htm (accessed on November 15, 2005) 2. The term Third World is an elusive term like many others used in International Security Studies field. It has somewhat of a negative connotation to

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3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

12.

denote of variety of countries across the globe. The principle of elimination was used to define Third World. Politically it meant those countries which were neither part of the NATO nor the Warsaw Pact during the cold war. Economically, it applied to countries where industrialization has occurred later than the Western world. Geographically, most of these countries were in the southern hemisphere. For definitional issues concerning Third World see, Haynes 2002 and Weatherby et al., 2005. Relative gains can be defined as a situation in which a state worries about a division of possible gains that may favour others more than itself (Grieco 1988: 485–507). It will be nearly impossible to list all the major names and their works in the present context. Along with Waltz, Robert Jervis’s (1988) work neatly summarizes this argument and cites the relevant literature. (Art and Waltz 1983: 4, 10). However, these definitions are functional at the best and vary from author to author even among those adhering to the same theoretical perspectives. For a recent attempt to clarify and adequately explicate the concept of ‘security’, see, Baldwin 1997: 5–26. (Sagan and Waltz 1995: 112). This brief volume is an excellent companion for the understanding of current debate within mainstream US academia on the stabilizing role of nuclear weapon with special reference to the spread (proliferation) of nuclear weapons to the Third World. My use of term is based upon Edward W. Said’s (1978) thought. ‘Orientalism is the generic term . . . to describe the Western approach to the Orient; Orientalism is the discipline by which the Orient was (and is) approached systematically, as a topic of learning, discovery, and practice (p. 73). The project is based upon creating binary opposites where ‘the Orient is irrational, depraved (fallen), childlike, “different”; thus the European (in our case the Western) is rational, virtuous, mature, “normal”’ (p. 40). Ayoob is US-based scholar of Indian descent. Security analysts based in South Asia, however, have engaged very cursorily with his conceptual works. The term ‘Western’ is quite problematic as well. Here, it refers to the countries of Western Europe, USA, Japan, and white settler colonies, that is, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand. It would be fair to say that when scholars who define the Third World through the process of elimination the above societies serve as a model to judge ‘others’. Robert H. Jackson (1987) argues that most states of Africa, especially subSaharan Africa, not only owe their creation to the international community but survive mainly due to the ‘sovereignty’ norm propounded by the international community. The point of mixing causes with effects is made in another context by Tamir (1995: 418–40). But such a strand is common in the perspective of ‘weak states’ model. Determinism was the hallmark of some Marxists who would explain every outcome by referring to economic causes. In traditional security studies

108 Haider K. Nizamani explanations tend to be centred around the notion of ‘national interests.’ For a detailed discussion of the value of indeterministic approach see, Chatterjee 1988: 351–90. 13. Partha Chatterjee coined the phrase in response to intellectual trait in India where it is thought that ‘all the forms of the modern state in India today represent the unwelcome intrusion of the West and that “traditional” institutions, if allowed to function freely, are still capable of devising adequate instruments for the harmonious functioning of large collectivities . . . . What the argument overlooks is the depth to which the processes of the modern state have taken root in the contemporary history of India.’ (Chatterjee 1993: 227).

BIBLIOGRAPHY Art, Robert J. and Kenneth N. Waltz. 1983. ‘Technology, Strategy, and the Uses of Force’, in Mohammed Ayoob (ed.), The Third World Security Predicament: State Making, Regional Conflict and International System. Boulder: LynneRienner. Ayoob, Mohammed. 1995. The Third World Security Predicament: State Making, Regional Conflict, and International System. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner. Baldwin, David A. 1997. ‘The Concept of Security’, Review of International Studies, 23: 5–26. Booth, Ken. 1997. ‘Security and Self: Reflections of a Fallen Realist’, in Keith Krause and Michael C. Williams (eds). Critical Security Studies: Concepts and Cases. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Burchell, Graham, Colin Gordon and Peter Miller (eds). 1991. The Foucault Effect: Studies in Governmentality: With Two Lectures by and an Interview with Michel Foucault. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Buzan, Barry. 1991. ‘New Patterns of Global Security in the Twenty-First Century’, International Affairs, 67(3): 431–51. Campbell, David. 1992. Writing Security: United States Foreign Policy and the Politics of Identity. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Chatterjee, Partha. 1988. ‘More on Modes of Power and the Peasantry’, in Ranjit Guha and Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak (eds), Selected Subaltern Studies, pp. 351–90. New York, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Crawford, Robert M.A. and Darryl S.L. Jarvis. 2000. International Relations—Still an American Social Science: Toward Diversity in International Thought. New York: State University of New York. Dalby, Simon. 1992. ‘Security, Modernity, Ecology: The Dilemmas of Post-Cold War Security Discourse’, Alternatives, 17: 95–134. Grieco, Joseph M. 1988. ‘Anarchy and the Limits of Cooperation: A Realist Critique of the Newest Liberal Institutionalism’, International Organization, 42(3): 485–507.

Our Region Their Theories 109 Holsti, K.J. 1995. International Politics: A Framework for Analysis. New Jersey: Prentice-Hall. Jackson, Robert H. 1991. Quasi States: Sovereignty, International Relations and the Third World. Cambridge University Press. Jalal, Ayesha. 1995. Democracy and Authoritarianism in South Asia: A Comparative and Historical Perspective. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Jervis, Robert. 1988. ‘The Political Effects of Nuclear Weapons’, International Security, 13(2): 80–90. Job, Brian L. (ed.). 1992. The Insecurity Dilemma: National Security of Third World States. Boulder: Lynne-Rienner. Krause, Keith and Michael C. Williams (eds). 1997. Critical Security Studies: Concepts and Cases. Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press. Lewellen, Ted C. 1995. Dependency and Development: An Introduction to the Third World. Westport: Bergin & Garvey. Sagan, Scot D. and Kenneth N. Waltz. 1995. The Spread of Nuclear Weapons: A Debate. New York: W.W. Norton. Said, Edward W. 1978. Orientalism. Penguin Edition. Singh, Jasjit. 1990. ‘India’s Strategic and Security Interests’, in Jasjit Singh (ed.), Indo-US Relations in a Changing World: Proceedings of the Indo-US Strategic Symposium. New Delhi: Lancer Publishers in association with Institute for Strategic Studies and Analyses. Smith, Steve. 1989. ‘Paradigm Dominance in International Relations: The Development of International Relations as a Social Science’, in Hugh C. Dyer and Leon Mangasarian (eds), The Study of International Relations: The State of the Art. Basingstoke: Macmillan. In association with Millennium: Journal of International Studies. Subramanian, R.R. 1989. India, Pakistan, China: Defence and Nuclear Tangle in South Asia. New Delhi: ABC Books. Tamir, Yael. 1995. ‘The Enigma of Nationalism: Review Article’, World Politics, 47(3): 418–40. Tilly, Charles (ed.). 1975. The Formation of National States in Western Europe. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Todorov, T. 1995. The Morals of History, Alyson Waters (trans.). Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Waltz, Kenneth N. 1993. ‘The Emerging Structure of International Politics’, International Security, 18(2): 44–79. Weiss, Thomas G. and Meryl A. Kessler (eds). 1991. Third World Security in the Post-Cold War Era. Boulder: Lynne Rienner. Wetherby, Josephu N. et al. 2005. The Other World: Issues and Politics of the Developing World. New York: Pearson Longman.

5 Pluralism, Democracy and Ethnic Conflict Resolution Possibilities in Sri Lanka for State Re-making Jayadeva Uyangoda

INTRODUCTION

I

n early 2002, Sri Lanka embarked on a somewhat ambitious project of working out a negotiated settlement to the island’s two decadelong ethnic war.1 A peace process, which began in 2001 has brought the Sri Lankan state and the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) to a political engagement. The LTTE had been leading an ethnicsecessionist insurgency on behalf of the Tamil minority who are the regional majority in Sri Lanka’s Northern and Eastern provinces. A ceasefire agreement signed in February 2001 still holds, although with reports of regular violations largely attributed to the LTTE. A series of negotiations in 2002, assisted by the international community, had earlier led to significant de-escalation of the intensity of conflict, even though the parties had not been able to reach a final settlement. Escalating violence between the government armed forces and the anti-LTTE paramilitaries on one hand, and the LTTE and its front organizations on the other, poses a major threat to Sri Lanka’s fragile peace. Although the 2002 peace process in Sri Lanka is now stalled, it produced one significant development in Sri Lanka’s ethnic conflict process. During negotiations, the LTTE indicated that they were prepared to explore the federal option as an alternative to secession. ‘Internal self-determination within a united Sri Lanka’ is the phrase

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that the delegations of the Sri Lankan government and the LTTE used in their Oslo Communiqué of December 2002 to qualify the federal option. Meanwhile, in October 2003, the LTTE presented to the Sri Lankan government a set of proposals for an interim administration for Sri Lanka’s Northern and Eastern provinces. These proposals indicated that from the LTTE’s perspective, even an interim administrative arrangement would require a substantial measure of self-rule and reconstitution of Sri Lanka’s exiting political and administrative structures. In response to the LTTE’s proposals for extensive regional autonomy as an acceptable alternative to separation, the Muslim political parties have begun to insist that a separate Muslim autonomy unit be created in the Northern and Eastern provinces in order to ensure political rights of the Muslim minority. Briefly stated, Sri Lanka’s proposed transition from civil war to peace calls for reviewing and reworking the entire architecture of the postcolonial state. Set against that backdrop, this article’s focus is on exploring the conditions for transforming Sri Lanka’s ethnic conflict to democratic peace through a project of comprehensive political reform. The central thrust of my argument is that while a negotiated political settlement to the island’s ethnic conflict is feasible, a sustainable settlement would still require a framework of state that can effectively replace the Tamil ethnic secessionist project while at the same time addressing the impulses for self rule among other ethnic communities. This orientation of the argument makes this article somewhat prescriptive in spirit. The key idea that this paper seeks to develop concerns ‘state re-making’ in an advance framework of federalism and autonomy. It employs the idea of state re-making to suggest that the settlement of the ethnic conflict should be viewed as a task that goes far beyond piecemeal constitutional reform as suggested in Sri Lanka’s dominant conflict resolution perspective. A federalist project in the Sri Lankan context constitutes the minimum threshold of state reform for ethnic conflict settlement. An advanced federalist framework would entail not only regional autonomy, but also autonomy within autonomy—or federalism within federalism. In developing the state re-making proposal, the article emphasizes that the post-ethnic conflict state should be endowed with structural flexibility and

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capacity for reform whenever ethnic grievances expose the inadequacy of the existing political order in constructively mediating in inter-community as well as state–community conflicts. In brief, it suggests periodic reinvention of the state as a political association.

TRANSFORMATORY PEACE I also argue in this article that a project of state re-making in Sri Lanka should presuppose a relatively protracted period of transformatory peace consisting of three interrelated tasks. The first is the termination, or substantial de-escalation, of the present war through negotiations between the government of Sri Lanka and LTTE. Negotiations should be a process that creates space for political engagement among parties to the conflict as well as ethnic communities while sustaining possibilities for effectively rupturing the link between ethnic conflict on one hand and war and violence on the other. This may be termed as the phase of ‘negative peace’ in which war and violence would not be necessary to highlight ethnic grievances, even though the root causes of the conflict are not yet fully addressed. The second task integrally linked to the first, should focus on radically reforming the state through redefining the constitutional foundations of Sri Lanka’s post-colonial state. Reconstitutionalizing the state may ideally have two components: the conflict settlement framework agreed upon by the parties to negotiations and a constitutional covenant arrived at through a political consensus among national/ethnic communities. For such a constitutional project to become an instrument of transformative peace, it should posses a deeply democratic and federalizing charter. This task may spread over a phase of transition from ‘negative peace’ to ‘positive peace’. The third task presupposes a programme of working towards ‘positive peace’ involving the post-settlement reconstruction of economic, social and political relations. This is a period of transition from peacemaking to peace-building. In its most positive form, it may create enabling conditions for Sri Lankan society to manage its conflicts through democratic practices. Its most powerful impact would be on the role of war and violence as modes of political practice.

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PROTRACTED CONFLICTS, THE QUESTION OF POLITICS AND THE POST-CONFLICT STATE In the recent literature on protracted social conflict, there has emerged a considerable emphasis on political reform dimensions as a necessary precondition for resolving such conflicts. The assumption shared by scholars in the 1970s and 1980s that inter-state or intra-state conflicts were amenable to resolution through negotiation and mediation came to be re-examined in the 1990s against the backdrop of post-agreement difficulties in instances like Northern Ireland and Israel-Palestine. Sri Lanka has provided insights into further complications in negotiation when post-agreement complexities in the later 1980s were followed in the subsequent years by two other instances of negotiation failure. There is an increasing recognition among scholars now that intra-state conflicts and civil wars call for far-reaching political and economic reforms in order to address the deep-rooted structural causes of such conflicts. A key lesson that Sri Lanka’s recent experience in conflict and peace processes offers is that negotiations between the state and ethnic insurgents are a necessary prerequisite for conflict de-escalation, yet not an adequate condition for conflict settlement. What is required for a conflict settlement process to even begin in earnest is a vision and programme for radically reforming the state that will introduce to the negotiation exercise a substantial political reform agenda. After all, at the core of ethno-political conflicts are issues about state power and the distribution of economic and other material resources. The settlement of such conflicts is a political process of negotiating how to radically alter the way in which the state power is organized and distributed. Among scholars who have attempted to grapple with the challenges of managing protracted intra-state conflicts, William Zartman (1995) has emphasized the need in conflict settlement of what he calls ‘returning to normal politics’. Internal conflicts begin, in Zartman’s insightful formulation, ‘with the breakdown of normal politics’, with the inability of or unwillingness of the government to handle social grievances to the satisfaction of the aggrieved (1995: 5). Characterized by dynamics of ‘asymmetry’, protracted internal civil wars have become the most difficult of conflicts to negotiate. Zartman points out that only a quarter to a third of modern civil wars has

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found their way to negotiation. About two-thirds of the internal conflicts have ended in the surrender or elimination of one of the parties involved. However, in protracted conflicts based on issues of deprivation, discrimination and identity, the defeat of the rebellion merely drives the cause further underground—or even abroad, in contemporary conditions of globalization—only to re-emerge at a later stage. As Zartman says in fairly straight terms, ‘it is the government’s job to be responsive to the grievances of its people; it is the insurgent’s purpose to draw attention to their grievances and gain redress. Negotiation is the natural meeting point of these needs, an extension of the “normal politics” that should characterize a well-functioning polity’ (Ibid.: 3). However, as Zartman acknowledges, internal conflict works against its best outcome. The process of resolving internal conflicts through negotiation and assisted by mediation—a long, arduous and complex process—presupposes a return to normal politics: The eventual key to the effectiveness of mediators and negotiators is an outcome that returns the conflict to normal politics. In this respect, too, civil wars differ from many other conflicts. Internal conflict cannot be resolved by some wise judgment on an outstanding issue, such as the location of a boundary, the exchange of disarmament quotas, or the terms of a treaty. Rather, the outcome must provide for the integration of the insurgency into a new body politic and for mechanisms that allow the conflict to shift from violence back to politics. Generally, this involves creating a new political system in which the parties to the conflict feel they have a stake, thus in a very positive sense co-opting all parties—government and rebels—in a new creation . . . [A] stable outcome must be a joint creation with benefits for both sides to hold them to the agreement. (Zartman 1995: 21–22, emphasis added).

This article takes Zartman’s insight of ‘returning to normal politics’ further to argue that in protracted ethnic conflicts that involve the question of state power—often conceptualized in demands for autonomy or separation—normalization of politics should mean reconstitution of the political order. It presupposes not a return to the old order, or some slightly altered version of it, but rather ‘creating a new political system’ or, to put it different terms, re-working the associational bases of the state. Indeed, studies on negotiated settlement attempts at resolving violent conflicts are replete with warnings that even returning to normal politics in its very literal

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sense has not been easy even after signing peace accords. Darby for example, provides the following startling statistic: ‘Of the thirty-eight formal peace accords signed between January 1988 and December 1998, thirty-one failed to last more than three years’ (2001: 8). To explain the last point, one way of reading the contemporary political crisis in Sri Lanka is to relate the protracted ethnic conflict to the unresolved problem of nation formation and state making.2 As critical commentators of Sri Lanka’s political change after independence have repeatedly pointed out, there has been a relationship of crisis between the nation formation and state-building processes leading to the present ethnic conflict. Its defining characteristic has been the political incommensurability of Sinhalese and Tamil nation projects. They have struggled to exist in one nation-state, without being able to reconcile each other’s political claims to statehood in a praxis of cooperation. Consequently, they have found themselves locked in a self-destructive war for nearly two decades. This, in a way, represents a key political dimension of the intractability of Sri Lanka’s ethnic conflict. One major reason for the incommensurability of the Sinhalese and Tamil nation projects is the Sinhalese nationalist commitment to maintaining Sri Lankan state in the old centralized and unitary form. Although there exist revisionist versions of unitarism, devolution of power, for example, the hegemonic logic of mono-ethnicity has taken deep roots in the political thinking among Sinhalese as well Tamil nationalist forces. Meanwhile, Sri Lanka’s separatist Tamil nationalism has also developed—in reaction to Sinhalese majoritarian unitarism—into a project of minoritarian unitarism. It promises to negate both democracy and pluralism in the so-called ‘Tamil Homeland’. Because of its preoccupation with the aim of territorialization of Tamil nationalist claims in the island’s Northern and Eastern provinces, the secessionist LTTE, which has a militaristic programme for national emancipation, has developed a regional majoritarian vision of the state. It does not seek to accommodate regional or smaller minority demands for equality, recognition and rights. The LTTE’s claim to monopolize the representation of all ‘Tamil-speaking people’ of Sri Lanka is specifically designed to subsume the political demands of the Muslim community in the Tamil nationalist vision of national independence. Stated briefly, Sri Lanka’s Sinhalese as well

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as Tamil nationalisms do not offer possibilities for the resolution of the conflict resolution on the basis of political pluralism. That, in a very fundamental way, is a consequence of ethnicizing the visions of political emancipation. I argue in this chapter that politically-credible explorations into real possibilities of ethnic conflict resolution in Sri Lanka require a new shift in politics, in the direction of de-ethnicizing, in the long-run, the way in which political futures of ethnic communities are conceptualized. An important political lesson which protracted ethnic conflicts generally offer may be formulated as follows: although ethnonationalist political projects can highlight in great measure ethnic grievances and injustices, rarely can they offer democraticallyemancipatory solutions. Among major reasons for this is the majoritarianist desire inherent in minoritarian nationalist projects. Minoritarian nationalisms in multi-nation states have generally demonstrated a tendency for imagining their political futures in the master image of the existing nation-state against which they have even waged a secessionist war. This is a paradox of minoritarian emancipatory politics. The minoritarian projects are usually uni-ethnic in relation to state power. As it often happens, the oppressed national minority today awaits to transform itself into a regional majority tomorrow. They imagine ‘national liberation’ primarily as equal to the task of establishing ‘national sovereignty’ and not political democracy. The absence of a democratic content in sovereignty-seeking ‘national liberation’ projects is also linked to the inherent political limits of the armed struggle which many secessionist movements adopt as the most effective strategic path to political independence. An armed insurgency against the state is not a democratic course of political resistance. The insurgency militarizes and de-democratizes the politics of resistance and emancipation. Its logic of war and violence gives rise to political ideologies and practices of authoritarianism. ‘Liberation’ movements engaged in armed struggles cannot take the emancipatory project beyond the point of establishing political independence or autonomy, unless the struggle is de-militarized. We may even argue that de-militarization of the ‘liberation struggle’ is an essential precondition for democratization of counter-state emancipatory politics (Chenoy 2005; Karki and Kattel 2005).

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This critique clearly suggests that ethnic conflicts demand democratic solutions and not retreat to ethnic reconstitution of the postconflict political community. Democratization of the political community, pluralization of the state and sharing of sovereignty are three programmatic goals around which non-ethnic solutions to ethnic problems could be imagined and worked out. These solutions are non-ethnic in two perspectives. First, they are not viewed through an ethnic zero-sum prism. In other words, they do not give rise to ethnic jealousies in terms of who gets more than the others. Second, they are preconditions for the political emancipation of all, as opposed to some ethnic communities. Therefore, they make political emancipation a democratic egalitarian desire. The other reason why ethnic projects engaged in protracted struggles have failed to offer emancipatory alternatives is the general tendency among them to degenerate into predatory political formations along with a peculiar political economy of war. To use the insights offered by Keen (1997) as well Rajasingham-Senanayake (1999b), protracted conflicts are not just irrational breaking down of economies and societies, neither would ethnic wars remain merely ethnic over the spread of protracted conflicts. Conflict, then, is about the re-ordering of society in particular ways under conditions of its dynamics of reproduction. In Keen’s words, in wars, we see the ‘creation of a new type of political economy, not simply the disruption of the old one (1997: 25). Rajasingham-Senanayake makes the point in relations to Sri Lanka’s conflict that population displacement, culture of terror, extortion and illegal taxation constitute ‘a profitable exercise for armed groups’ which functions ‘through an economy of terror, scarcity and fear’ (1999b: 61). In the new political economy of war, the state as well as the emerging state of nationalist rebels is often turned into what Charles Tilly (1985) calls ‘protection rackets.’ Similarly, the emerging state in the conflict zones is largely a war machine, established and maintained to conduct nationalist politics by other military means. Thus, one paradoxical outcome of protracted civil wars is that the emancipatory project of the counter-state struggle becomes subsumed by the imperatives of the political economy of the armed conflict. The thoroughly authoritarian politics of Tamil nationalist groups, including the LTTE, is thus to a great extent linked to the political-economy imperatives of the war itself. The transformation

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of the state as a war machine to a state with legislative, executive and administrative structures, backed by checks and balances on the exercise of power, is a difficult and complex process.

PREREQUISITES FOR DEMOCRATIC STATE FORMATION Sri Lanka’s civil war during the past two decades has also consolidated two competing and mutually-exclusive processes of state formation, one in Sinhalese society and the other in Tamil society. If the civil war has been a process of state formation, the transition from war to peace is also a period of state formation. Thus, settling the conflict is also about reconciling these two state formation processes while accommodating emancipatory impulses among other communities as well. That calls for a vision and agenda of recreating the associational bases of the Sri Lankan state for reasons of ethnic reconciliation, peace, pluralism and democracy. In this section, I explore the above argument. The discussion is built around two assertions. First, as argued earlier, ethnic conflicts have no ethnic solutions that can deliver political emancipation to minority nations or communities in multi-nation states. It implies that conflict resolution and political reforms in societies embroiled in ethno-political civil war require democratic alternatives with two particular capabilities. First, they should be able to accommodate ethnic identity aspirations of all communities. Second, they should provide incentives to protect the political struggle for emancipation from being transformed into a programme for ethnic hegemony. From this perspective, pluralist federalization of Sri Lanka’s state presupposes the political re-association of the three main ethnic communities of the island society—the Sinhalese, Tamils and Muslims— in active cooperation with regional, local and other minorities. At present, the Sri Lankan state is a fragile association of the three main ethnic communities. The state’s continuity is in constant jeopardy, while its break-up has entered the agenda of history. Cementing the ethnic bases of the state is a difficult task. One potentially effective path is to extend the entitlements of democracy to regional and local minorities as well.

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The second assertion is a normative one. It points towards the idea of state re-making as an ethical enterprise. It argues that the state re-making project should be politically open enough for the unitarist majority, the secessionist minority as well as other ethnic and identity communities to discover a mutually-enabling framework of political association in the form of a covenant. The covenant-based re-association should provide the ethnic communities a mutuallyagreed ground for sustainable cooperation while discouraging inter-ethnic enmity, suspicion and antagonism. Such a proposal for state re-making is further linked to the argument that covenantal re-association would enable the all ethnic and identity communities to treat each other as political communities of equal worth. Equality, not hierarchy, of worth is the underlying ethical principle. It stands as a non-pragmatic, non-utilitarian bond between ethnic communities, no matter whether they are big or small in numerical size. Why should we place much emphasis on ‘regional and local minorities’ in finding alternatives to ethnic conflict? Framing Sri Lanka’s community identities as well as community identity-based political claims only in terms of ‘national’ ethnic categories such as Sinhalese, Tamil or Muslim is a political mistake. In Sri Lanka, the non-inclusion of regional and local minorities in the democratic reckoning has resulted in three counter-democratic consequences in ethnic relations. First, it has established in the polity an ethnic hierarchical order in a discourse of majority and minority that is essentially inegalitarian in its political practice. Second, it totally obliterates shifting power relations of communities in situations where majority-minority classification becomes meaningless under regional or local circumstances. For example, a community which would belong to the majority in the macro-sense of ethnic categorization, a ‘national’ majority, would in fact find itself in a minority in a multi-ethnic regional setting, like the Sinhalese communities in Sri Lanka’s Eastern Province. Similarly, a community which is a national minority, like the Tamils in Sri Lanka, would find itself a majority in a regional context. While a national minority can be a regional majority, a regional minority can also be a local majority. Such is the dialectic of numbers in defining who constitutes the majorities and minorities. Third, in the logic of group politics, there are not only a majority and some minorities, but also many

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minorities, minorities even within the majority framed in such existential categories as region, caste, religion, language and other identities. There are also regional, local and dispersed minorities. When the political conflict is framed essentially in terms of a conflict between the state and a sub-nationality, the emancipatory claims of all these ‘minority’ groups are either subdued or pushed to the backdrop. The repeated claim made by Sri Lanka’s Muslim minority that they should be included as an equal partner in any peace settlement between the Sri Lankan government and the LTTE emanates from the all too familiar politics of excluding other minorities. One radically enabling way to overcome the undemocratic majority-minority hierarchy and re-ground group relations in egalitarian ethics, is to treat all communities as constituted by multiple minorities. ‘We all are minorities’ is an eminently democratic assertion in a plural society. Another way out is to broaden our constitutional imagination in order to move beyond the conventional model of territorial federalism. A creative synthesis of territorial as well as non-territorial forms of autonomy and power-sharing is quite possible.3 Such a synthesis could be grounded in the idea of federalism within federalism.4

CONFLICT RESOLUTION AND DEMOCRACY Democratic reconstitution of political communities under conditions of a bitter, protracted and intractable ethnic conflict like in Sri Lanka is, by no means, an easy task. This article proposes two ways to grapple with this difficult task in Sri Lanka. The first is to view the Sri Lankan state as the institutional embodiment of certain normative principles that would bring all communities together to form a collective political association. This approach may seek to answer the question as to why Sinhalese, Tamil, Muslim and other regional ethnic/identity communities should stay together to form a political community even after two decades of war and violence. Or to put the question more bluntly, why should Sinhalese and Tamil communities, or Muslim and Tamil communities, who have experienced years of enmity in the recent past, decide to stay together within a single state form?

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The answer to the above question should be one that can transcend pragmatic or coercive bases of political union among communities. Pragmatic political unions have no lasting foundations to survive circumstances and conditions of crisis. Indeed, a pragmatic political union can easily rationalize political disunion too, on pragmatic, utilitarian grounds. In contrast, normative principles of political union are higher goals, secular-transcendental values—like justice, fairness, equality, tolerance and collective happiness—that can best be achieved collectively. The second approach is to discover, believe in and be convinced of the virtues of continuing democratization of the political sphere—the state, its institutions, structures and practices, political relations among communities and statesociety relations in a continuing life of democratic reform and reinvention. In this view, relentless democratization is not a weakness, an evil, but a source of strength, a virtue of the political community. This is proposed as an alternative in which identity politics of hostility among ethnic groups can be re-humanized in a culture of solidarity and their inter-community differences turned into enabling resources in diversity. This twin approach to ethnic conflict resolution and democratic reform for Sri Lanka as suggested above necessitates a norm-based political agenda the broad outlines of which may be formulated as follows. First, there should be a fresh envisioning—indeed, re-envisioning—of the state as a voluntary democratic political association of all ethnic and other identity groups. Second, the reenvisioning of the state should be a cooperative project among all identity communities in which categories of political imagination should be derived from future possibilities of greater democratization and political voluntarism, and not from the pre-independence or pre-colonial past inhabited in the historical unconscious. This presupposes, at least for the sake of a new political imagination, the erection of, to borrow a phrase from John Rawls (1971), ‘a veil of ignorance’ concerning most of the past of inter-ethnic encounters and atrocities, from yesterday backwards. Third, political and social emancipation of all identity communities as well as individual citizens should be inscribed in all spheres of state and civil society interventions. This point needs to be particularly noted in view of the fact that among marginal ethnic and social minorities, social

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oppression and exclusion is widely prevalent, as manifested in their relative as well as absolute inaccessibility to education, public health, non-caste occupation, basic public utilities, social justice and public infrastructure. Fourth, and by no means finally, is the redemocratization of the politics of Sri Lanka’s Tamil society which is crucial to sustaining the democratic impulses of Sinhalese and Muslim societies. Sri Lanka’s Tamil society has lost most of its democratic bearings in the context of a protracted and destructive war. As long as the politics and everyday life of Tamil society remains militarized, democratic impulses in Sinhalese, Tamil as well as Muslim societies are most likely to remain weak and vulnerable. Thus, de-linking the ethnic question from the war is an essential precondition for re-democratization of Sri Lanka’s Tamil, Muslim and Sinhalese polities. The formulation of a new democratic agenda in the above outline is a difficult yet productive enterprise. Its creative aspect can be derived from the fact that it will have to immediately confront and politically negotiate two powerful nation-ist fantasies, produced by two energetic appropriative desires of the state: the Sinhala-centric unitary state and the Tamil-centric separate state.5 Being ethnic fantasies, these two projects cannot reconcile with each other in the real world of democratic politics. De-fantasizing these nation projects is therefore fundamentally important for Sri Lanka’s democratic political future. But, who will de-fantasize Sri Lanka’s future? In a polity where the ruling class groups have abdicated their key class responsibilities, the question of the historical agency for democratic re-envisioning of the state should come to the fore in any serious discussion on Sri Lanka’s political tomorrow. Similarly, there is also the need for a modernizing collective fantasy of democracy, around which the mass political energies can be re-mobilized. This is indeed where the social emancipatory ideals of democracy need to be summoned back to define our terms of political imagination.

IMMEDIATE TASKS At a time when another attempt at negotiated peace has reached a deadlock in Sri Lanka, it is important to defend the idea of federalism,

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notwithstanding the fact that the negotiation process between the state and the LTTE has reached an impasse. Defending the idea as well as the future of federalism should not be confined to the negotiation agendas of the two main parties to war. It should indeed be integral to a programmatic commitment to democratic as well as pluralistic re-building of Sri Lanka’s post-colonial state. After years of violence, community polarization and breakdown of political institutions, there is no room for returning to the old politics, or the old state. This is particularly so when the state enters into a settlement process with a secessionist nationality. The challenge at present for the Sri Lankan state concerns how to reform itself in such a way that the secessionist project of the LTTE becomes politically redundant. On the other hand, the challenge for the LTTE is to convince themselves and the Tamil people that the political settlement, short of their original goal, is a victory, a worthwhile compromise that brings equality, justice and recognition to their ‘nation’. Confronting this challenge requires working on a number of levels. First, the main protagonists of the conflict should be able to discover a political framework within which they can co-exist as partners as well as competitors in a pluralistic-democratic polity. It calls for a new politics of co-existence. The framework of coexistence is usually a constitutional model that should have the capacity to provide adequate flexibility to determine modes of power-sharing between the centre and the periphery as well as among ethnic communities. But the important point about any politicalconstitutional framework of co-existence is that it should be one jointly agreed upon by the protagonists, and not one imposed by one side on the other. In this sense, Sri Lanka’s post-conflict state should be one to which the rebellious ethnic community can also claim ownership. Second, the post-conflict political reform exercise should be understood and treated as an important, and crucial, stage in the process of post-conflict state formation. The old state, the postcolonial one, has been in an acute and inescapable crisis. The conflict has been historically brought about by the inadequacies of the old post-colonial state and the political framework associated with it. If a process of sustainable conflict settlement is to consolidate itself, it should manifest itself in re-making the state. A project of

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state re-making in Sri Lanka presupposes a radical shift from the unitary state model as well as the legacy of majoritarian democracy. The present emphasis on federalism represents a significant conceptual shift. While Tamil nationalists, as represented by the LTTE, have opted for returning to the original goal of post-colonial Tamil nationalism, the Sinhalese ruling elite, at least a section of it, does not seem to have much inhibition towards a radical reworking of the way in which political power is organized and structured in the state. Third, federalism should not be understood as a mere exercise in devolving power to the periphery. In fact, the language of devolution is quite inadequate to encapsulate the emerging trajectories of conflict settlement and political accommodation in Sri Lanka. The concept of devolution, as it evolved in Sri Lanka’s constitutional discourse, presupposes that the centre, run by the political elite of the majority community, gives away some of its powers to the periphery with reluctance. It also emerged in a context where Sri Lanka’s ethnic conflict was viewed as simply a minority issue. When we look at the whole question of political reforms from the perspective of the Tamil community, we might find that the notion of devolution has majoritarian connotations. Power-sharing is a more democratic term. It presupposes that the ethnic communities are equals and deserve equal worth and recognition. A discursive shift towards equality among communities is useful to enrich our political imagination at a time when the transition from war to peace requires a great deal of creativity in constitutionalism (Tiruchelvam 2001). To put it in slightly different terms, a new language of political imagination and dialogue is quite crucial in looking for democratic alternatives. Fourth, it is not very clear whether Sri Lanka can lay a strong political foundation for peace unless the emerging reform process constitutionalizes strong safeguards against majoritarian democracy. I feel that many intellectuals in the South who advocate a negotiated settlement to the ethnic conflict have not adequately thought about this point. There is an unstated assumption among many civil society peace activists that the political structures that would be created for the Tamil society should ideally be a replication of liberal democratic institutions and practices existing in the Sinhalese

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South. It may not be prudent to forget the historical experience of ethnic minorities, particularly the Tamils, as victims of the majoritarianized liberal democracy—its legislature, its judiciary, its executive and administrative structures and even its electoral processes and practices. The Tamil nationalist ideology shared by the parliamentary moderate and the insurgent guerrilla alike posits that Sri Lankan Tamils have been systematically discriminated against, mis-recognized and excluded not only under conditions of war, but essentially under conditions of parliamentary democracy from 1947 to 1983. Meanwhile, the historical record of the post-colonial Sri Lankan state has been that it has particularly failed in the North and East. A failed majoritarian state can hardly be a model for any non-majority ethnic community in search of recognition, equality and self-determination. Makers of Sri Lanka’s new constitution need to be sensitive to this particular aspect of this historical experience of the Sri Lankan Tamil people. They have been victims of an institutionalized liberal democracy of a particular kind. Without constitutionally entrenched safeguards against majoritarianism, a mere return to liberal democracy in its old institutionalized form can hardly sustain inter-community reconciliation in Sri Lanka. Finally, a peace process in a deeply-divided society like Sri Lanka should be seen as a step towards reworking the founding charter of the polity. A negotiated constitution in this sense is a foundational charter of a new political community. It indeed needs the political sanctity arising from popular legitimacy. In an acutely-fragmented polity like Sri Lanka, securing of broad social and political consensus for constitutional reform is not easy. But, constitution making for conflict resolution is likely to be the instance that will really test the capacity of Sri Lanka’s democratic leadership for political management at a crucial conjuncture of the country’s contemporary history.

CONCLUSION Sri Lankan polity once again finds itself at a crucial conjuncture of circumstances in which constructive ethnic conflict management, termination of civil war and democratic political reforms are

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intertwined in a single political agenda. The recent peace process with its international backing had the potential of pushing the conflicting parties to a settlement accord. The fact that the Sinhalese ruling elites were ready for constitutionalizing an autonomy arrangement was paralleled with the LTTE’s admission that they were willing to explore federalist alternatives to secession. Although these developments provided an unprecedented context for peace and far-reaching democratic reforms, Sri Lanka has once again missed that opportunity. However, resolving Sri Lanka’s ethnic conflict, as argued in this article, requires addressing some fundamentals of politics in a polity that has been torn apart by violence and war. Sri Lanka’s state needs to be re-built on pluralized ethnic foundations while structures of power-sharing should be created at state, sub-state and local levels. A programme of deep-federalization should define ethnic relations in regional units of federalism as well.

ENDNOTES 1. An earlier version of this article was presented at the international conference on Pluralism, Democracy and Conflict Resolution: The Search for Stability in South Asia after 9/11, organized by the Observer Research Foundation, New Delhi and Rosa Luxemburg Foundation, Berlin, on February 20–21, 2003, at India Habitat Center, New Delhi. 2. Many studies on Sri Lanka’s ethnic conflict have pointed to the contradictory process of nation and state making in Sri Lanka. For example, Rajasingham-Senanayake (1999a), Krishna (1999), and Uyangoda (1994). 3. In Sri Lanka, there has already emerged a body of thinking in this direction. See, for example Devaraj (2005). 4. We may also call this proposal ‘deep federalization.’ It suggests that there should be federalist power-sharing within federal units in order to enable regional and local minorities to participate in the process of governance with their rights constitutionally guaranteed and institutionally enforced. 5. I use the term ‘fantasy’ here not in its political-pejorative sense, but as a metaphor to describe Sinhalese and Tamil nation-ist imaginations. In using this metaphor, I also have at the back of my mind the horrendous fact that both nationalist projects have succeeded in sending thousands of young men and women to death—death in custody, in battlefield, under most sadistic torture and in suicide, almost as a voluntary exercise preferred by young men and women to seek the ultimate meaning in life in the negation of individual life.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY Chenoy, Anuradha. 2005. ‘National Security, Multiple Insurgencies, Inter-State Relations and Societal Militarisation’, Asian Exchange, 21(4): 17–60. Darby, John. 2001. The Effects of Violence on Peace Processes. Washington DC: The US Institute of Peace. Devaraj, P.P. 2005. Power Sharing and the Rights of Non-Territorial Minorities. Colombo: Center for Community Transformation. Karki, Arjun and Mukunda Kattel. 2005. ‘Democratic Failure, National Insurgency and the Rise of a Bellicist Culture’, Asian Exchange, 21(4): 125–54. Keen, David. 1997. ‘The Political Economy of War’, in F. Stuart (ed.), The Social and Economic Cost of Conflict in Developing Countries, London: DEID, cited in Jonathan Goodhand and David Hulme. 1999. ‘From Wars to Complex Political Emergencies: Understanding Conflict and Peace Building in the New World Disorder’, Third World Quarterly, 20(1): 13–26. Krishna, Sankaran. 1999. Postcolonial Insecurities: India, Sri Lanka and the Question of Nationhood. Minneapolis and London: The University of Minnesota Press. Rajasingham-Senanayake, Darini. 1999a. ‘Democracy and the Problem of Representation, The Challenge of Bi-polar Ethnic Identity in Post-colonial Sri Lanka’, in Joanna Pfaff-Czarnecka et al. (eds), Ethnic Futures: The State and Identity Politics in Asia, pp. 99–134. New Delhi: Sage Publications. ————–. 1999b. ‘The Dangers of Devolution: The Hidden Economies of Armed Conflict’, in Robert I. Rotberg (ed.), Creating Peace in Sri Lanka: Civil War and Reconciliation, pp. 57–69. Washington DC: The Brookings Institution Press. Rawls, John. 1971. A Theory of Justice. New York: Columbia University Press. Tilly, Charles. 1985. ‘War Making and State Making as Organized Crime’, in P. Evans, D. Rueschemeyer and T. Skocpol (eds), Bringing the State Back In, pp. 169–91. New York: Cambridge University Press. Tiruchelvam, Neelan. 2001. ‘The Politics of Federalism and Diversity in Sri Lanka’, in Yash Ghai (ed.), Autonomy and Ethnicity: Negotiating Competing Claims in Multi-ethnic State, pp. 197–218. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Uyangoda, Jayadeva. 1994. ‘Ethnicity, Nation and State Formation in Sri Lanka: Antinomies of Nation-Building’, Pravada, 3(4): 6–11. ————–. 2002a. ‘Sri Lanka’s Conflict: Complexities in a Negotiated Settlement’, in Paul R. Brass and Achin Vanaik (eds), Competing Nationalisms in South Asia, pp. 195–249. New Delhi: Orient Longman. ————–. 2002b. ‘Civil War and the Peace Process in Sri Lanka’, Asian Exchange, 17(2 ) and 18(1): 56–77. Zartman, I. William (ed.). 1995. Elusive Peace: Negotiating an End to Civil Wars. Washington DC: The Brookings Institution.

6 The Westphalian State in South Asia and Future Directions Mijarul Quayes

PROLEGOMENA

T

he 1648 Peace of Westphalia1 is cited as the political Big Bang that created the modern system of autonomous states. Westphalia not only ended the Thirty Years’ War against the hegemonic power of the Holy Roman Empire, but also set forth new rules of international law, establishing the sovereign character of the nation-state with a solemn prohibition against interference in its internal affairs by external powers. The Westphalian state became a prototype for the nation-state when its foundational principle of state sovereignty was enshrined in the UN Charter. At the same time, the countervailing principle of national obligations was created as the United Nations’ member-states adopted the Universal Declaration on Human Rights. Originally states were responsible only for inter-state obligations, but over the years, the new global standards of governance and human rights have created a set of norms that seek to regulate the state’s relations with its own populace, thereby, exposing the developments in its domestic sphere to international scrutiny. Contemporary debates on humanitarian intervention are guided by a new-found global responsibility to protect individual human rights though in doing so, they have modified the long-standing injunction against interference in the internal affairs of nation-states as laid down in the UN Charter. The UN Security Council Resolution 1244 (1999) on Kosovo, which effectively suspended the Yugoslav government’s ‘right’ to rule in

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Kosovo—a recognized part of its national territory—marked the critical point of departure. The hitherto inviolable sovereignty of the nation-state thus became conditional subject to the approval of the international community of its peers ‘in Security Council assembled’. This, in systemic terms and inasmuch as the formal persona of the state is concerned, is viewed as marking the transition of the postCold War world into what might be called the post-Westphalian world. What are the long-term implications of these developments? Are there any specific lessons for the polities of South Asia? In exploring these issues, it is important to keep in mind that the mainstream statist discourse on issues such as sovereignty, security and institutions of governance has evolved with a predominant Euro-centric accent, which in turn, has usually been read as a universal model. The credentials of decolonized states as ‘nation states’ owe more to their colonial experience and boundaries of territoriality, and therefore, these post-colonial states are in essence different from the historical Westphalian states. Such states are invested with the formal trappings of a Westphalian state and institutions of the superstructure. By and large, however, these have not been found to be in consonance with the ethos and cultural space of a ‘nation’. Such states have, therefore, been confronted with the challenge of institution building and enhancing national capacity that suits a particular model of a ‘nation state’. The political fault lines along ethnic, linguistic and religious divisions that were often in-built into the post-colonial states at the time of their birth made this task even more difficult. The resulting insurgencies, civil wars and secessionist movements are in part, the problem and in part, the outcome, as Haider Nizamani explains in this volume. As we consider the Westphalian State in South Asia, it is imperative to look for alternative theoretical tools that provide an escape from the Euro-centric intellectual trap. The point of departure in the present discourse must of necessity begin with the question: did decolonization create Westphalian states in British India? Most of the states in South Asia were part of the British Raj. Though Bangladesh’s emergence as an independent State is in the post-decolonization context and presents an interesting study, the decolonization process also relates to it in the historical sense. This article, therefore, looks into the past in order to gaze into the future and explore the postWestphalian directions in the South Asian context.

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Gesellschaft and Gemeinschaft2 This journey begins by distinguishing between the formalistic structural notion of the state and the organic essence, that is, the identity of the state. Ferdinand Tönnies’ (1974) typology of Gemeinschaft vs. Gesellschaft—the two ideal types of social organization—provides a valuable point of departure in this debate. The crucial distinction between these two concepts is that Gemeinschaft relates to a certain sense of belonging based on shared loyalties, norms and values, kinship or ethnic ties (‘community’); it is conditioned by the feeling that this is a ‘natural’ and organic association that is based on an a priori social unity, on the idea of ‘one people’, and hence a clearly cognizable demos. Gesellschaft, on the other hand, relates to the idea that people remain independent from each other as individuals, but may decide in a ‘social contract’, or a ‘convention’, to group together for the conduct of profit-making transactions (‘society’); it remains an artificial construct which will continue to exist as long as its citizens will find the contractual arrangements of common value. Tönnies’ sociological categories are also useful for understanding contemporary debates on rethinking the state. State formation can be approached from two distinct tracks: (i) as the creation of an infrastructure of governance based on law and a constitution; and (ii) as the development of a culture and consciousness within a ‘cognitive region’, that is to say, a nation formation. Ideally, the consolidation of state and nation runs parallel though occasionally, it has run out of sync. In the European context, for example, the Polish ‘state’ has not existed for several centuries, but the Polish ‘nation’ has endured. The Soviet state, on the other hand, survived seven decades without the development of a coherent and robust Soviet ‘nation’. The conventional wisdom based primarily on the European experience has been that exceptions notwithstanding, these two processes cannot diverge too much. The decolonization process, however has, more often than not, created states that do not correspond to the ‘cognitive region’ of the nation’s culture and consciousness. And this forms the complexities that plague the post-colonial states such as in South Asia. Investing a polity with notions of sovereignty and inviolability does not turn it into a Westphalian state.

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Consider today’s Bangladesh—(Bangla + desh)—literally meaning ‘Bengal land’, for instance. The distinctive consciousness of a Bengali people in terms of linguistic and cultural consolidation goes back several centuries. The Bengali republic or the Bangla ‘state’ however, is only 36 years old. That too does not contain the whole of the cognitive region of Bengal (Bangla). Furthermore, reference to this political space as Bangladesh long predates ‘Bangla’ (Bengal) becoming a ‘desh’ (country). And in today’s Bangladesh state, Bangla/Banga/Vanga (meaning Bengal) and Bangladesh are used interchangeably. The national anthem, for example is a homily to Sonar Bangla (Golden Bengal) and the appeal is to the collective heritage, notwithstanding West Bengal remaining a part of the Indian Republic since the partition of 1947.3 Pakistan was created with the partition of British India on the premise that the Muslims of the Indian subcontinent constituted a distinct nation vis-à-vis the Hindus—the majority community. Geographical regions within the subcontinent were identified on the basis of Muslim majority to create a notional cognitive region, sans nation formation, sans a ‘national’ consciousness and sans a ‘national’ memory. And although the state persona of the Pakistan state, created on 14 August 1947 continues de jure in today’s Pakistan, it was effectively dissolved when the majority in that state (the Bengalis) chose to create a Bengali republic on ethos antithetical to the two-nation theory. The trauma of the Partition, especially in terms of mass movement and relocation of large population groups notwithstanding, today’s India is home to a larger Muslim population than Islamic Pakistan or Muslim-majority secular Bangladesh. The composition of post-1947 India despite its commendable democratic institutions and inclusive ethos, mirrors more an empire than a nation. The territoriality of Indian sovereignty does not also correspond to the ‘cognitive region’ celebrated in national symbols such as certain territorial references in the national anthem or the national emblem of the imperial Ashoka pillar, or the chakra in the national flag. These do have a place in the historic persona of Bharat, but may be discordant in the Bharatiya Prajatantra (the Indian Republic) that came about only after Partition. The Westphalian gap lies in this disjunct between the new-fangled state and the cognitive region of consciousness. Prognosticating a possible post-Westphalian

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future of South Asia thus requires revisiting 1947, and indeed clues for the future construct may well lie in the ‘pre-Westphalian’ chemistry of the region. In order to undertake this task, we need to draw upon the insights offered by post-colonial theory.

POST-COLONIAL THEORY: CHALLENGING THE A PRIORI A departure from the Euro-centric view of history and the reading of culture, society and human organization in the mould of Eurocentric history came with post-colonialism or post-colonial theory, which became part of the critical toolbox in the 1970s. Post-colonial writings addressed wide-ranging issues such the dilemmas of developing a national identity in the wake of colonial rule; the ways in which writers from colonized countries attempt to articulate and even celebrate their cultural identities and reclaim them from the colonizers; the ways knowledge of colonized people have served the interests of colonizers, and how knowledge of subordinate people is produced and used; and the ways in which the literature of the colonial powers is used to justify colonialism through the perpetuation of images of the colonized as inferior. Colonized people responded to the colonial legacy by ‘Writing Back’. This came about as indigenous people became educated and began to write their own histories, their own legacy. Attempts at coining a single definition of post-colonial theory have been deeply contested. The seminal discourses on this include works which take very different approaches to what broadly can be labelled post-colonial, and works that offer strong critiques of some of the limits of the field as practised by some of it most prominent figures. More specifically, concepts such as ‘hybridity postcolonialism’ (Homi Bhabha) and ‘liberal postcolonialism’ (Duncan Ivison) are probably reactions to the communitarian history of post-colonialism which has been broadly embedded in identity politics. ‘Post-colonial’ as a concept entered critical discourse in its current meaning in the late 1970s and the early 1980s though both the practise and the theory of post-colonial resistance go back much further (indeed to the origins of colonialism itself). So, there are a number

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of writers who were ‘post-colonial’ such as Franz Fanon and Albert Memmi as well as the Caribbean writers whose work also presages some of the positions that were later labelled as post-colonial. Broadly speaking, the term suggests both resistance to the ‘colonial’ thought and practice as well as that the ‘colonial’ and colonial discourses continue to shape cultures whose revolutions have overthrown formal ties to their former colonial rulers. This ambiguity owes a good deal to post-structuralist linguistic theory as it has influenced and been transformed by the three most influential post-colonial critics namely Edward Said, Gayatri Spivak and Homi Bhabha. Many genealogists of post-colonial thought, including Bhabha himself, credit Said’s ‘Orientalism’4 as the founding work for the field. Said’s argument that ‘the Orient’ was a fantastical, real materialdiscursive construct of ‘the West’ that shaped the real and imagined existences of those subjected to the fantasy, set many of the terms for subsequent theoretical development, including the notion that, in turn, this ‘othering’ process used the Orient to create, define, and solidify the ‘West’. This complex, mutually-constitutive process enacted with nuanced difference across the range of the colonized world(s), and through a variety of textual and other practices, is the object of post-colonial analysis. Homi Bhabha is one of the leading voices in post-colonial theory. His work is heavily influenced by Western post-structuralists, most notably the writings of Jacques Derrida, Jacques Lacan and Michel Foucault. In his influential book Nation and Narration (1990), Bhabha challenges the tendency to treat Third World countries as a homogeneous block, which leads to the assumption that there was a shared identity amongst ex-colonial states. Bhabha argues that all sense of nationhood is discursively constructed and it is narrativized. One of his major contributions to post-colonial studies was the identification of ambivalence in colonial dominance. In Location of Culture (1994), Bhabha uses concepts influenced by semiotics and Lacanian psychoanalysis: mimicry, interstice or hybridity to argue that cultural production is most productive exactly when it is also most ambivalent.5 This argument represents a critical attack on the Western production of binary oppositions traditionally defined in terms of centre and margin, civilized and savage, enlightened and ignorant. Bhabha

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removes the easy recourse to a consolidated dualism by repudiating fixed and authentic centres of truth, suggesting that cultures interact, transgress and transform each other in a much more complex and multiple manners than a typical binary opposition would allow. Bhabha asserts that the control produced by binary oppositions can be undermined and re-shaped by the natural interanimation of cultural heterogeneity and the subversive effects of hybridization. Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak explores how major works of European metaphysics not only exclude the subaltern from their discussions, but actively prevent ‘uncivilized’ non-Europeans from occupying positions as full human subjects (1999). The ‘Subaltern Studies Group’ attempted to formulate a new narrative of the history of India and South Asia. Though they are somewhat leftoriented, they are very critical of the traditional Marxist narrative of Indian history in which semi-feudal India that was colonized by the British became politicized and earned its independence.6 In particular, they are critical of the focus of this narrative on the political consciousness of elites, who, in turn, inspire the masses to resist and rebel against the British. Instead, they focus on the non-elites—that is, the subalterns—as agents of political and social change. They have had a special interest in the discourses and rhetoric of emerging political and social movements as against only highly visible actions such as demonstrations and uprisings. Post-colonial theory, in other words, flags the problem and explores alternative approaches by challenging a priori assumptions and stereotypes before attempting the construct of other possible readings.

BONDAGE, FREEDOM, NATIONALISM AND TAGORE Even as colonial India moved inexorably towards independence driven by Gandhi’s philosophy of non-violence and Swadeshi, the rules of engagement of the resistance and the shape of things to come were, by and large, defined by the realities of colonial rule. There was, however, in the person of Rabindranath Tagore, a brilliant and emotive mind that read realities differently and set priorities differently. A reading in Tagore indicates possibilities that could have created polities, not necessarily Westphalian, and in their bottom up

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nature offer solutions to the limitations inherent in the constricting space of the nation-state. Amartya Sen (1997), in celebrating Tagore notes that for Tagore, reasoning in freedom was of the highest importance; that people are able to live, and reason, in freedom. His attitudes toward politics and culture, nationalism and internationalism, tradition and modernity can be viewed in the light of this belief, captured beautifully in his famous poem, Gitanjali. Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high; Where knowledge is free; Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls; . . . Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit; . . . Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

Tagore’s qualified support for nationalist movements and his opposition to the alien rule came from this commitment. So did his reservations about patriotism, which, he argued, can limit both the freedom to engage ideas from outside ‘narrow domestic walls’ and the freedom also to support the causes of people in other countries. His passion for freedom underlies his firm opposition to unreasoned traditionalism, which makes one a prisoner of the past ‘lost’, as he put it, in ‘the dreary desert sand of dead habit’. Rabindranath Tagore illustrated the tyranny of the past in his amusing yet deeply serious parable ‘Kartar Bhoot’ (The Ghost of the Leader). As the respected leader of an imaginary land is about to die, his panicstricken followers request him to stay on after his death to instruct them on what to do. He consents. But his followers find their lives are full of rituals and constraints on everyday behaviour and are not responsive to the world around them. Ultimately, they request the ghost of the leader to relieve them of his domination, which is when he informs them that he exists only in their minds. In many ways, the exigencies of the Westphalian state likewise, live in the colonized mind. Tagore was hostile to communal sectarianism (such as a Hindu orthodoxy that was antagonistic to Islamic, Christian or Sikh perspectives). But even nationalism seemed to be suspect in his eyes.

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Tagore’s attitude toward cultural diversity points to an interesting duality in his thoughts: he wanted Indians to learn what is going on elsewhere, how others lived, what they valued and so on without losing interest and reducing involvement in their own culture and heritage. Indeed, he strongly stressed upon the need for synthesis in his work. Tagore strongly and consistently criticized the British administration of India though he consciously refrained from any denigration of British or Western people and culture. Even in his powerful indictment of British rule in India in 1941, in a lecture which he gave on his last birthday, later published as Crisis in Civilization, he strived hard to maintain the distinction between opposing Western imperialism and rejecting Western civilization. He was uncompromising in his belief that human beings could absorb quite different cultures in constructive ways.7 In this context, it is important to emphasize that Rabindranath was not short of pride in India’s own heritage. His welcoming attitude to Western civilization was reinforced by this confidence; he did not see India’s culture as fragile and in need of ‘protection’ from Western influence. Tagore rebelled against the strongly nationalist form that the independence movement often took due to which he often shied away from taking a particularly active part in contemporary politics. He wanted to assert India’s right to be independent, Amartya Sen argues, without denying the importance of what India could learn— freely and profitably—from abroad. Tagore’s criticism of patriotism is a persistent theme in his writings such as his novel Ghare Baire (The Home and the World).8 In Tagore’s own words, ‘On each race is the duty laid, to keep alight its own lamp of mind, as its part in the illumination of the world. To break the lamps of any people, is to deprive it of its rightful place in the world festival.’ This is, in essence, a clear departure from the limited worldview of the nationstate. Today even as we see democracy and the market become ends of history, people are already speaking of democracies within polities, as different from democracy of the superstructure, within a monolithic state. Political organizations need to rest on inclusion through participation. Perhaps Tagore visualized such organization in his notion of the puro samaj or civic society, meaning community, to argue that the state would fit only as a flexible superstructure with a window providing a two-way interface with its communities.

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Interestingly, this lies at the heart of the debate in the evolution of state in the post-Westphalian context.

Post-Westphalian Directions The matrix underlying the rethinking of the state consists of both its formal attributes as well as the more substantive inner ethos of the collective. There are two schools of thought. The first argues that the nation-state will continue to be the bedrock of world politics and that the nation and nationalism provides the only realistic sociocultural framework in today’s world order (Smith 1995; Lieven 1997; Malcolm 1997; and Hodgson 1993). Smith completely rejects the popular thesis predicting the demise of the nation-state and that in globalizing world, other forms of political organization are better equipped and better positioned to deal with new challenges. Smith’s arguments are built around the thesis that ‘memory’ is central to identity,9 and that ‘we can discern no global identity-in-the-making, nor aspirations for one, nor any collective amnesia to replace existing ‘deep’ cultures with a cosmopolitan ‘flat’ culture. The latter remains a dream confined to some intellectuals’ (1995: 24). He further explains that all members of a political community have a ‘pre-history’ which is based on shared experiences that, by definition, sets them apart from other people and that endows them with a feeling of belonging (Ibid.: 98). This clearly goes beyond the ‘rational choice’ of individual human beings of how to decide for themselves who they are, where they come from and what their objectives are. Smith, on the other hand, argues that ‘beneath the public version [of nationalism] there is often a deeper religious content to the sense of value and dignity of the national community, one, which inevitably lends an air of exclusiveness to the core ethnic community of the nation. This is a sense of national dignity and chosenness’ (Ibid.). This mythical, and more often than not also ethnic nature and foundation of nationalism (which may be a reason to argue that the Westphalian states system is war-prone and inherently unstable), is considered a key instrument of mastery of the contemporary nation-state. The second school of thought propounds that ‘there are no natural links binding people to one another; people are therefore the

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authors of their own links, the artists of their own connections’ (Manent 1996: 5). It argues that national identity, nationalism and the nation-state itself are little more than political and cultural artefacts. Nation-states are read as social constructs that may appear as powerful and robust, but in reality, they are both ephemeral and open to modification. It acknowledges that Europe’s nation-states are only a few centuries old, and have therefore lasted no longer than the Roman Empire. Indeed, for Europe the model of political authority has for centuries been that of an ‘empire’ rather than the ‘nation state’ (Calvocoressi 1998: 1). From the Holy Roman Empire to the many European colonial empires (under French, Dutch, Belgian, Portuguese or Spanish dominance), the territorial, sovereign nation-state was either non-existent, or only one part of a diverse conglomerate of authority. As Alain de Benoist has argued, ‘the empire is not primarily a territory, but essentially an idea or a principle. The political order is determined by it—not by material factors or by possession of a geographical area. It is determined by a spiritual idea or juridical idea’ (1994). In this historical context, the Herderian claim that individuals can only flourish within their own nation-state seems absurd. It also exposes nationalism as little more than a thinly veiled ideological exterior legitimizing the territorial sovereign state and its power apparatus. Writing in the context of the European identity, Peter van Ham (2000) discounts the argument that the ‘truth’ can be found somewhere in the middle, as a compromise between the Primordial and the Ephemeral perspective on the nation-state and nationalism. However, it does seem rather brazen to claim the singularity of the nation-state and its indispensability for all meaningful human political and cultural development in the light of the nation-state’s rather short historical life. He says that, in many ways, nation-states continue to author and carefully cultivate their national heritages, the cultural memories, as the indispensable fossils and sedimental sentiments for future generations to admire and ‘learn’ from. These national fossils may no longer be politically relevant, but they do continue to serve as one of the few remaining unifying and legitimizing instruments of state authority and power (Ibid.). Since the state has become the ‘standard’ unit for political authority, nationalist thought has constructed a collective identity within the

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specific boundaries of national territory. Indeed this is how nationstates have throughout the centuries developed and cultivated the strong bonds of community. Roland Robertson (1990) has argued that during the intense phase of globalization that took place between 1880 and 1920, European states responded with an extreme form of nationalism and a ‘willful nostalgia’ in an effort to shelter their societies and cultures from the ‘outside’. New national symbols were developed, new ceremonies introduced and traditions reinvented. These were new rites celebrating a ‘glorious past’ based on readings of traditions and culture that sought to integrate and standardize citizens’ loyalty to the nation-state and the national ideal. This ‘invention of tradition’, often going hand-in-hand with the ‘monumentalization of the past’, obfuscates the fact that states are rather formal constitutional arrangements only occasionally based on a genuine collective heritage. But more often than not, states are products of the imagination, rather than ‘objectively’ and ‘empirically’ verifiable communities of interest and identity (Wintle 1996: 18). This critique is part of a wider argument which claims that the nation-state and nationalism have been suitable and fitting to modern industrial society (which required mobile and literate citizens for effective performance). Nation-states have now lost much of their core purpose in a post-modern era which requires new forms of political organization that go above and beyond the contemporary states system (van Ham and Grudzinski 2000). The globalizing world, dominated by transnational firms, requires a totalizing global ideology and a more global and unified (and perhaps even homogenous) culture of mass consumerism that would respond to mass advertising. These ideas of post-industrialism are based on the assumption that new systems of mass communications and the use of new computer-based technologies will put pressure on the nation-state by eroding and undermining established national identities (Jameson 1992). The era of globalization would call for continent-size markets regulated by one, clear set of economic and political rules and values rather than confined national entities. This is the post-modern cosmopolitan culture that some consider the pinnacle, while others as the nadir of human progress. It is a pastiche of cultures, rather than based on a specific culture. It is eclectic in nature, disinterested in

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place and time, has no concern for ethnic or national origins and, is blissfully ignorant of history. This follows the hegemonic ‘logic’ of the parallel process of globalization and Europeanization in Europe, the ASEAN process in Southeast Asia and in South Asian efforts in the domain of economic integration. From this perspective, the Westphalian states system and its confined view of ‘national interests’ and ‘national sovereignty’ are (or, perhaps better, have been) functional to an era that is now drawing to a close, at least in most parts of the West with their resultant systemic impact in other parts of the world. Before understanding its implications for South Asia, let us briefly analyse the EU way of negotiating and envisioning the post-Westphalian future.

Post-Westphalian: The EU Way The European Union represents a new phase of the human collective post-Westphalia. Its member states have created supranational institutions (the European Court of Justice, the European Commission and the Council of Ministers) that can make decisions even if these are opposed by some member states. The rulings of the court have direct effect and are supreme within national judicial systems even though these doctrines were never explicitly endorsed in any treaty. The European Monetary Union created a Central Bank that now controls monetary affairs for three of the union’s four largest states. Though the European Union may be viewed as a product of state sovereignty because it has been created through voluntary agreements among its member states, at the same time, it fundamentally contradicts conventional understandings of sovereignty because the same agreements have undermined the juridical autonomy of its individual members. It goes to the credit of the EU visionaries that they have been mindful of the need to ensure that progression towards integration would be holistic and that is why, this process of integration has been much more measured and much more conscious of national exigencies. European nations invented the notion of ‘pooling of sovereignty’—a sovereign decision of the states on creating an acquis communataire—the community’s acquisition of competence from the

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member states (through the pooling of their individual sovereignty). Over the years, the acquis has grown, primarily because the Community has generally acted in consonance with the common will of the members. This has been ensured through the institution of a powerful Commission made up of members (Commissioners) who are nominated by the member states. They ensure that the collective decision-making at Brussels does not get out of step with perceptions and priorities in their respective capitals. As a corollary therefore, the European Parliament at Strasbourg has not become a European substitute for the national Parliaments of Europe. And hence, there is a democratic deficit within the European collective. According to Peter van Ham, the European integration process is a unique consummation of political will and geo-political circumstance. The European project has in many ways been a product of the Cold War, kick-started by the integrative stimulus of the Marshall Plan, and hatched under the military wings of the US and NATO. But it has also been a voluntaristic project, based on the power of ideas and the forceful promotion of the concept of European unity and federalism. Participants of the Congress of the Hague, which founded the European Movement in May 1948, clearly agreed that the nation-state was the main source of hatred and war among European peoples that had to be overcome. This anti-nationalist tenet has been a constant in the debate about Europe’s future, initially based on the geo-political necessity to contain Germany within a strong institutionalized European framework, later as a phlegmatic response to the pressures of globalization which continue to question the centrality of the nation-state (van Ham 2000). In this sense, the basis for overcoming the hegemonic cult of the state is founded on the notion that European integration is a means to promote peace, rather than merely an economic programme to guarantee prosperity. In many ways, the European Coal and Steel Community was not about coal and steel at all, but about the pacification of the continent, German-French reconciliation and, the building of a security community. It has been a mechanical process, willed and consciously constructed by Western Europe’s economic and political elite. And for committed European federalists, it has also been a teleological process, based on the argument that the peoples of Europe may finally liberate themselves from the unnatural bonds

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of their nation-states and find their cultural self-realization in a freer, more open European political framework. Former British European Commissioner Lord Cockfield, has summed up this argument by noting that the gradual limitation of national sovereignty is ‘part of a slow and painful forward march of humanity’. (Cited in Milward 1992: 2)

South Asian States and Post-Westphalia The South Asian states are likely to traverse a different path mainly because their colonial experiences have left a very different kind of legacy in the subcontinent. The most distinguishing feature of the colonial rule, for instance, was its project to bring about a complete and hitherto unprecedented socio-cultural transformation. As a result, the traditional, age-old local systems of social organization and governance were allowed to fall into disuse while the transplantation of Western systems found the native soil too unfertile to take deep root though its impact has lasted through decades. Issues of centre-state relations, secessionist demands and insurgent movements and, protection of the religious minorities have dogged the post-1947 India and Pakistan. The unresolved issue of Kashmir and several full-scale wars have characterized the state of Indo-Pakistan relations since birth. A sweep across the South Asian landscape will indicate how uninformed and perhaps unskilled the Raj midwifery was in delivering modern states out of British India. The birth of Bangladesh alone attests to the flawed premise of the partition. The competing nation-building strategies of most South Asian states have ended up pitting one against the other. In the economic domain, the colonial powers had persisted with their neocolonial practices of exercising monopolistic control over the production and marketing of goods in their former colonies and often also created a new, alien, class structure that divided societies. Moreover, the two Partitions—bifurcating India and Pakistan in 1947 and dividing Pakistan with East Pakistan becoming Bangladesh in 1971—had transformed the complementary character of their respective economies into competitive ones, thus severely limiting the scope of bilateral and multilateral economic cooperation. That is

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perhaps why SAARC in its two-and-half decade long existence, has yet to achieve any critical breakthroughs in institutionalizing regional cooperation. On the other hand, it provides, at least potentially, an alternative pathway to transform South Asia, leaving behind the imperfections that states in the subcontinent were heir to from the moment of their birth. In the idea of a convergent South Asia, the tension lies between the prospect of a new ‘homeland’ for all South Asians or just a ‘homeland of homelands’. Central to this is the issue of what needs to come first: the nation-as-a-people, or the nation-as-a-state; whether we first need a Gemeinschaft or a Gesellschaft to accomplish the South Asia project. At the beginning of the 21st century, engineers of the ‘South Asian soul’ must realize that there is very little for them ‘to make’ and that their policy tools are extremely modest. What is needed first and foremost is for the dialectic process of remembering (the South Asian) and forgetting (the national) to gather momentum without falling into the hegemonic trappings of modern nation building. The temptation for South Asian policymakers, however, will be to assume that a consolidated South Asia is required to go through the same phases of development as the nation-state, acquiring the same characteristics and qualities, both actively remembering and forgetting. This would turn the collective into a limited, sovereign community conceived on the basis of a deep, horizontal comradeship.10 As Benedict Anderson wrote on the roots of nationalism, such a mode of post-Westphalian evolution would mean continued rootedness in the existing political culture of nationalism, ‘out of which—as well as against which—it came into being’ (1983: 12). The alternative construct would be to impart a face to the vision—a set of values, norms and cultural attributes that means more than geography and boundary—a face that means a way of life, and an intellectual space called home. A sense of belonging must be infused in the hearts of the peoples as much as in the heads of policymakers. There will, of course, be issues and forums that the South Asian collective will find more relevant than others. It is useful, therefore, to identify core issues for South Asia to anchor. They will need to engage in collective soul-searching on issues that affect them alike such as poverty alleviation, migration, empowerment of marginalized sections, development issues and so on, in order to create and own a

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sense of belonging. South Asia would be beginning its identification of issues that could, over time, make up its acquis communataire and begin the positive journey in shaping its post-Westphalian construct. On the other hand, one can raise the interesting question of how the South Asian project could advance without finding truly ‘PanSouth Asian’ popular traditions and values, as well as their equivalent symbols and experiences. After all, beyond the common colonial experience and the singularity of British India, there is no clear, popular notion of what ‘South Asia’, ‘South Asian identity’, or ‘South Asian culture’ really stands for in terms of values, ideals and traditions. One can also ask why anyone would want to choose a nebulous South Asian identity/culture over another, most notably over his/her own national identity/culture. The idea of South Asianization can provoke a certain sense of dislocation, displacement and puzzlement. This is primarily because it problematizes our national identity and forces us to think how the pan-South Asianness resonates in our political understanding of the ‘self ’. That is precisely why one needs to be cautious about imagining it as a new ‘home’. South Asia can look back on its chequered past and perhaps the only way to develop a collective consciousness might well be to turn our backs to South Asian history and develop as a community that is oriented toward the future. This raises the further question of course, of whether the new South Asia could provide its many and diverse peoples with a new sense of belonging, probably not based on Smith’s notion of ‘shared memory’, but on a foundation of common sedimented experiences, cultural forms which are associated, however loosely, with a geographic South Asia. This would call for what Zygmunt Bauman has labelled a ‘palimpsest identity’ that is ‘the kind of identity which fits the world wherein the art of forgetting is an asset no less, if not more, important than the art of memorizing’ (1997: 25). It is the kind of identity ‘in which forgetting rather than learning is the condition of continuous fitness, in which ever new things and people enter and exit without rhyme or reason’ (Ibid.). This again follows Nietzsche’s call for ‘active forgetfulness’, a conscious and incessant effort to protect the human being from absolute historical memory and to burden it with so-called ‘historical truths’ (Spivak 1998; xxx–xxxi; Derrida 1998: xxx–xxxi). Only such a palimpsest identity may provide us with the

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freedom to generously accommodate the many cultures and multifarious senses of ‘we’. Although the act of forgetting may seem a somewhat artificial and insincere method of advancing a South Asian identity, it should be recalled that nation-states have over centuries practised a complex and dialectic policy of both remembering and forgetting in their efforts to produce nationalism and a sense of belonging. Ernest Renan has claimed that forgetting has been ‘a crucial element in the creation of nations’, and that once a nation has been established, it very much depends for its continued existence upon a collective amnesia (Cited in Billig 1995: 38–39). National unity has often been established through brutality and force, and the newly created ‘Indian’, ‘Pakistani’ or ‘Bangladeshi’ had to actively forget his local, regional and other non-national roots and past by adopting a hegemonic national identity. The history of nation-building and nationalism therefore illustrates that identity-formation by definition involves active (and often enforced) collective amnesia. But on what cultural basis can such a South Asian identity rest? Maintaining and nurturing local and regional cultures is a prerequisite for developing a South Asian polity with grassroots support, based on a supranational identity that develops parallel to other identities. The ethno-national approach of Smith toward the construction of a European Gemeinschaft with all the traditional paraphernalia of statehood ranging from shared myths and memories to an anthem and European flag does not offer a workable alternative for South Asia. A civic, rather than an ethno-national approach to nationalism and citizenship,11 perhaps offers a better opportunity for building an open post-Westphalian polity in South Asia. In this evolution of South Asia, identity should be based on its celebrated diversity, its openness and inclusiveness. This identity should be derived from practice, which can experience the continuous redefinition of itself only through relationships with others.

In Lieu of a Conclusion The future of the Westphalian state in South Asia lies in its past, more specifically in the flawed birth of the ‘nation-states’ of South

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Asia. Emerging out of colonization, these were laden with the succession of state personality of the colonial state. Creating nations by marking on a map and ‘condemning’ people to the bondage of such dispensation is not creating Westphalian states. These new states were in effect post-colonial colonial states (not colonizers, but colonial in structure)—‘functioning anarchies’ as John Kenneth Galbraith puts it (1969). The state is irrelevant for the majority of the people it represents. An organic progression of the historic India (call it South Asia), pre-colonial realities, including subaltern realities, need to connect to present day political realities for people to exercise choices. Even as today’s South Asian states embark on the next stage in their evolution, these are constrained by dual pressures from above and from below—from voices for inclusion by those waging insurgencies and movements for autonomy/secession on the one hand, and the globalization process and multilateral scrutiny, on the other. The future of the South Asian states lies at the nexus of these processes and aspirations. The critical need of the hour is to promote cultural diversity within South Asia. This is important for both the limits of cultural South Asianization and the very complex nature of this effort. South Asia will have to focus on the sub-national even as it creates a supra (post?)-state construct. The latter would be an inexorable result of forces external to the states that are learning to keep pace with the global mainstream. The former would flow from growing scrutiny of state performance in promoting effective inclusion and diversity on the one hand, and destabilizing pressures from below on the other. Therefore integration must go hand in hand with a commitment to improve the knowledge and dissemination of the culture and history of the peoples of South Asia to preserve and safeguard cultural heritage of collective significance. This would serve twin purposes: to encourage a feeling of South Asian-ness and spiritual, emotional and intellectual belonging; and, to protect South Asia’s culture(s) from the tidal waves of globalization. Both these internal and external functions are complementary. Individual national cultures may well be too weak separately to survive the onslaught of globalization and South Asianness could provide sanctuary in collectivity. Instead of a sovereign superstructure for a state, South Asia’s political evolution needs to evolve through the empowerment of

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citizens within inclusive communities. The idea of an integrated South Asia could reconcile us with that construct, provide a flexible superstructure instead of a rigid nation-state, with a window providing a two-way interface with the constituent communities, Tagore’s puro samaj, if you will. This would provide the advantage of scale at the superstructure level, inclusion at the level of functional communities as well as effective channels of clearance, service delivery and transparency.

ENDNOTES 1. Established through two separate treaties, viz. Münster (the Holy Roman Empire with France) and Osnabrück (the Holy Roman Empire with Sweden and the Protestant estates of the empire) on 24 October 1648. England, Poland, Muscovy and Turkey were the only European powers that were not represented at the two assemblies. 2. Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft are sociological categories introduced by the German sociologist Ferdinand Tönnies for two normal types of human association. (A normal type as coined by Tönnies is a purely conceptual tool to be built up logically, whereas an ideal type, as coined by Max Weber, is a concept formed by accentuating main elements of a historic/social change.) Tönnies’ concepts of both Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft, strictly separated from each other conceptually, are fully discussed in his work Gemeinschaft und Gesellschaft (1887). The antagonism of these two terms belonged to the general stock of concepts German pre-1933 intellectuals were quite familiar with and quite often misunderstood. 3. Note also the battle cry of Bangladesh independence movement Joi Bangla (Bengal invictus), the investing of Bangladesh’s founding father as Bangabandhu (Friend of Bengal), the designation of the Presidential residence as Bangabhaban (Bengal House) and so on. 4. Said is best known for describing and critiquing ‘Orientalism,’ which he perceived as a constellation of false assumptions underlying Western attitudes toward the East. In Orientalism (1978), Said decried the ‘subtle and persistent Eurocentric prejudice against Arabo-Islamic peoples and their culture’. He argued that a long tradition of false and romanticized images of Asia and the Middle East in Western society had served as an implicit justification for Europe and America’s colonial and imperial ambitions. The British historian, Bernard Lewis was among the scholars whose work Said questioned in Orientalism and subsequent works. 5. Bhabha argues for a fundamental realignment of the methodology of cultural analysis away from epistemological anchorage points toward the

148 Mijarul Quayes ‘enunciatory present’. Such a shift, he claims, provides a basis for the negotiation of cultural differences rather than its automatic repression or negation in the face of irreconcilable oppositions. Bhabha’s emphasis on the enunciative production of meaning draws the site of critical inquiry up to the level of representation or signification, and thereby produces ‘a temporality that makes it possible to conceive of the articulation of antagonistic or contradictory elements’. 6. The Subaltern Studies Group or Subaltern Studies Collective, a group of South Asian scholars interested in the post-colonial and post-imperial societies of South Asia in particular and the developing world in general. The term ‘Subaltern Studies’ is sometimes also applied more broadly to others who share many of their views. Their approach is one of history from below, focussed more on what happens among the masses at the base levels of society than among the elite. The term ‘subaltern’ in this context is an implied reference to an essay by Italian Marxist Antonio Gramsci. Literally, it refers to any person or group of inferior rank and station, whether because of race, social class, gender, sexual orientation, ethnicity, or religion. 7. Whatever we understand and enjoy in human products instantly becomes ours, wherever they might have their origin. I am proud of my humanity when I can acknowledge the poets and artists of other countries as my own. Let me feel with unalloyed gladness that all the great glories of man are mine. Therefore it hurts me deeply when the cry of rejection rings loud against the West in my country with the clamour that Western education can only injure us. 8. In the novel, Nikhil, who is keen on social reform, including women’s liberation, but cool toward nationalism, gradually loses the esteem of his spirited wife, Bimala, because of his failure to be enthusiastic about antiBritish agitations, which she sees as a lack of patriotic commitment. Bimala becomes fascinated with Nikhil’s nationalist friend Sandip, who speaks brilliantly and acts with patriotic militancy, and she falls in love with him. Nikhil refuses to change his views: ‘I am willing to serve my country; but my worship I reserve for Right which is far greater than my country. To worship my country as a god is to bring a curse upon it’. As the story unfolds, Sandip becomes angry with some of his countrymen for their failure to join the struggle as readily as he thinks they should (‘Some Mohamedan traders are still obdurate’). He arranges to deal with the recalcitrants by burning their meagre trading stocks and physically attacking them. Bimala has to acknowledge the connection between Sandip’s rousing nationalistic sentiments and his sectarian—and ultimately violent—actions. The dramatic events that follow (Nikhil attempts to help the victims, risking his life) include the end of Bimala’s political romance. This is a difficult subject, and Satyajit Ray’s beautiful film of The Home and the World brilliantly brings out the novel’s tensions, along with the human affections and

The Westphalian State in South Asia and Future Directions 149 disaffections of the story. It would, of course, be absurd to think of Sandip as Gandhi, but the novel gives a ‘strong and gentle’ warning, as Bertolt Brecht noted in his diary, of the corruptibility of nationalism, since it is not even-handed. 9. Smith defines an ‘ethnic community’ as a group with a common name, a myth of common ancestry, shared memories, a common culture, a link with a historic territory or homeland, and a measure of common solidarity (1986: 22–30). David Miller suggest five elements which constitute a community: shared belief and mutual commitment, extended in history, active in character, connected to a particular territory, and marked off from other communities by a distinct public culture (1997: 27). 10. This would be analogous to the nation-state as imagined by Benedict Anderson (1983: 7–8). 11. Civic nationalism, which we can find in France and the United States, defines the ‘nation’ in terms of the willingness of its people to adhere to a certain set of civic values and rules with jus soli (or citizenship by birthplace) as the norm. The focus of allegiance is the state and its institutions, which also implies a high degree of cultural assimilation as the price to be paid by ethnic groups for their integration in society. Ethnic nationalism, which we can find in Germany and Poland, defines the ‘nation’ in terms of ethnic origin and birth; nationality is determined by jus sanguinis, that is by ancestry and blood-ties, rather than by residence, choice and commitment.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Anderson, Benedict. 1983. Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. London: Verso. Ashcroft, Bill et al. 1989. The Empire Writes Back. London: Routledge. Ashcroft, Bill, Gareth Griffiths and Helen Tiffin (eds). 1995. The Post-colonial Studies Reader. New York: Routledge. Barker, Francis et al. (eds). 1985. Europe and its Others, (2 vols.). Colchester: University of Essex. Bauman, Zygmunt. 1997. Postmodernity and Its Discontents. New York: New York University Press. Benoist, Alain de. 1993/94. ‘The Idea of Empire’, Telos, Nos. 98–99: 81–98. Berlin, Isaiah. 1997. ‘Rabindranath Tagore and the Consciousness of Nationality’, in Henry Hardy (ed.), The Sense of Reality: Studies in Ideas and Their History. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Bhabha, Homi (ed.). 1990. Nation and Narration. London: Routledge. ————–. 1994. The Location of Culture. London: Routledge. Billig, Michael. 1995. Banal Nationalism. London: Sage Publications.

150 Mijarul Quayes Broomfield, J.H. 1968. Elite Conflict in a Plural Society: Twentieth-Century Bengal. Berkeley, University of California Press. Calvocoressi, Peter. 1998. ‘The European State in the Twentieth Century and Beyond’, International Relations, 14(1): 1–6. Chowdhury, Subrata Roy. 1972. The Genesis of Bangladesh. Kolkata: Asia Publishing House. Davin, Anna. ‘Imperialism and Motherhood’, in History Workshop, 5(1978): 9–66. Derrida, Jacques. 1998. Of Grammatology. Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press. Galbraith, John Kenneth. 1969. Ambassador’s Journal: A Personal Account of the Kennedy Yeras. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Harun-ur-Rashid. 2003. The Foreshadowing of Bangladesh: Bengal Muslim League and Muslim Politics, 1906–1947. Dhaka: The University Press. Hodgson, Godfrey. 1993. ‘Grand Illusion: The Failure of European Consciousness’, World Policy Journal, 10(2): 13–24. Islam, Sirajul (ed.). 2000. History of Bangladesh 1704–1971, 3 vols. (2nd edn.). Dhaka: Asiatic Society of Bangladesh. ————–. (ed.). 2003. Banglapedia, vol. 5. Dhaka: Asiatic Society of Bangladesh. Jameson, Fredric. 1992. Postmodernism, Or, the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalis. Durham: Duke University Press. Krasner, Stephen D. 1999. Sovereignty: Organized Hypocrisy. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Lieven, Anatol. 1997. ‘Qu’est-ce Qu’une Nation?’, The National Interest, 49: 10–22. Malcolm, Noel. 1997/98. ‘Critique of Lieven’s Account’, The National Interest, 50 (Winter 1997/98). Manent, Pierre. 1996. ‘On Modern Individualism’, Journal of Democracy, 7(1): 3–10. Milward, Alan S. (with the assistance of George Brennan and Frederico Romero). 1992. The European Rescue of the Nation-State. Berkeley/Los Angeles: University of California Press. Morrison, Andrew. 1996. British Business and Protection 1903–32. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Nussbaum, Martha C. et al. 1996. For Love of Country, edited by Joshua Cohen, Boston. MA: Beacon Press. Robertson, R. 1990. ‘After Nostalgia? Wilful Nostalgia and the Phase of Globalization’, in Bryan S. Turner (ed.), Theories of Modernity and Postmodernity. London: Sage Publications. Said, Edward. 1978. Orientalism. New York: Pantheon. ————–. 1993. Culture and Imperialism. London: Chatty and Windus. Sarkar, Shyamol. 2000. ‘Rabindranath Tagore’s Concept of Social Integration’, in Asha Mukherjee, Sabujkali Sen, K. Bagchi (eds), Cultural Heritage and Contemporary Change, Series IIIB, South Asia, Volume 6, Civil Society in Indian Cultures, Indian Philosophical Studies.

The Westphalian State in South Asia and Future Directions 151 Sen, Amartya. 1997. ‘Tagore and His India’. Available online at nobelprize.org/ nobel_prizes/literature/articles/sen Smith, Anthony D. 1995. Nations and Nationalism in a Global Era. Cambridge: Polity Press. Spivak, Gayatri. 1987. In Other Worlds. New York: Methuen. ————–. 1988. ‘Can the Subaltern Speak?’, in Cary Nelson and Lawrence Grossberg (eds), Marxism and the Interpretation of Culture. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. ————–. 1998. ‘Translator’s Preface’ to Jacques Derrida’s of Grammatology. Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press. ————–. 1999. Towards a History of the Vanishing Present. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Strikwerda, Carl. 1993. ‘The Troubled Origins of European Integration: International Iron and Steel and Labor Migration in the Era of World War I’, American Historical Review, 98(4): 1106–29. Tagore, Rabindranath. 1931. The Religion of Man, 2nd Edition. London: Unwin. Tönnies, Ferdinand. 1974. Community and Association. London: Routledge. Thompson, E.P. 1991. ‘Introduction’ to Tagore’s Nationalism. London: Macmillan. Tilly, Charles. 1990. Coercion, Capital and European States AD 990–1990. Cambridge, MA: Basil Blackwell. ————–. 2003. Contention and Democracy in Europe. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. van Ham, Peter and Przemyslaw Grudzinski. 1999/2000. ‘Affluence and Influence: The Conceptual Basis of Europe’s New Politics’, The National Interest, 58: 81–87. Wendt, Alexander. 1994. ‘Collective Identity Formation and the International State’, American Political Science Review, 88(2): 384–96. ————–. 1999. Social Theory of International Politics. Cambrige: Cambridge University Press. ————–. 2003. ‘Why a World State is Inevitable’, European Journal of International Relations, 9(4): 491–542. Williams, Patrick and Lauren Chrisman (eds). 1994. Colonial Discourse and Postcolonial Theory. New York: Columbia University Press. Wilson, Peter H. 1999. The Holy Roman Empire, 1495–1806. New York: St. Martin’s Press. Wintle, Michael. 1996. ‘Cultural Identity in Europe: Shared Experience’, in Michael Wintle (ed.), Culture and Identity in Europe: Perceptions of Divergence and Unity in Past and Present. Aldershot: Avebury.

7 Nepal From Authoritarianism to Democracy Ganga Bahadur Thapa

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he failure of authoritarian and totalitarian political regimes spurred a global surge of democratization in 1980s. However, as the studies of democratization experiences in Eastern Europe, Latin America, Asia, Africa, and elsewhere have shown, there are lingering institutional and political issues that inhibit the new democracies from achieving a level of pluralistic development that is comparable to those commonly found in many Western countries. Nepal is no exception. The people-powered pro-democracy movement had successfully challenged the despotic monarchy in 1990, which in turn, led to the framing of a new constitution and institutionalization of a parliamentary system transferring power to an elected prime minister. Though democratic institutions were created, other necessary preconditions like effervescent middle class, competitive party system, and resilient economy could not develop. This period of democratization has fostered both optimism and pessimism—optimism because there was smooth transfer of power from authoritarianism to an elected executive and pessimism because the rules of democratic game were increasingly thwarted due to the lack of democratic mindset, unmotivated monarchy, and a sound party system. Furthermore, emergence of left and right extremism in national politics turned it into a ‘pendulum democracy’. This chapter critically reviews the experiences that posed serious obstacles to consolidation of democracy in Nepal for which all political forces must discard confrontation and evolve consensus on the basic rules of game of power sharing.

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CONCEPTUAL OVERVIEW OF DEMOCRACY Democracy is a multi-faceted and much debated subject though at the same time, it continues to be a deeply-contested concept. Some may regard it as a means for making political decisions, others as something more substantive—providing a venue for ordinary people’s self-realization. Schumpeter offers a narrower formulation: ‘democracy is simply a political method, a mechanism for choosing political leadership. The citizens are given a choice among the rival political leaders who compete for their votes’ (Schumpeter 1976: 260). The contribution by Dahl is useful in defining democracy as a political system. He emphasized the responsiveness of the government toward the preferences of its citizens, as political equals, as a key characteristic of democracy (Dahl 1971). Though the concept of democracy lends to divergent interpretations, these invariably suggest a system of governance where the supreme power is bestowed upon the people. The period from the mid-1980s to 2000 had seen a major ‘wave’ of democratic fervour in virtually the whole of Eastern Europe and the erstwhile Soviet Union, Latin America, and to a lesser extent in Asia where many one-party regimes and other forms of repressive rule were toppled through people-powered revolts to bring about democracy. The defeat of communism in Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union was perhaps the most profound political metamorphosis that spurred the surge of pluralist society in which people exercised power through elections. The trend was a powerful reaction against totalitarian rule which controlled the economy, polity and society. Both imperial orders and authoritarian nationalism restrain the growth of democracy as they have basically no popular legitimacy and fail to achieve satisfactory economic progress. Due to the denial of basic human rights in such regimes, a new sense of appreciation for democratic governance emerges. In other words, liberal democracy as a system of governance has won over authoritarian ideologies such as hereditary monarchy, fascism, and more recently communism, thereby empowering the people. This trend has established democracy as the world’s most dominant political force without noteworthy exceptions though in the case of China, since the economic reforms are rapidly happening even in a politically

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authoritarian environment, the capability of state institutions has been successfully maintained, if not fortified further. Even while the conditions facilitating a transition to democracy were present in the early 1990s when Francis Fukuyama predicted the ‘End of History’, many newly-democratizing countries have been unable to make the profound changes required to consolidate democracy and so their edifices remain fragile and fragmentary. Fukuyama advocated that civil society requires the people to work together for common purpose and those who share a common set of norms and values such as democracy and liberalism need to adopt a predominantly non-violent mode of conflict resolution. Termed as ‘democratic enlargement’, Fukuyama’s key thesis, in fact, depends heavily on a Hegelian explication of political development that binds small principalities together into a unified nation where the person, group, social structure, and general culture form an organic whole (1992 and 1995). While there is an undeniable growth in the number of democracies throughout the world, many are still in a transitional phase. They do not exercise reasonable control over allocation of resources in the domestic sphere and often hurtle towards unmitigated conflicts in the absence of a strong political regulatory authority. This is partly because the long-lasting repression and social control have created aversion to any idea of maintaining a strong and unified state and partly due to the resolute political polarization among the new ruling elites of these countries. A number of factors contribute to this dismal state, which arises mainly from insufficient political empowerment and weak organizational skills. Although courts have become very powerful institutions following the collapse of authoritarian regimes in many parts of the world, they face a diverse set of constraints on independent action. Similarly, while the legislature holds out the promise of becoming an institution of countervailing power in some countries, it remains weak and has yet to play a larger role in the policy-making process and in exercising an effective check on executive power. It may be pointed out that the social capital which is necessary to underpin democratic institutions deteriorates or never develops under such pressure. It is also debatable whether countries have conducted reasonably free elections to form a democratic society. They often encounter many of the same difficulties

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that the fledging democracies face primarily due to their specific political and social contexts. Robert Dahl rightly points out: ‘democracy has such a lengthy history that it has contributed to confusion and disagreement, for democracy has meant different things to different people at different times and places’ (1998: 3). Today we tend to think that democratic societies should reject the use of force to resolve domestic issues and rely instead on compromises and nonzero-sum solutions, and thus, it is the most sought-after political system in the world. The study of democratization has, over the years, shifted its theoretical priorities from prerequisites to actor-based concerns of transition phase (Pridham 1991; Pridham, Herring and Sanford 1997). The abrupt fall of communism had promoted a strong interest towards the problems of democratic transition. Samuel P. Huntington sought to explain the transition of democratic regime in terms of economic, social, cultural and external factors. Writing in 1990, he observed that the ‘international wave of democratization that began in the mid-1970s was characterized by a virtual absence of major and democratic movements’ that posed ‘an explicit authoritarian alternative to a new democratic regime’. He defines a ‘wave’ as a group of transitions from non-democratic to democratic regimes that occur within a specified period of time. The assumption is that some kind of ‘snowball’ effect occurs during transition. He further explained what he calls ‘democratization effect’, which in other contexts has also been termed as ‘contagion’, ‘diffusion’, and ‘emulation’, and argued that many civilizations are incompatible and the world is rife with situations for potential clash. Huntington’s primary perception is concerned with the essential incompatibility of civilizations and in some sets of religion, race, language, geography, and history (1991 and 1997). In this context, Habermas endorses democracy as a way to rescue modern life from the economic and bureaucratic compulsion that Max Weber saw as an inescapable condition of modernity (Cited in Salam 2003). Similarly, Rawls maintains that although political liberalism is a moral conception, it applies only to the basic structure of a constitutional democratic regime (1993). Other scholars point out that success of a political system’s successful transition to democracy depends on the strength of its national economy. It is

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argued that those with good economic performances provide stable social support to the regime and give it strong institutional control over the democratization process and provide the regime with a better prospect to transform to some kind of stable democracy in the long run (Lipset 1994; Muller 1988). It is hard to build and sustain democratic institutions in a society divided sharply by income and wealth. This condition, it has been amply demonstrated, does not affect the emergence of democracy, but does affect its sustainability. The experiences of Spain, Brazil, South Korea and Taiwan strongly support this argument. Indeed, political transition has a great impact on the economic management institutional capabilities of a regime and that, in turn, determines the fate of a democratic transition. While many scholars have argued that unequal socio-economic distribution constitutes a threat to democratic consolidation, we can deduce that this is not necessarily true from the fact that India, despite having low growth rate, has maintained its democratic institutions for over five decades, while Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, etc., are relatively rich countries that are not democratic. But it cannot be said that India’s political process has matured because the politics has been characterized by a rising degree of confrontation between the governing and the opposition parties. Moreover, recent studies help us to understand not only that its record on human rights is much less than satisfactory, but it also has failed miserably to improve the living standards of ordinary people. Also, there are conflicts in the areas concerning religion, region, and ethnicity that lead to a variety of insurgency movements and pose severe restraints to ensure democracy because of which India has had to rely upon thousands of armed forces to deal with internal unrest. In other parts of South Asia, for example, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, and Nepal, their political culture is not only hierarchical and somewhat negative, but also the strength of democratic game is displayed on streets rather than in parliament. Moreover, the military has emerged as a major force in the decision-making process. This gives rise to frequent social unrests and loss of control over democratization process (Chadda 2000; Martin Hoftun, William Raeper and John Whelpton 1999). The political history of Pakistan shows that it has been ruled for longer periods by the military than by civilians.

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Clearly, all the states that embark on the path of democracy do not complete their transition. While some fall back into authoritarianism, others may explode into civil war. This is because sustaining a democracy involves several factors such as institutional development, enduring popular support, favourable social and economic conditions, and the depoliticization of military (O’Donnell and Schmitter 1985). In other words, democratization is neither a linear process nor does it occur in the same manner in different contexts, though it is often plagued by violent conflicts.

THE NEPALI CONTEXT Nepal is an important case study because despite significant advances, its transition to a fully democratic political system remains incomplete. It has a long history of authoritarian rule under a despotic monarchy whose sole purpose has been to grab resources and retain power.

Historical Background Ever since Nepal became a political entity through military conquest by the Gorkha ruler in 1768, its history can be divided into five main parts—royal autocracy under the Shah Kings (1768–1846) in which the King was the real ruler and the political system was essentially militarist in character followed by an oligarchy under the Rana rule (1846–1950) when the Shah Kings were made captive by the Ranas who had established their own hereditary line of prime ministers. The first democratic opening came about in the 1950s during which some democratic institutional frameworks were introduced and experimented with. However, the Shah Kings extended their earlier privileges through non-party politics of the Panchayat system (1960– 90) that was characterized by royal absolutism when all political activities other than sycophancy were either prohibited or condemned and an overwhelming majority of the people were alienated from the mainstream politics. Finally, a second democratic opening came about in 1990 which may be termed as the beginning of institutional democratic governance.

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The political system that followed after 1950 was a liberal polity in which ordinary Nepalis for the first time got an opportunity to build a modern nation-state and Nepali politics marched toward the first parliamentary election held in 1959. Nine political parties had contested the elections in which the Nepali Congress (NC) won with an overwhelming majority. Although the newly-elected government was striving to consolidate the parliamentary form of governance through democratic means, King Mahendra dissolved the parliament on 15 December 1960 and with the support from military and police, exercised the emergency powers laid down in Article 55 of the Constitution, thus bringing the first democratic opening to an abrupt end. The period of three decades of non-party Panchayat system, more correctly despotic monarchy that centralized the powers in the king was the second darkest phase for Nepal. While elections were held during the Panchayat era, political competition was severely limited. In the late 1970s, the yearning for democracy once again asserted itself through the student uprising that forced King Birendra to order a referendum to vote for the continuation of the non-party Panchayat system with prospects for further reforms or a multiparty system. The referendum was held on 2 May 1980 and it returned the Panchayat with a slim majority of 54.7 per cent of the total votes cast. Eventually, the constitution incorporated some democratic norms such as adult franchise and direct elections for the legislature, but did not allow political pluralism. The non-party system, however, crumbled in the face of popular movement in 1990 led by Nepali Congress and United Left parties.

Transition to Democracy The fifth Constitution of the Kingdom of Nepal 1990 was framed by the Constitution Drafting Committee. The earlier ones included Government Act 1948, the Interim Constitution of 1951, the Constitution of the Kingdom of Nepal 1959 and the Constitution of Nepal 1962. The new Constitution, like the earlier ones, was promulgated through royal proclamation but it provided for people’s sovereignty, multiparty parliamentary democracy, basic human rights

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and constitutional monarchy as its non-negotiable features. The transformation from non-party politics to a multiparty system was indeed a striking phenomenon that fundamentally changed the Nepali political system in three important ways: it transferred sovereignty from the king to the people; instituted a parliamentary form of government; and, the democratic rights of the people were guaranteed by the Constitution. Thus, in a country in which the king had a final voice and was the source of all powers and where his kith and kin and his loyal followers wielded absolute influence in the affairs of the state, the political change of 1990 was a radical beginning (Joshi and Rose 2004; Gupta 1993; Hoftun 1999). It provided for the rule of law, separation of powers and protection of basic liberties of speech and assembly, religion and property. It also recognized the diversity among the people. However, a significant proportion of Nepalese people continued to be discriminated along the lines of ethnicity. The power in all sectors of administration and society was virtually monopolized by a small elite section comprised mostly of Brahmins and Chhetris who comprise less than 30 per cent of the population. The other groups could have very little advantages from the social-political order and distribution of power, and thus, felt alienated from the state.1 More importantly, while power changed hands after the restoration of democracy in 1990, the top ruling elites came from the same social groups as their predecessors. For instance, the people of low-and tarai areas and dalits (untouchables) were not perceived as well qualified for the army or for higher positions in civil services. The Tibeto-Burman race remains at the core of society and has numerous sects and nationalities, but none is considered sufficiently qualified to occupy these offices. They also get few benefits from the state. Thus, in their struggle for power and resources, the people remained divided along urban-rural and caste-ethnic-religious lines (Thapa 1999a, 1999b). While there was no acute confrontation among the ethnic groups as elsewhere in Eastern Europe, former Soviet Republics and closer home, South Asia, it is important to recognize that ethnic differences do exacerbate animosities among diverse ethnic groups (Gaize and Scholz 1991). First, it is a cultural problem sharpened by a long feudal tradition where the rulers, not citizens, are the masters. Ethnic, religious and linguistic differences per se

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are not the causes of social tensions unless they are transformed and institutionalized to mirror the socio-economic and political inequalities causing a sense of denial and deprivation. Part of this crisis is due to the re-emergence of patrimonialism, a political culture where people support those in power who use the state accesses and resources for their own benefit, rather than to serve public interests. Even the Constitution framed after the people-power movement in 1990 was a compromise outcome of three political forces, namely the traditional monarchy, the Nepali Congress, and the communists and thus, had its flaws. Most importantly, it was neither endorsed by the people through referendum nor approved by the parliament. Even though the political developments in Nepal closely resemble the process of democratization after a regime collapse, the success of the royal coup of 1 February 2005 had thrown the country back into authoritarian governance. Of course, the Maoists emerged as a major factor after the collapse of the constitutional rule in October 2002, but it was the King’s February 2005 inferno that marked a decisive disruption in Nepal’s transition to democracy. Soon, Nepal was being governed in the fashion of a ‘quasi-terrorist aristocracy’, a situation in which all the powers rested with one person, King Gyanendra and the institutions functioned as a mere rubber stamp. The King centralized all powers in person by simultaneously holding the positions of the head of the state, head of the government and the supreme commander of the army. By arbitrarily granting powers to the army, police, and intelligence agencies, and at the same time curtailing civil liberties, the king effectively monopolized the political space, resources and governance. Nepal’s monarchy has, in fact, always refused to accept people’s supremacy and respect democratic Constitution and elected Parliament. After the collapse of Rana autocracy (1846–1950), for instance, King Tribhuvan did not keep his promise of convening a constituent assembly and single-handedly devised the new Constitution. King Mahendra demolished the first version of democracy and his successor, King Birendra maintained despotic monarchy through the Panchayat System (1960–90) after he succeeded to the throne in 1972. When his brother King Gyanendra took over power in 2005, he made it amply clear that he was not willing to compromise his militarybacked power with the Maoists through negotiations or to concede

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any ground to the political parties. The leaders of major political parties were, thus confronted with three choices: to go it alone, relying on their own strength; forging an alliance with the Maoist rebels; or, reviving the alliance with the king. Although there was no guarantee that the king would reciprocate them adequately, they did have enough space which they could use to strengthen their organizations and forge a broad coalition among heterogeneous political groups. They believed that the military-backed monarchy posed the biggest threat to democracy in Nepal. So, they decided to mobilize against the king in what they called ‘the final push for freedom’. Before attempting a critical analysis of the Nepalese experiments with democracy, it is important to first understand the role of the Maoist insurgency in challenging the despotic monarchy headed by the King Gyanendra.

Maoist Insurgency While Nepal has faced internal conflicts over the past nearly six decades, a full-blown insurgency had burst into the open with the launch of people’s war on 13 February 1996 by the Communist Party of Nepal-Maoists (CPN-M), commonly referred to as the Maoists. This marked the beginning of a protracted conflict called ‘janayuddha’ or ‘people’s war’, considered as a ‘war of liberation’ in Maoist terms. It was led by Pushpa Kamal Dahal alias Comrade ‘Prachanda’ who commanded the most radical offshoot of the left-wing spectrum in Nepali politics. One of the radical factions that operated within the multiparty process was the Samyukta Janamorcha (United People’s Front) which emerged as the third largest party in the 1991 Parliamentary elections, winning nine seats in the 205-member House of Representatives. Differences between its leaders, viz. Baburam Bhattarai and Niranjan Govind Vaidya, led to its split on the eve of 1994 mid-term elections. The Bhattarai faction boycotted the election while the Vaidyas did not win a seat. Comrade Prachanda, a high-caste Hindu hill Brahmin, who had been leading the Mashal faction (a radical branch of communist party) and Baburam joined hands to form the Communist Party of NepalMaoists in 1995. On 12 February 1996, the janayudhha started in the

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three western mountain districts of Rolpa, Rukum and Jajarkot. Politically, it sought an end to the feudal rule of monarchy by establishing a secular state through a constituent assembly which would draft a completely new Constitution (Thapa and Sijapati 2003; Maharjan 2000; Bearden and Kelley 2004). While communism may be on a decline elsewhere, in Nepal, it seems to have grown in geometric progression which has shaken the very foundation of parliamentary democracy. Maoist insurrection must be seen as a multidimensional phenomenon—economic, political, cultural and psychological—and indeed as a total social fact. Their 40-point agenda2 submitted to the then Prime Minister Sher Bahadur Deuba can be examined around three key dimensions—democracy, self-reliant economy and nationhood that constitute the central axes of the political debate today. At the same time, the issues fuelling the conflict include the regional imbalance in the distribution of resources in hills, tarai region, cities, and villages, social and political inequalities, ethnic/caste frustrations, discrimination against minorities and disadvantaged who get little or no share in the military, police or civil services and are excluded from the national mainstream. While such issues are a source of concern in other newly-democratized countries, in Nepal, these excluded groups do not often perceive themselves even as citizens in normal political sense. Such deeprooted inequities in the society perhaps explain the rapid spread of Maoists from remote Rolpa, Rukum and Jajarkot areas to all the 75 districts of Nepal. According to some estimates, around a quarter of Nepal’s 27 million people are considered to be living under Maoist influence (Conflict Prevention Initiative Report 2001). It is important to note that the above-mentioned districts that formed the Maoists’ heartland had all but slipped off the government’s map because there was no civil government or development activity. Over the years, the conflict began to acquire several features of a civil war with a very high casualty rate. Since the initiation of insurgency in February 1996, over 15,000 persons mainly including security personnel and insurgents but also civilians, have lost their lives. There have been conflicting interpretations of the Maoist insurgency. To many, it appears as terrorism; to the Maoists, it is peasants’

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uprising against feudal order; while for some others, it is a case of ‘revolutionary romanticism’.3 It is also viewed as a communist revolution or as an ethnic alliance against high-caste Hindu-dominated political elites. Such conflicts may arise due to fundamental differences among socially and politically conscious groups over allocation of societal resources and lack of power and self-esteem, ethnic discrimination, socio-economic deprivation, disenfranchisement, and legacy of slavery and hierarchy. Its ideological baggage is a mixed bag of pro-proletarian and extremist theories borrowed from Lenin, Mao and Che Guevara and it mushroomed during the multi-party rule. Though Maoists’ power base at the centre remains to be tested, their dominance in rural areas is formidable where the government had either withdrawn or was forced out through an effective use of its strategy in three important phases of strategic defence (guerrilla warfare), power balance (sustained face-to-face confrontation with the state security forces), and final assault (armed rebellion aimed at seizing power). Unlike the secessionist movements elsewhere in South Asia, the Nepali insurgency was substantially an internal political conflict in which both sides were battling to change or maintain the status quo of power structures within the state. The existence of the state itself was not at threat because none of the conflicting parties had the ambition to change the borders or the population structure of the state. However, the insurgency is dangerous because any communist takeover in Nepal would have serious geo-political consequences, buffeted as it is between the two Asian powers, India and China. It can pose a security problem to both since the insurgents have links with the rebellion groups in India and Nepal and indeed other South Asian countries. The Maoists are reported to have received support from People’s War Group in Andhra Pradesh and Maoist Coordination Centre in Bihar of India and they have crucial links with the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam of Sri Lanka. They have also received training from these groups in India as indeed their international ideological cousins, namely the Revolutionary International Movement (RIM). They are also the key constituents of Coordination Centre of Maoist Parties and Organizations of South Asia (CCOMPOSA), an umbrella organization of South Asian rebels that cooperates with each other for advancing their common

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goals. The training and fiscal support received from these groups, however, cannot account for the longevity and enduring strength of the Maoist movement in Nepal. On the other hand, they have certainly benefited militarily from the extensively-trained retired British Army Gurkhas who inhabit many of the Maoist-controlled regions throughout the country. The Nepali conflict cannot be resolved without addressing the issues that gave rise to it. In fact, the Maoists emerged at the centre of national politics due to underdeveloped political institutions and their inability to control the uprising. After a disastrous year, the adversaries once more ceased killing in January 2003 to return to the negotiating table at the urging of Western nations and King Gyanendra. It was argued that the struggle had reached ‘strategic equilibrium’, the point where both parties realized that neither could defeat the other through military means alone. After the ceasefire, both made cautious concessions to demonstrate their commitment to the peace process such as exchange of prisoners. The government withdrew the terrorist tags on the Maoists who signalled their mellowed stance towards the monarchy and both agreed upon a 22-point code of conduct to discuss substantive issues. As opposed to the previous two rounds of peace talks, both the government officials and Maoist representatives made overtures in the initial weeks of the latest round, contributing to a tense but welcome period of peace. But the negotiations were snapped yet again in late August 2003. The government did not agree to the Maoists’ demand to hold constituent assembly elections which would also decide the fate of the monarchy. Some feared that the continuation of insurgency could result in Nepal becoming a ‘failed state’ (Zartman 1995 and 2001) though these fears were laid to rest when the 19-day people’s movement, or Jana Andolan II in April 2006 forced King Gyanendra to relinquish power. This proved that the king, his army and guns were no match for peoples’ power. There is no doubt, however, that if the Maoists had not agreed to come to the political mainstream through the 12-point understanding with seven-party alliance (SPA), the king’s assertive rule would not have been ended for several more years. Though the full implications of the SPA-Maoists pact are yet to be understood, the signing of the 21 November 2006 peace accord was a historic achievement.

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POSTSCRIPT: THE CONSTITUENT ASSEMBLY ELECTION On 10 April 2008, Nepal held elections to the Constituent Assembly (CA). Various methodologies can be employed to measure the disastrous debacles of NC and UML. It is hard to conclude succinctly, yet in power politics, when citizens frequently find themselves to be losers due to government decisions, it is likely that they would challenge the political authority in elections. Although the transition towards democracy in Nepal in the decade of the 1990s was characterized by the electoral success of the government, it became more and more frustrating to observe political, social or economic development. Unable to establish the rules of political games, what followed the collapse of the autocratic partyless panchayat system was an immensely degenerated form of parliamentary politics. Focussing on domestic politics, it can also be said that the political incapacity of the leaders to reconstruct society, their brutal failure to develop models for internal stability and the people’s unfulfilled desires together catalyzed the armed struggle launched by the Maoists. Still, there was a false hope and they fell into their own trap. The move towards the Left was triggered due to insufficient attention to institutional mechanisms of change adopted after the demise of autocratic regime. There was no authoritative figure with stature and integrity to lead the transition, nor a diligent mediator among the parties to provide a framework of legitimacy and identity to maintain law and order. Even more shocking was the sheer inability to handle the expressions of grievances coming from significant parts of the population to which a state must respond successfully to deliver goods and services as expected. While the opportunity to tackle various issues got lost, provisions were not made for political representation, social participation, self-determination, equitable power sharing, or even for a way of determining what is equitable. When conceptualized in a broader sense, it is not that the window of opportunities was narrow; it is rather that political deconstruction to act quickly and decisively to reach the masses and thus ensure their support for democratic movement, particularly to get a chance to influence Nepal’s progress toward democracy effectively is needed. In such circumstances, politics had become a rapid search towards occupying an office rather than an opportunity to

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serve for the public good. The crude fact is that had the leaders of various regimes responded to the situation responsibly and remained faithful to the people, they could have changed the course of events. The revolution that began in 1990 actually brought forth guerilla insurgency and the subsequent uprising of April 2006 and CA election. This can be termed as a distinct chapter in the lengthy process of the emergence of the new Nepali nation. The rise of Maoists’ influence and its implications are multidimensional. But the paramount proposition about Nepali culture is that the values, beliefs and attitudes of Nepalis, albeit in a limited form, have changed them significantly from what they were a couple of decades ago. By itself, this may not be particularly remarkable. Yet the important point is that one is inclined to believe that Nepalis can frame political issues in terms of various rights and freedom. Moreover, the synergy created by the Maoists indicates that their ideology and democracy may be compatible. It is abundantly clear that the stagnant equilibrium of three major forces—the palace, the political parties and the Maoist rebels—has now been swept away. It is natural that the international community as well as scholars of world politics, including segments of the educated Nepali population, continue to harbour the suspicion that the Maoists have a secret agenda of turning Nepal into a radicalized state. Available evidence, however, suggest a trial-and-error pattern that is likely to persist for the sake of democratic norms. One may argue that Maoists’ perceptions and practices form a heartening paradox in the wake of their spectacular success in CA elections in spite of the fall of communism elsewhere, but it might be a soft version of Maoism engrossed in economic, humanitarian and democratization projects in line with Western values; it may not undermine state authority nor have unstable transition. There is no easy path to bestow power to the people. Moreover, socio-politically weak states having no legitimate or effective institutions are ever prone to instability and conflicts. But, ironically, the remnants of authoritarian rule responsible for fragile democracy can favourably affect the balance of power during the democratization process as authoritarian elites would work hard to construct overt and covert rules of the game to protect their core interests. It also increases the ability of authoritarian leadership and its supporters to

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subvert transition and even initiate reversal since all regimes tend to rely on the key support of certain groups. Yet the important issue is whether in a world where people are free to choose, where political freedoms are universally upheld, and where information is more freely available, those at the helms are able to maintain a cohesive national strategy and handle nation building that lead to stability, accountability, democracy, and development. Some might question how tenets of democracy can be practised and protected unless Maoists become integrated in the international market, which considers only those who embrace liberal democracy to be legitimate. But every action results from a choice among alternatives. Is it not a positive achievement that a stubborn Maoist rebellion that broke out in poor western districts, partly because politicians failed to address the causes of popular distress and partly because they lacked resources and ideas to combat a guerilla movement, that took over 15 thousand human lives and their destructive power grew like a tornado, has got the historic opportunity to build a New Nepal? Of course, the ground realities are intricate and risky due to the characteristic social fabric. But politically, the fact that the Maoists have entered a new era and they no longer have the power to threaten democratic order can be understood by the defeat of their insurgency that had emerged in 1996. In addition, no matter how devastating the insurgency was, the events that eventually followed have legitimized its achievements. Undoubtedly, the insurrection against the liberal democracy can now be viewed from the standpoint of dialectic role of the state, which prompts to show how sincere they are in their desire to promote democracy through the process recognized by the international community. Since Nepal is dominated by ethnic nationalism, clash of identities, conflicts of interest, and exclusive vision, it must have a democratic regime that emphasizes compromises and accommodations to bring about profound changes in the modus operandi of the state. Identifying the direction and nature of change in political culture is a difficult enterprise. It seems obvious that changes will have to be introduced, both in the structure of government and in the way political life is organized. This is understandable too. However, the transition to democracy proceeds more peacefully when the institutions needed for functioning of democratic society are

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already in place. South Africa, for example, had experienced a relatively successful transition because of the legacy of well-developed whites-only civic institutions (a rationalized bureaucracy, rule of law, elections, parliament, political parties, schools, and professionalized media.) that it inherited from the Apartheid regime which expanded to include the whole population after the transition. More modestly, redemocratizing a state like Nepal with a long legacy of authoritarian rule is more likely to face problems than those with shorter authoritarian experience having greater ability to overthrow new democracy. Policies in Nepal need to be fine-tuned in order to protect democracy and promote economic growth, there should be commitment to replace sham or rigged democracy by true democracy that empowers the people at grassroots. Even if the CA election is a white water passage, the evidence is not conclusive because a product of poorly designed institutions can lead to an increasingly unruly electorate—a primary factor contributing to the growth of what many political commentators label as ‘democratic deficit.’ In this sense, even if the CA election has opened a new chapter in the history of modern Nepal, any transformation without having meaningful social and political negotiation and with authoritarian overtones is likely to lead to intense political instability and ultimate failure.

A CRITICAL ANALYSIS History has shown that transition to democracy generally takes one of the four routes. One arises from the defeat in a war followed by the imposition of democracy by an outside power, as in Germany and Japan in the aftermath of World War II. Second, a faction of moderate elements may encourage democratization from within the authoritarian regime and initiate a period of liberalization, as was the case in Latin America, Southern Europe and Russia. Third, political mobilization by a cross-class alliance among those excluded from power may succeed in forcing out the elites and bring about a democratic government, as in the case of Philippines, Nicaragua, Czechoslovakia and many African countries. Finally, a sustained political mobilization from below by the working class actors can

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force the regime to negotiate a transition to democracy, as was the case in South Africa, El Salvador and Nepal. In Nepal, while the successful transition to democratic rule in 1990 opened a window of opportunity, it could not establish firm roots mainly because the new ruling elites failed to bring about systemic changes in the state’s power structures, especially in reining in the monarchy. The power base of the monarchy was not undermined. Furthermore, political parties were not able to expand their own political support base in the vast peripheral areas outside the seat of power—Kathmandu. The inner sphere or the nucleus of Nepali society was composed of elite decision-makers who controlled the power and wealth of the country. The subsequent rings of society emanated towards the periphery, with the ring on the extreme periphery representing the groups that were most distant from and dissatisfied with the centre and mechanism of power. In the process, ordinary men and women invariably got excluded because the state was insensitive and any access allowed to them was selective at best. The extreme periphery consisted of the majority of rural population, predominantly peasants, who lacked political representation and economic opportunities. This phenomenon may be understood by drawing insights from the structural conflict theory that sees conflict as a direct result of the socio-economic structure, with the society divided into various spheres of power with tensions rising due to the imbalance between the nucleus and the periphery. The vast majority of Nepalese lacked political and economic empowerment which constricted the functioning of state. This was partly due to the personality-driven nature of Nepalese political leadership. All the political forces—radical or moderate, national or regional, old or new—continued to be overshadowed by the individual personalities of the upper class coterie which decided everything for the party. Power was totally centralized at the top with little say for the party rank and file which aggravated the crisis of participation in a democracy. The catch-all nature of Nepali political parties also posed a serious problem for the growth of democracy. Nepal is home to the richest array of political groups ranging from those devoted to democratic order to those questioning the constitution while others propound extra-constitutional methods and outright subversion. This is a serious issue because not

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only were there political differences among the parties on key issues, but the rules of game for democratic institutionalization were also violently contested. In Nepal, the political leadership is formalistic and indecisive, espousing linear views on political development, and focussed on material factors. Also, ideological distinctions have featured minimally in the competitions among political forces and tactical moves have always been in vogue to retain political power. Ironic as it may seem, the loyalty of anybody—from the king to a democracy proponent—is directed foremost to one’s family, then close friends, then local community, and lastly to the people on the periphery or even totally outside it. On the positive side, civil society and press made a significant contribution during the era of despotic monarchy. Civil society can give voice to stakeholders, promote public education, fuel public debate, and improve the transparency and accountability of regulatory agencies. Civil society includes neighbourhood associations, literacy and scientific societies and professional groups. In the Nepalese context, the constituents of civil society such as teachers, lawyers, professors, artists and journalists were largely instrumental in bringing down the despotic monarchy in 1990 and even more so during Jana Andolan II in 2006. But they failed to transform themselves into effective institutions of the Nepali society as many of them were blatantly partisan and were concentrated in urban areas, particularly in the capital Kathmandu and hence, lost their credibility and effectiveness as a popular force. Moreover, they cannot become an independent watchdog because non-state support to civic political activities is absent. Mainstream political parties, especially those at the helm of affairs, have usually shied away from supporting civil society initiatives though precisely for those reasons, they do get support from the opposition political parties. Likewise, the media, which constitutes one of the strongest pillars of a democratic state is still developing and has often proved to be unduly biased. The print media is concentrated in urban areas, and thus reaches a relatively small proportion of the population. Only the radio has an outreach into the countryside but it is largely state-owned. Though there has been a growth in private broadcasting in recent years, especially TV and FM radio, these stations cater exclusively to an urban and periurban audience. AM and short and/or medium wave broadcasting,

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the chief means of information for the rural population, remains a state monopoly and hence continue to serve the interests of those in power. With only three national and two local elections held in 15 years, an institutional framework of mass politics in Nepal has yet to take roots. It suffers from tensions between conflict and consensus— a phenomenon Diamond describes in terms of a ‘democratic paradox’—a situation where a country has the opportunity to formalize democratic procedures, but soon gets involved in conflicts leading to systematic use of force and the result is a zero-sum game (Diamond 1995). It has been over a decade and half now that Nepal moved to multiparty rule and even undergone Jana Andolan II, that cleared the way for the creation of a new Constitution that could leave monarchy largely powerless or even eliminate it altogether and dismantle the traditional power structures antithetical to democracy. The monarchy has now been widely considered as a regressive force that does not find favour with any important political forces in the state. Whether Nepal will become really democratic remains a valid question; Nepalese are not overtly optimistic about their political future. Virtually all the principal forces that matter— the monarchy, the Maoists, and the political parties—seem to be thinking tactically rather than strategically and their sole motive is to grab power and resources. This is the nub of the problem. A democracy must grow from the people. No political system can achieve stability and legitimacy without doing something for the people. Nepal’s experiment with democracy indicates that political transition and consolidation constitute two quite distinct processes of political change and that success in the first does not necessarily ensure similar success in the second. Nepal is at a critical juncture today. Consolidating the democracy calls for undertaking a series of far-reaching measures including the elections for a constituent assembly to write a new statute for the nation and initiate a public debate over the need for some form of proportional representation system (PR) to give equitable representation to different sections of the society especially women, minorities and other disadvantaged groups. They must evolve a long-term view of changing the rules of the game for power sharing.

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The extremists among left and right both must understand that peace, security and corruption-free governance can prevail only under the supremacy of democracy. People are now undeniably concerned about their well-being after a long, continuing and deadly period of violence and strife. It is time to prove that the peoples’ movement was not in vain. The monarchy has been abolished by the newlyelected Constituent Assembly. There are a number of clouds on the horizon for promoting democratic standards. Yet, Nepal’s political future is largely dependent upon the emerging class structure and class relations as well as adequate representational rights of the marginalized communities in keeping the country intact and having economic and political reforms. What Nepal needs is an associational democracy in which civil society organizations form part of a broader institutional infrastructure that helps make democracy work at both the small organizational level and in large national scale. This calls for building institutional power in each sector of society, for if economic reforms and political development enrich only a few as in the past, then the transition is likely to turn into new form of vicious struggle. The future, as usual, is unknown, but the deftness of Maoists is also unsurpassed.

Acknowledgements Part of this article is based on the author’s work titled ‘Nepal: Democracy in Transition’ at Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars, Washington, DC (from September 2000 through June 2001).

ENDNOTES 1. In Nepal, the number of such ethnic groups are fifty-nine, mostly TibetoBurman, who occupy some 40 per cent of the total population. And another 20 per cent are Hindus belonging to the so-called untouchable castes. The caste system lies fundamentally rooted in Hindu religion though it was legally abolished by the public laws of 1962 and continues to function as universal and salient social and cultural category. The caste groups take almost no share in the social-political order and distribution of power (Bista 1991).

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2. These include: (a) Abrogate all unequal agreement with India including 1950 Peace and Friendship Treaty; (b) Control and regulate Nepal-India open border; (c) Close Gorkha Recruitment centers and create dignified employment within the country; (d) Provide employment to all Nepalese, and employ the foreigners if unavoidable only under work permit system; (e) Stop imperialistic and expansionist culture; (f) Establish a Constitution through elected representatives; (g) Abolish the privileges of the King and the royal family; (h) Establish control of the people over army, police and administration; (i) Declare Nepal a secular state; (j) Allow a share of the paternal property to daughters; (k) Distribute the land to the tillers and excess land to the landless; (l) Confiscate the property of the exploiting capitalistic class for ultimate nationalization and so on. Some other highprofile Maoist demands included the drafting of a new republican constitution through a constituent assembly and radical redistribution of land and property. 3. For further elaboration on the nature of Nepali conflict, see Aditya 2002, which gives a short overview of the Maoist movement, the nature of the problem and how to best deal with it. The author suggests that the government’s approach of minimizing the problem has been wrong and that what one is dealing with is actually a full-fledged internal war. It also advances the argument of six major characteristics of the insurgency, for example: (a) revolutionary in nature with a definite objective; (b) fairly long history; (c) certain territorial base; (d) ability to carve a certain niche in the political space of the land; (e) leaders of the movement able to draw public attention; and (f) movement with support base in the neighborhood and links overseas. See also Thapa 2006: 42–61.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Aditya, Anand. 2002. ‘People’s War in the Nepalese Hills: Retracing the Roots and the Role of Revolutionary Movements in a Himalayan State’. Kathmandu: Seminar Paper, 8–9 June. Azar, Edward E. 1990. The Management of Protracted Social Conflict: Theory and Cases. Gower: Brookfield, VT. Barber, Benjamin R. 2000. A Passion for Democracy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Bearden, Deanna and Robert Kelley. 2004. ‘The People’s War of Nepal: A Conflict Analysis’, International Affairs Review, 13(1). Barkan, Joel D. 2002. ‘Democracy in Africa: What Future?’, Reprinted in Harvard International Review, 24(2): 72–77. Bista, Dor Bahadur. 1991. Fatalism and Development: Nepal’s Struggle for Modernization. Calcutta: Orient Longman.

174 Ganga Bahadur Thapa Blaikie, Piers, John Cameron and David Seddon. 1980. Nepal in Crisis: Growth and Stagnation at the Periphery. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Chadda, Maya. 2000. Building Democracy in South Asia: India, Nepal, Pakistan. Colorado: Lynne Rienner Publishers. Claphan, C. 1993. ‘Democratization in Africa: Obstacles and Prospects’, ECPR Paper l. Conflict Prevention Initiative Report. 2001. ‘Setting Priorities for Preventive Action in Nepal’. Available at www.preventconflict.org/portal/nepal/nepal_ finalreport.pdf Dahl, Robert A. 1971. Polyarchy: Participation and Opposition. New Haven: Yale University Press. ————–. 1998. On Democracy. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Davis, Anthony. 2000. ‘The Rumbles Grow Louder: A Maoist Revolt Gets International Attention, Asia Week, 26(9), 10 March. Available at http: //www. asiaweek.com/asiaweek/magazine/2000/0310/nat.nepal.maosism.html Dhungel, Surya P., Bipin Adhikari, B.P. Bhandari and Chris Murgatroyd (eds). 1998. Commentary on the Nepalese Constitution. Kathmandu: DeLF. Diamond, Larry. 1991. ‘Three Paradoxes of Democracy’, Journal of Democracy, l(3): 48–60. ————–. 1995. Promoting Democracy in the 1990s: Actors and Instruments, Issues and Imperatives. A Report to the Carnegie Commission on Preventing Deadly Conflict, New York. ————–. 1997. ‘Is the Third Wave of Democracy Over? An Empirical Assessment’, Working Paper no. 236, the Kellogg Institute for International Studies, University of Notre Dame. ————–. 1999. Developing Democracy Toward Consolidation. Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press. Fukuyama, Francis. 1992. The End of History and the Last Man. New York: Avon Books Inc. ————–. 1995. Trust: The Social Virtues and the Creation of Prosperity. New York: Penguin. Gaize, Fred and John Scholz. 1991. ‘Political Freedom and Political Stability: Nepal’s 1991 Parliamentary Elections in Nepal’, Asian Survey, 11(11): 1040–60. Gunther, Richard, P. Nikiforos Diamandours and Hans-Jurgen Puhle. 1995. The Politics of Democratic Consolidation: Southern Europe in Comparative Perspective. Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press. Gupta, Anirudha. 1993. Politics in Nepal 1950–60. Delhi: Kalinga. Held, David. 1996. Models of Democracy. California: Stanford University Press. Hoftun, Martin, John Whelpton and William Raeper. 1999. People, Politics and Ideology: Democracy and Social Change in Nepal. Kathmandu: Mandala Book Point. Huntington, Samuel P. 1991. The Third Wave: Democratization in the late Twentieth Century. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press.

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Huntington, Samuel P. 1997. The Clash of Civilizations. New York, Touchstone: Rockefeller Center. International Crisis Group Report. 2003. No. 57 titled Nepal: Obstacles to Peace, 17 June, Kathmandu/Brussels. Joshi, Bhuvan Lal and Leo E. Rose. 2004. Democratic Innovations in Nepal: A Case Study of Political Acculturation (Reprint). Kathmandu: Mandala Book Point. Kumar, Dhruba (ed). 2000. Domestic Conflict and Crisis of Governability in Nepal. Kathmandu: Centre for Nepal and Asian Studies. Linz, Juan J. and Alfred Stepan. 1996. Problems of Democratic Transition and Consolidation: Southern Europe, South America, and Post-Communist Europe. Baltimore: The John Hopkins University Press. Lipset, S.M. 1994. ‘The Social Requisites of Democracy Revisited’, American Sociological Review, 59(1): 1–22. Maharjan, Pancha Narayan. 2000. ‘The Maoist Insurgency and Crisis of Governability in Nepal’, in Dhruba Kumar (ed.), Domestic Conflict and Crisis of Governability in Nepal, pp. 163–96. Kathmandu: Centre for Nepal and Asian Studies. Mainwaring, Scott, Guillermo O’Donnell and J. Samuel Valenzuela (eds). 1992. Issues in Democratic Consolidation: The New South American Democracies in Comparative Perspective. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press. Mainwaring, Scott and Timothy R. Scully. 1995. Building Democratic Institutions: Party Systems in Latin America. California: Stanford University Press. Miall, Hugh, Oliver Ramsbotham and T. Woodhouse. 1999. Contemporary Conflict Resolution: The Prevention Management and Transformation of Deadly Conflicts. Brookfield, VT: Ashgate. Mohanty, Manoranjan, Partha Nath Mukerji with Olle Tornquist (eds). 1998. People’s Rights: Social Movements and the State in the Third World. New Delhi: Sage Publications. Muller, E. 1988. ‘Democracy, Economic Development and Income Inequality’, American Sociological Review, 53(1): 50–68. O’Donnell, Guillermo. 1985. Transitions from Authoritarian Rule: Tentative Conclusions about Uncertain Democracies. Baltimore: John Hopkins Press. ————–. 1999. Counterpoints: Selected Essays on Authoritarianism and Democratization. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press. Political Science Association of Nepal (POLSAN). 1991. Nepalese Voters: A Survey Report. Kathmandu: POLSAN. ————–. 1992. Political Parties and the Parliamentary Process in Nepal: A Study of the Transitional Phase. Kathmandu: POLSAN. Pridham, Geoffrey (ed.). 1991. Encouraging Democracy: The International Context of Regime Transition in Southern Europe. Leicester: Leicester University Press. ————–. 1998. ‘Theorizing about Democratization and Lessons form Europe’, Annual Conference of the Japanese Political Science Association, 2–4 October, Kyoto, Japan.

176 Ganga Bahadur Thapa Pridham, Geoffrey, E. Herring and G. Sanford (eds). 1997. Building Democracy? The International Dimensions of Democratization in Eastern Europe. Leicester: Leicester University Press. Rawls, J. 1993. Political Liberalism. New York: Columbia University. Salam, Reihan. 2003. ‘Habermass vs. Weber, On Democracy’, Critical Review, 15(1–2): 59–86. Schumpeter, Joseph. 1976. Capitalism, Socialism and Democracy. London: Allen and Unwin. Schmitter, Philippe C. 1985. Transitions from Authoritarian Rule: Tentative Conclusions about Uncertain Democracies. Baltimore: John Hopkins Press. Seddon, David. 1990. Nepal: A State of Poverty. New Delhi: Vikas Publishing House. Shrestha, Anand P. and Hari Uprety. 2003. Conflict Resolution and Governance in Nepal. Kathmandu: Nepal Foundation for Advanced Studies. Shrestha, Nanda R. 1998. In the Name of Development: A Reflection on Nepal. Kathmandu: Educational Enterprise. Sorensen, Georg. 1998. Democracy and Democratization: Processes and Prospects in a Changing World. Colorado: Westview Press. Thapa, Deepak and Bandita Sijapati. 2003. A Kingdom Under Siege: Nepal’s Maoist Insurgency, 1996 to 2003. Kathmandu: The Printhouse. Thapa, Ganga Bahadur. 1996. ‘Democracy: The Nepalese Experience’, Nepali Political Science and Politics, Annual Journal of Political Science Association of Nepal, 5: 1–27. ————–. 1999a. ‘Political Transition in Nepal: Whither Democratization?’, Pakistan Horizon, 52(2): 19–43. ————–. 1999b. ‘Democracy in Transition’, in Ganga Bahadur Thapa (ed.), Decentralization and Good Governance in Nepal, pp. 1–21. Kathmandu: POLSAN. ————–. 2006. ‘The Nepalese Dilemma: Conflict and Crisis in Democracy’, Readings on Governance and Development. Kathmandu: Institute of Governance and Development (January 2006), 6: 42–61. Thapa, Ganga Bahadur and Karl-Heinz Kramer. 2004. ‘The Communist Party of Nepal (UML): Ideology at the Crossroads’, in Subrata K. Mitra, Mike Enskat and Clemens Spiess (eds), Political Parties in South Asia, pp. 301–28. Westport, CT: Praeger. ————–. 2000. ‘Democracy in Multiethnic Societies: The South Asian Perspective’, ICCLP Review (International Center for Comparative Law and Politics), Graduate School for Law and Politics, The University of Tokyo, 3(1): 95–101. Tiwari, C.K. 2002. ‘Maoist Insurgency in Nepal: Internal Dimensions and External Implications’, in Asia Society, New York, 5 June. Wood, Elisabeth Jean. 2000. Forging Democracy from Below: Insurgent Transitions in South Africa and El Salvador. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Zartman, William. 1995. Collapsed States: The Disintegration and Restoration of Legitimate Authority. Colorado: Lynne Rienner. ————–. 2001. Preventive Negotiation: Avoiding Conflict Escalation. New York: Carnegie Commission on Preventing Deadly Conflict.

8 Intra-State/Inter-State Conflicts in South Asia The Constructivist Alternative to Realism Shibashis Chatterjee

T

heories are meant to clarify or simplify reality (Alker 1996). Theories of International Relations (IR) should therefore, help practitioners to explain, comprehend and interpret reality. However, in IR, there are fundamental disagreements on what this ‘reality’ constitutes or what methods need to be used for explaining it in theoretical terms. So pervasive has been the nature of such contestation(s) that the purpose of theory-building in the discipline has itself been questioned (Smith 1995; Smith, Booth and Zalewski 1996). Yet, scholars across paradigms/approaches agree that to be sceptical about the kind of theory to be used in IR is not to abandon the case for theory itself. This seems to have resulted in a truce amongst theoreticians across paradigms/approaches regarding the possibility of their respective positions, methodologies and the range of applications respectively. The truce does not indicate convergence; it refers to a simple practical compromise concerning diverse theoretical approaches. One no longer witnesses a passionate rejection of ‘other’ theories and methods as was common to the discipline in the past. The prevailing eclecticism and methodological pluralism, while still an anathema to the votaries of precision, is increasingly viewed as unavoidable by many scholars who have previously considered such divisions as detrimental to the epistemic identity of the field. This chapter deploys two key theoretical paradigms namely realism/neorealism and constructivism to analyse South Asian conflicts arising from their external and internal security dilemmas. The chapter

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rests upon a few basic assumptions. The first concerns the epistemology of IR. It builds on what may be described as epistemic pluralism of the discipline, and therefore refrains from any judgement on the quality of the chosen theories in comparative terms. Such pluralism is often viewed as an easy alternative to sustained debates or critiques of dominant paradigms. My intention here is, however, different. That is because criticizing the theories in abstraction serves little purpose especially for comparative exercises. Wendt and Fearnon have argued rather forcefully that there is little scope for IR scholars to add anything substantive to the philosophy of knowledge debate that would be considered worthwhile by the academically-trained philosophers. In other words, if alternative theories to realism can point to innumerable limitations of the latter, realism can also theoretically advance a rather powerful case against its detractors. Hence, this study consciously refrains from any critical dialogue amongst rival paradigms. Second, the article is aware of the possibility of being criticized for a deliberate case-selection bias. Against this, we argue that such bias is built into the ontology itself and no theoretical approach can claim complete immunity in this regard. Thus, it is common to find realists discussing hard security issues, be it interstate military competition or nuclear rivalry in the subcontinent. For scholars who are more interested in uncovering the tracts of sociological violence, for instance, the investigable evidence very often consists of school texts and sources of oral history or other forms of social communication. Third, this article argues for the theoretical formulations to be tested in specific empirical situations to demonstrate the scope of their explanatory power though it is extremely unlikely that either a particular theory completely fails to explain a case or explains it so exhaustively so as to settle the problem once and for all. Social realities are not necessarily given to neat formulations or a priori conceptual schemes; their innate diversity, instability and contingent character defy such efforts. And yet social reality is not necessarily chaotic or completely inchoate, and it is the task of any theory to discriminate reality, to help observers to into the seamless web of a complex world, to help him/her see the wood for the trees. It is important to clarify the notion of ‘alternative’ as used in this study. The article takes the constructivist theory as an alternative to realism to explain the problématiques of South Asian conflicts. That

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is mainly because in our assessment, no corpus of theory which can legitimately claim to be born out of the empirical or existential reality of our parts of the world exists. This is especially true of International Relations as an academic discipline. Most theoretically conscious work relating to South Asia has, thus, used one theory or the other. Realism has been the most practised theory, but liberalism and different forms of Marxist theories have also been used. More recently, Habermasian critical theory and Derrida or Foucaultinspired post-modernist frames are also becoming visible. It is debatable whether these formulations qualify as alternative theories. These are alternatives to some variant of theories that are also alien to the empirical setting of the subcontinent. This is most definitely not to advance a case for area-specific theories or ethno-centric communitarianism. On the contrary, theories are meant to be general and not bound by a given empirical setting. Hence, it is difficult to believe that there can ever be some alternative theory besides the ones we have already got. And the existing range of theoretical development, in terms of methodological underpinning at least, seems to be well covered, with positivist, quantitative studies at one end, and post-modern relativism on the other. This study adopts constructivism as an alternative theory to realism simply because the former has explanations for a much wider range of conflicts in the subcontinent than the former. Realism is virtually silent on domestic conflicts, particularly ethnic violence. Can there be any meaningful understanding of the dynamics of South Asian conflicts without addressing ethnic discords? Without any insights on identity formation and the relationship between interests and identities, South Asian conflicts cannot be fully accounted for. Understanding foreign policy behaviour of South Asian states requires us to go beyond alliance structures and capability matrices. They invite investigation into the historical formation of modern state structures in the subcontinent, the making of territorial nationalism, and the claims of ethnic communities to redefine their political status. The central assumption of this study is, therefore, to take constructivism as a more appropriate tool for this purpose and establish its usefulness by means of a comparative exercise with structural realism. For students of realism, India’s conflict with Pakistan is an archetypal model of inter-state rivalry, leading to war and endemic

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insecurity between the two states. All other conflicts in South Asia, which tend to spill over national frontiers, are domestic in nature, and are conventionally held to be outside the scope of IR theory (realist). Of various forms of domestic conflicts, the most predominant type seems to be ethnic conflicts or the challenges of fissiparous sub-nationalisms that threaten to alter the territorial boundaries of the existing nation-states with a view to create homeland(s) for themselves. In the following sections, we attempt a selective theoretical audit of these two forms of conflict in South Asia. The second section enumerates the two theoretical positions, viz., realism and constructivism, and attempts to build a set of precise formulations from such enumeration. The third section deploys these formulations to analyse the India–Pakistan conflict. The fourth section seeks to understand and explain ethnic conflicts in South Asia from realist and constructivist standpoints. The final section deals with findings and tries to estimate them for the validity of the concerned theoretical position(s) and seeks to shed light on the possibility of alternative theorization(s) in this context. Realism is essentially about power and statecraft (Morgenthau 1947, 1948; Carr 1947; Waltz 1959, 1979; Gilpin 1981; Grieco 1990; Elman 1996; Frankel 1996; Brooks 1997; Donnelly 2000; Taliaferro 2000/2001). Historically, various forms of realism have come to dominate IR, of which two namely Morgenthau’s classical realism and Waltz’s structural realism became paradigmatic. Morgenthau’s realism was based on a particular reading of the human nature and its extrapolations on the behaviour of states. It took politics as an autonomous sphere of action, rooted in a permanent and unchanging human nature which is essentially egoistic, self-regarding and self-preserving, and accordingly, turned the international arena into anarchy, marked by conflicting state interests. For Morgenthau, the ethics of IR was situational or contextual, a form of public morality or reasons of state, distinct from the agreed-upon standards of private morality. The state had to survive amidst competition, fear and possible destruction. Therefore, the only legitimate interest before the state was self-preservation qua national interest. The state was responsible for the people’s security and therefore state action had to be evaluated in terms of its contribution to or deviance from this basic goal. Such ethics rule out normative or ideological

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predispositions in foreign policy as mere shadows or self-pretence. Realism thus advocates the unwavering pursuit of national interest defined in terms of power, which makes it essentially a doctrine of statecraft raised on raw pragmatism derived from a profound awareness of human fallibilities and imperfections. Anarchy, power, balance of power and the unrestrained autonomy of politics are thus the central elements of the classical realist philosophy. Kenneth Waltz’s structural realism or neorealism develops some of the core ideas and assumptions of classical realism (Waltz 1979: 102–15). He employs the concept of international anarchy and operates with the states as basic units of the international system. The central concern of an anarchical international system is power. It is conceived as a self-help system with states primarily seeking survival and security by guarding against the possibilities of war. Waltz treats states as defensive actors in as much as their primary, though not exclusive, intention is self-preservation. Having ruled out the possibility of any third kind of system—other than the hierarchical and the anarchic—neorealism could confidently espouse the selfperpetuation of the international system, as states can only logically be self-help units within an anarchical system devoid of an authoritative or commanding sovereign regulator. Balance of power is essentially a balance of capabilities and states have to continuously judge the capabilities of other states to maintain the balance. The major task in IR is to understand and provide for security and peace in the shadow of war. Waltz categorically argues that neorealism does not seek to provide a theory of foreign policy, and therefore, this perspective will not account for major variations at state-level interactions which were caused by local or specific factors and thus irreducible to the systems level. In defence, he provides two arguments. First, he emphatically points out that no theory can ever claim to explain ‘every thing’ and neorealism is no exception. Second, the validity of neorealism does not depend on empirical cases; its validity rests on the internal consistency of propositions constituting the theory and its utility depends on its capacity to generate a sophisticated research programme on security at the systems level.1 For Waltz, it is sufficient to establish that, contrary to the claims of the interdependency, functional and pluralist scholars, there is no fundamental change in the logic of

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the system, and the fact that such an alteration is not possible without the contemporary system changing from an anarchical into a hierarchical one. At a normative level, neorealism does not rule out the possibility of an eventual transformation of the anarchical self-help system into a world government based on collective security, no more than its predecessor, classical realism, has conceded the logical or theoretical possibility and normative desirability to substitute a balance of power system based on threats and counterthreats for a new world order or a stateless society with perfect cooperation at all levels. However, the primary endeavour of the neorealist intervention is to precisely deny the possibility of any alteration in the anarchical system, a denial which was not based on the amorality, or inherent wickedness, of a handful of crafty statesman, a la classical realism, but on the structural attributes of the system and the logic of survival of the units (Vasquez 1998). Thus, in its original formulation, structural realism did not deliberate upon the sources of domestic violence, or the ‘inside’ violence causing conflict ‘outside’. Later generation of structural realist scholars have tried to plug this gap. Stephen van Evera and Barry Posen have attempted to accommodate the concept of nationalism within the neorealist paradigm perhaps to rescue the latter from the onslaught of social constructivism and historical sociology which, inter alia targeted the asociological basis of the paradigm’s central building block—the idea of the state (Posen 1993). They have developed a theory of nationalism as a fait accompli, through the canons of methodological individualism that contains no explanation whatsoever of the ‘why’ and ‘how’ of nationalism. The social actors are considered as ‘givens’ and ideational origins as exogenous so as to make nationalism appropriate for the technical requirements of the theory of structural realism. This is also reflected in their treatment of identity groups, which become nothing more than convenient substitutes for conventional ‘states’ as new references of security. Van Evera formulates a series of hypotheses about nationalism which is considered as an empirical fact and defined as a political movement based on the loyalty of the members to their own national or ethnic group, striving for an independent homeland. The groups espousing nationalism are primarily linguistic entities

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having either dormant or manifest aspirations for statehood (Van Evera 1994). This perspective, it may be argued, is typically Gellnerian bereft of the latter’s functional, sociological or modernization underpinnings. In other words, Van Evera ultimately reduces nationalism to capability, engendering the aspiration for statehood (Van Evera 1994: 16). Barry Posen, on the other hand, traces the growth of nationalism to the development of large armies and the critical imperative of states to maintain such armies for sheer survival. Nationalism, therefore, becomes a function of the international system and its systemic pressures, a response to the existence of other states with nationalistic ideas and institutions making the new states capable of establishing or mobilizing large armies. Newer states therefore generate nationalism in response because their failure to adapt to the new nationalistic ethos may otherwise endanger their very existence. Posen is not surprised at the coincidence of nationalism and warfare; nationalism is ‘purveyed by states for the express purpose of improving their military capabilities’ (Posen 1993: 81). Contrary to the predominant view, nationalism is not the result of high military capabilities. Nationalism is conceived as a medium of mobilization that the elites use to generate military capabilities consistent with emotionally-surcharged contexts. Nationalism thus facilitates the creation of large armies, backed by an entire social structure, which could then be mobilized rapidly in times of war. Although realism remains the most powerful paradigm in International Relations, it does not represent an undifferentiated and consistent body of thought. Realism is informed by divergent assumptions, which engender distinctive implications. Commenting on this diversity, Glenn H. Snyder remarked: ‘The field of international relations now has at least two varieties of “structural realism”, probably three kinds of offensive realism, and several types of defensive realism; in addition to “neoclassical”, “contingent”, “specific” and “generalist” realism’ (Snyder 2002: 149–50). All modern realists, however, agree on a set of assumptions. Unlike classical realists, they offer structural explanations although their degree of structural determination varies. Realists also share a broadly conflictual view of international politics and describe states behaviour in competitive terms. Egoistic self-help and individualism are other

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shared assumptions though their specific connotations seem to vary. These similarities, however, does not enlighten us about what different realists have to say about specific state behaviour. Part of the problem of course, inheres in a central ambiguity, if not total silence, in the realist understanding of structure. Structural realists apparently impart two meanings to the term of structure. The first refers to any configuration of the international system. Measured in terms of distribution of capability, system structures can be unipolar, bi-polar or multi-polar. An alternative notion of structure refers to the deep structure of the international system, that is, anarchy. The problem is that realists tend to use these distinctive meanings interchangeably. Although all realists share the fundamental premise of the international system being anarchic in character, they tend to differ considerably on what follows from anarchy. That is because structural realism drops the psychological dimension of its classical counterpart. Anarchy leads to differential implications because realists differ on what kind of actors inhabit such an anarchist realm. Realists like John Mearshmeir and Eric J. Labs take an extremely pessimistic view of these actors (Mearsheimer 2001; Labs 1997). They seem to be truer to the original spirit of classical realism a la Morgenthau albeit without the latter’s explicit psychological formulations. Accordingly, offensive realists portray a fearful fresco of interminable conflict between states that must be exploitative, hateful, cynical and hegemonic in orientation. In Mearsheimer’s conception, states have an insatiable appetite for power, which ironically also becomes a basic precondition for security. A defensive realist like Waltz on the other hand, has a much more relaxed notion of anarchy. In his view, states are egoists, but are not cynical or inherently exploitative, eternally restive or inevitably hegemonic in character. While Waltz, under the spell of scientism and positivism, never conceded anything to subjective, psychological or ideological factors that is not verifiable but unless these auxilliary assumptions are read into his analysis, many of his conclusions do not logically follow and several of his basic propositions do not convincingly hang together. Realists part ways the moment they are forced to make additional assumptions regarding state behaviour. It is, however, difficult to understand the differences within realism more closely. The chief

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obstacle is owing to the nature of divergent assumption held by the key realists. Stephen G. Brooks’ study, for instance, separates two kinds of realism, which he calls neorealism and postclassical realism respectively, and shows how these two approaches differ along three crucial dimensions of world politics—the possibility versus probability of conflict as an underlying motivation of state behaviour, the calculations of short-term and long-term goals by states in their dealings with each other, and the trade-off between military and economic dimensions of power should these two diverge or clash in a given situation (Brooks 1997). Although Brooks’ analysis illuminates several differences within realism, his classification is both problematic and confusing. While he argues that Waltz and Mearsheimer’s reading(s of anarchy)—clubbed together under neorealism—are convergent, a comparison of their work shows that their realism(s) are different both in terms of basic assumptions and secondary implications. Brooks’ reference to the offensive–defensive controversy within realism is characterized as a lesser issue, something that can be subsumed under the possibility/probability distinction. Such differences between offensive/defensive and neorealism/postclassical realism categorization(s), however, become clear by looking at his positioning of Robert Gilpin. Brooks presents Gilpin as a key exponent of postclassical realism though students of structural realism usually recognize Gilpin as an offensive realist. Significantly, Brooks too does not challenge such a characterization of Gilpin. While Brooks’ endeavour to broaden the agenda of realism is, no doubt, useful but it merits going along the conventional reading of the offensive/defensive divide within realism. Thus, offensive realists find the international system to be utterly hostile and unforgiving. The uncertainty regarding the true intentions of adversaries combined with the need to mobilize in anticipation of the possibility of the worst-case scenario drives states to promote aggressive policies, which may often result in war. Defensive realists do not find anarchy to be this forbidding or remorse and consider security to be a less scarce commodity in comparison with their offensive counterparts (Snyder 2002: 151–54). States are thus not inherently aggressive; moderation and self-regulation are possible; and defensive strategies can provide sufficient security to states. Aggression therefore does not follow from the logic of the anarchical structure,

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and offensive strategies are explained more as resulting from gross misperceptions, domestic pathologies or some other ‘non-structural’ factors. From the above survey of realism and neorealism, the following hypotheses may be formulated: 1. The international system being anarchical, states are invariably self-help units seeking survival and security above anything else. 2. The states balance against adversaries, either in response to their capabilities or against threats. 3. The states are guided by national interest in the making of foreign policy, which is like an automatic signal commanding state leaders when and where to move. National interest is defined in terms of power, and states are naturally impelled to follow it by the logic of the anarchical international system. 4. Nationalism is a matter of capability, manifesting in the aspiration for statehood. Nations must be collapsed into states for meaningful capability analysis. Although realism offers a rough and ready guide to state action, it cannot explain why some states want to maximize power and dominate others, while others do not. Realism functions with a rather simple understanding of the relationship between capabilities and interests. It is in this context that the work of constructivists has been most fruitful. Constructivism is a powerful social theory in IR, which draws most of its ideas, concepts and tools from Sociology. Leading IR constructivist exponents include Peter Katzenstein, Friedrich Kratochwil, Nicholas Onuf and Alexander Wendt (Wendt 1999; Kratochwil 1989; Onuf 1989; Katzenstein 1996). Of these, Kratochwil and Katzenstein have worked mostly on norms and their application to security issues. Alexander Wendt, the most profound and celebrated constructivist, has developed a comprehensive theory in IR, which is now widely recognized as perhaps the most promising alternative research agenda in the field. The constructivist argument can be briefly stated as follows. The social world is a matter of human consciousness: it consists of thoughts, beliefs, concepts, ideas, languages, discourses, signs,

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narratives, signals among group of human beings, organized into some form of community. The social world is inter-subjectively constituted; they are made by the people who live in it, for themselves and in a manner intelligible to them. The social world is based on the material entities, which become meaning-bearing forms/ concepts through the ideas and beliefs about these entities. In the domain of IR, for example, security consists of weapons, army, territory and other physical assets. However, it is the ideas or beliefs according to which these assets are constituted, organized and employed that matters ultimately to human consciousness. Thus, the material attributes defining capability are no doubt important to security; but what is unquestionably prior are the thoughts about such capabilities, that is, the subjective understanding people have about the nature, purpose and use of security assets (Jackson and Sorensen 2003: 254–55). If one eliminates the post-modern variety of constructivism as a category of constructivism, three distinctive qualities emerge. First, constructivists like Wendt and Adler have strongly argued in favour of bridging the gap between rationalism and constructivism on the one hand, and realism and constructivism on the other. Second, most constructivists have prepared concrete case-studies based on a constructivist epistemology, and although a general theory of constructivism—one that subsumes the inner variations conclusively—is yet to emerge, the direction of research within the paradigm shows good consistency and focus. Third, constructivism has shown a good capacity to fill in several loopholes and limitations of the dominant rationalist paradigm, particularly with regard to research on constitutive norms. It is because of the modesty, intellectual sincerity and a disciplined eclecticism, that the constructive turn undoubtedly promises the most exciting prospect for the discipline. Following the structuralist theory of Anthony Giddens, Wendt argues that agents and structures are mutually constitutive and both structuralism and individualism are required for a proper understanding of the roles and interconnections between the whole and the parts. People’s imagination, their beliefs about national identity, statehood and sovereignty are important factors to be taken into account (Jackson and Sorensen 2003: 255). The nation-state in the constructivist worldview is, thus, incurred as contingent that constitutes of

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self-validating beliefs about the organization of a group of people into nationhood. The existential reality of a nation is fundamentally an ideological construction, a belief by the people that they collectively compose a national community being a distinctive identity. The notion of inter-subjectivity involves both harmony and discord. If a community is a positive imagination of a perceived sense of collective identity, it is also, simultaneously, a process of ‘otherization’, for our own identity seems to be defined in contrast to others’. Hence identities are both binding and alienating. While identities might overlap to a degree, beyond a critical threshold, they are always incommensurate. Constructivism, thus, investigates how people make and work out their difference on the one hand, and how they manage to create and sustain social, economic, political and other relations despite their differences on the other. Constructivism perforates the concrete world of IR, with its myriad institutions, domains and interconnections, through ideologicallyconstructed force fields. Such ideational framework is, however, necessarily contingent and inter-subjectively constituted. They are distinctively historical. The most crucial constructivist research agenda is to unpack the universe of shared beliefs, norms and intersubjective understanding beneath the empirically visible categories of IR such as capabilities, weapons, trade, commerce, institutions and the like. Constructivists seek to conceptualize conflicts in normative terms. Conflicts are not a bare confrontation of forces or physical entities, but involve disagreement, dispute or lack of communication regarding the meaning of these entities/forces. In other words, conflicts are ideational rather than material; intellectual rather than mechanical; and, arise due to different interpretations of facts. Constructivists strongly contest the hard positivist notion of causality behind conflicts because these are a matter of discordant or antithetical perceptions. Thus, it is the politics of identity rather than the structural determination of anarchy that classifies friends, enemies and neutrals as well as determines the choice of desirable partners. For constructivists, research is essentially a matter of interpretation than explanation. In studying national security, for instance, constructivists explore the impact or influence of norms, culture and identity on security policies and the genesis of conflicts, while

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in the context of nuclear weapons, policies or doctrines, the role of strategic culture, and prohibitory norms or taboo that conditions the use of weapons of mass destruction are emphasized. Likewise, in cases of military intervention, the effects of normative and institutional arrangements that constrain or facilitate such behaviour are examined. The following propositions regarding constructivism are formulated for use in this study. 1. The meaning and explanatory power of the distribution of capabilities is constituted by the distribution of interests in the system. Those interests, in turn, are ideas. Power and interest are therefore culturally constituted. 2. States are unitary sectors bearing anthropomorphic attributes such as identities, interests and intentionality. States are selforganizing entities whose internal attributes endow them with the capacity for institutionalized collective action. The selfinterested or power-seeking character of states, however, is contingent and socially constructed. 3. The states articulate/define interest on the basis of identities and these interests are endogenous and changeable. Identities evolve by two basic social processes—natural and cultural selection.

INDIA–PAKISTAN CONFLICT: REALISM AND CONSTRUCTIVISM If the arithmetic of capabilities motivates state behaviour, it is difficult to understand India’s relations with Pakistan. Not only are there huge disparities in every index of national power between the two states, the two states are bordered by a third state, which is far superior in terms of national power than both. China’s massive presence straddling across the northern horizon of South Asia has not caused an alliance between India and Pakistan against China. Historically, the subcontinent saw a complex balance of power manifesting in the form of a formal alliance—US and Pakistan, with China tacitly supporting them—and a countervailing quasi-alliance—India and the

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erstwhile Soviet Union. Viewed in this light, the India–Pakistan conflict is a classic illustration of the realist model of inter-state conflict. The realists are pessimistic about international affairs. The same pessimism betrays realist reading(s) of India–Pakistan ties (Chellaney 1999; Nanda 2001; Rajagopalan 2005; Nayar and Paul 2004; Dixit 2002, 2003; Ganguly 2001; Ganguly and Hagerty 2005; Majumdar 2004). Constructivists and liberal institutionalists believe that the underlying dynamics of any inter-state relations can be transformed by regimes or a change in the definition of the problem. The realist assumption of IR being a sphere of recurrence of patterns of interaction originating in the anarchical underpinning of the international order, on the other hand, rules out any such possibility. The structural logic of an anarchical system couples both India and Pakistan to seek security and survival against each other. Conflict and contestation will, thus, mark their relations since neither can trust the other’s behaviour in the external domain. Their bilateral ties are not amenable to peace or friendship by institutional devices or other means. So, both are doomed to remain locked in their hostility with their intricate balances, alliances, deterrence, sophisticated weapon systems and other material resources of conflict. Given their pervasive enmity, the only feasible course open would be to manage their relations by instruments of power, that is, either by the threat or use of force. The realists would, therefore, not pay attention to the deeper reasons pertaining to the India–Pakistan conflict. For them, the basis of the conflict is exogenously given and the interests are simply taken to be mutually antagonistic (Chellaney 1999; Rajagopalan 2005). The realists further reinforce their thesis by the actual unfolding of events between the two states. The break-up of three wars lends credence to their basic thesis of incommensurate interests leading to perpetuation of conflict between the two states. If the possession of nuclear weapons has problematized the possibility of the use of threat or actual violence in the course of their bilateral conduct, it does not derogate from the realist logic of balancing capabilities as the precondition of peace between the two neighbours, where peace only means an absence of war. Further, the efficiency of use of force is amply demonstrated by Pakistan’s strategy of successfully unleashing and sustaining a war of attrition against India,

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or pursuing war by other means, such as sponsoring of cross-border terrorism as part of a ‘bleed India’ policy which is an end goal itself (Ganguly and Hagerty 2005). The exponentially growing arms budget of the two states and their nuclear and missile programmes are further evidence of the accuracy of realist thinking in general and the successful demonstration of a set of auxiliary propositions (of realism) in particular. The realists dismiss the counter-evidence of the Simla Agreement, the agreement on each other’s nuclear facilities, the Indus Treaty and several other forms of functional cooperation as insufficient. India and Pakistan cannot sign bilateral accords if these reduce their national power. They would cooperate only when their relative gain positions vis-à-vis each other remain unchanged. India, as the dominant power would not sign an agreement that will bind its future capabilities while Pakistan, the weaker power, will not cooperate on measures that promise long-term gains without short-term benefits. Finally, the realists locate the bilateral conflict in the wider strategic setting. The alliances contribute as well as limit national power of both states though the structural dynamics of the anarchical international order affect the dominant power more. So, India as an aspiring great power is likely to make more enemies in the international system, which impels India to invest heavily into its military budget not only to build a highly sophisticated and effective war machine against Pakistan, but also matches the status India deserves according to her potential. Since defence preparedness is considered the sole effective means to deal with their ties, both India and Pakistan will also have to continue balancing each other militarily. Aggressive intentions, militaristic policies, threats and counter-threats would therefore continue to characterize their relationship, and attempts to fundamentally alter this dynamics are bound to fail, given the absolute certainty of the logic of anarchy and inter-state rivalry for power/positionality. The constructivist reading of the Indo–Pak conflict would be qualitatively different because in their conception, ‘the deep structure of anarchy’, as Wendt points out, is ‘a cultural or ideational rather than material phenomenon’ (Wendt 1999: 43). The logic of anarchy varies and accordingly, there are different cultures of anarchy with their distinctive, concomitant roles. Wendt identifies three macro-level cultures of international politics, namely Hobbesian,

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Lockean and Kantian, based on distinctive images of the relationship between the self and the other. The Hobbesian culture defines the international system in anarchical terms, with the attendant implications of power competition and the ceaseless perpetuation of the images of mutual enmity held by neighbours. The Lockean variety defines order in terms of entitlement rights and creates better prospects of peace among similar states. The Kantian culture of democratic rationalism can be genuinely pacifist if universalized throughout the system. The three cultures fit with three distinctive roles, viz., enemy, rival and friend. Significantly, these cultures are distinctive in terms of how a state visualizes another, and there is a possibility of transformation of these images over time. With reference to India-Pakistan relations, while the constructivists would not deny enmity, they would explain it as a form of cultural interpretation and argue that their respective policy-making elites have engendered a set of norms and beliefs acquired through a long-term process of socialization. It is because of successful sedimentation of such cultural norms that India-Pakistan relations have acquired certain stability though this stability may be characterized as that of fear, hostility and contestation. The constructivists seek to deconstruct the ‘givens’ of the realist case. It may be argued, therefore, that the enmity and hostility between states such as India and Pakistan is neither historical nor predetermined and their interests are not exogenously determined. Their policies are constitutive of each other’s images and beliefs as both are socialized into a maximalist notion of friendship, one that borders on enmity, which rules out sympathetic understanding of each other’s positions, constraints, commitments and problems. Their animosity is, thus, the result of a certain ‘cultural’ interpretation of their origins that makes it difficult to build their ties on the basis of self-reflection and toleration of the other. From the standpoint of a constructivist analysis, the India-Pakistan conflict runs much deeper as it is about their mutually invalidating claims of what constitutes nationhood that put them on contradictory trajectories, which makes their biographies antithetical. This essentially communitarian reading of the nation-state prevented the growth of a genuinely secular civic nationalism that would recognize the territorial differences in a non-essentialized, a-cultural sense.

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In this worldview, India and Pakistan have become enemies by the nature of definition of their mutual threats. If India’s experiment of secular nationalism is successful, it questions the raison d’etre of Pakistan defined in terms of two-nation theory, which stipulated that Hindu and Muslim communities could not co-exist in a single nation. On the other hand, if the two-nation theory is correct, then how does India engage with its Muslim population, which more than 50 years after Partition exceeds that of entire Pakistan. The conflict between Hindu and Muslim communities within the undivided Indian subcontinent was externalized into the confrontation of sovereign nation-states in the post-colonial phase. As this enmity and images of binary confrontation got deeply socialized into the culture of their statecraft, it became impervious to change emanating from both within the respective states in terms of different political parties being in power and to changes taking place elsewhere in the world. The logic of post-colonial nationalism dictated the need to reinforce differences despite manifest similarities in ethnicity, religion, culture, tradition and languages. This prevented the growth of a more sober, alternative model of either Lockean or Kantian kind as discussed earlier. The paradox of a territorialized state identity not reconciled with the idea of a common cultural past is constitutive of the enmity and hostility between India and Pakistan, rather than any mechanical product of an invariant anarchical structure. Thus, no amount of evidence or data on military spending, weapon systems, army modernization programmes ‘explain’ the conflict between the two states. If the conflict was an automatic consequence of asymmetric capabilities being mobilized for competitive aspirations, India should have similar enmities with other states, and Pakistan would have had the blessings of a far more relaxed foreign policy amidst normal juxtapositions of friends and foes. If capabilities alone dictated policy choices, then why is Pakistan far more hostile to India as compared to China? If it is because Pakistan perceives India (and not China) as a threat, then the basis of that threat would have to be ultimately accounted for as the real reason behind their animosity. There is no straightjacket explanation of facts because the facts themselves are inter-subjectively constituted, and hence the conflict is due to differing ‘interpretations’ of facts rather than crude material differences as such.

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Since the constructive mode of analysis rules out a unilinear interpretation of facts, it is important to recognize that there is no singular Indian or Pakistani construction of ‘the other’. The manner in which the Nehruvians, the liberals and the Hindu nationalists have defined Pakistan vastly differ from each other. Similarly, the Pakistani political elites do not entertain a monolithic articulation of ‘the other’, that is, India (Cohen 2005). However, constructivists concede that their bilateral dispute is real in as much as it is perceived to be real and threatening by the dominant political elites, which in turn, have successfully disseminated and popularized such images in the public consciousness resulting in a perpetuation of the cycle of mistrust and closure in their ties.

INTRA-STATE CONFLICTS IN SOUTH ASIA: ETHNICITY AND VIOLENCE Despite the salience of ethnic conflicts in the contemporary world, realists lack a meaningful conceptual apparatus or tools for studying ethnic political violence (Hechter 2000; Horowitcz 1985). The realist reification of the billiard ball model does not permit it to engage with the internal dynamics of the state. The impact of ethnicity is, therefore, calculated only on the aggregate capability of a state. A heterogeneous state fragmented by divisive claims of ethnicity or sub-nationalism will be weak to the extent such conflicts derogate from the aggregate, total national capacity of the state to protect its borders against external threats or project its power beyond borders in pursuit of national interests, at best. States might use overt or covert tactics of aiding and supporting insurgent groups, terrorists or secessionist outfits in the enemy/rival states to weaken it militarily. In a realist analysis, what matters is the arithmetic of loss suffered by a state from internal ethnic mobilization and violence, which must be detracted from its total available capability and perhaps to provide for appropriate compensation by other means. Although Stephen van Evera and Bary Posen have sought to accommodate nation(alism) within the realist logic of state behaviour, their conception of nationalism, as argued earlier, is totally instrumental. It does not explain the source of the nation nor distinguish

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macro identities operating below the nation, though it may be argued that national or ethnic differences are simply or necessarily relevant to the realist thesis, which is about power and conflict between nation-states alone. The problem, however, is more fundamental because realism’s central concern—the security and survival of nation-states as autonomous organization of power—seems to hinge critically on the states’ capacity to retain their territoriality and to guarantee the sanctity of borders. Borders are not only threatened from outside by hostile states but also from pressures within, which may even lead to the break-up of the nation-state. In fact, the empirical data on international conflicts since the end of the Second World War, clearly demonstrates that intra-state conflicts leading to war between states or protracted civil wars (with rates of casualties far higher than conventional inter-state wars) have exceeded the number of inter-state wars as such (Kaldor 1999; Wallensteen and Sollenberg 1999). Most of the Third World’s conflicts were domestic in nature originating from the collapse of institutional mechanisms of governance owing to identity conflicts between ethnic groups or religious communities over acute resource shortages or their skewed distribution patterns. Realism’s inability to create a parsimonious theory that explains problems of security arising out of internal ethnic mobilizations in realist terms, seriously narrows the remit of the theory’s application in several Third World conflicts. This applies to ethnic conflicts in South Asia as well.2 It does not, however, mean that we should reject the phenomenon of ethnic conflicts altogether because several major conflicts in the subcontinent have resulted from ethnically-mobilized political violence which have spilled over territorial borders. This is especially because territorial demarcation of nation-states in this region shows scant regard for the demographic spread and distribution of ethnic groups. The continuous flows of migrants and refugees have exacerbated the problem of ethnic conflicts. What follows is an attempt to explain certain kinds of ethnic conflicts in constructivist terms. Ethno-nationalist movements have challenged the constitutional legitimacy as well as territorial sanctity of borders in every part of South Asia (Phadnis 1990). Such movements have not posed serious internal security threats to states, but have also spilled over into bordering states often resulting into violent inter-state conflicts.

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India and Pakistan have, for instance, fought two wars over Kashmir and the 1971 war came after a bloody civil war resulting from the political repression of Bengali ethno-nationalism in the then East Pakistan by the Punjabi-dominated political elites of West Pakistan who were backed by the Pakistani army. When an exclusivist Drupka ethno-nationalism striving to turn Bhutan into a mono-ethnic polity led to an ethnic conflict in 1990, Nepal inevitably became involved in the conflict (Phadnis 1990; Baral 1996). Nepal’s sympathies clearly lay with the Bhutanese of Nepalese origin especially after 87,000 refugees had taken refuge in its territory by May 1995. These Nepalese migrants have, in turn, caused serious social dislocations and political problems for both Nepal and Bhutan. In India, the National Socialist Council of Nagaland (Issak–Muivah faction)’s demand for ‘greater Nagaland’, Mizo National Front’s demand for ‘greater Mizoram’ and Kuki National Army’s (KNA) call for ‘Kukiland’ are other examples of irredentist ethnic claims, which involved the territories of India, Bangladesh, Myanmar and even China (Das 1998: 109). The Chittangong Hills Tract (CHT) conflict in Bangladesh has adversely affected its ties with India. The Sri Lankan civil war between the Sinhalas and the ethnic Tamils for the past two decades has not only challenged the legitimacy of its political system, but also led to Indian intervention in the garb of a peace keeping unit for providing protection to the Sri Lankan Tamils in the 1980s. On the other hand, ethnic linkages between communities cutting across international borders may also acquire an independent dynamic exacerbating tensions and leading to conflicts between states. The Tamil militant groups in Sri Lanka, for instance, received substantial military, financial and moral support throughout the past two and half decades from the sympathetic Tamil community in India. The Naga tribal groups have received continuous support from the rebellious tribal outfits in Myanmar. The Nepalese community in Nepal and India has constantly bolstered the Nepalese minority in Bhutan. Throughout South Asia, the discourse of territorial nationalism has been used by the states to counter the ‘threat’ of assertive ethnic identities with an aim to create monolithic construction(s) of nationhood. In India, the clash between the assimilationist and pluralistic perspectives of nationalism has taken diverse forms,

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the most predominant conflict pattern being the one between the monolithic construction of a pan–Indian identity on the one hand, and myriad community consciousness emphasizing local distinctiveness of culture, on the other (Phadnis 1990: 36). Pakistan has, for instance, used the ideological appeal of Islam as a supra-identity subsuming the ethnic and linguistic identities of Sindhis, Punjabis, Baluchis and Pathans. Sri Lanka’s social and political history continues to reflect the clash between Sinhala and Tamil nationalism and the state’s commitment to prioritize the former’s claims often at the expense of the other. Bhutan’s project of nationhood has consciously adopted a selective symbol system to uphold the Drukpa identity while Nepal has employed ethnic affiliation to the Nepalese race as the criterion to define its nationhood. Since the creation of Bangladesh from East Pakistan, its new nationalism continues to reflect the uneasy co-existence of two identities—religion and language—since both these markers have been profound in creating and recreating the territoriality of Bangladesh. In all such cases, ethnic groups have resisted the attempted monolithic constructions of nationhood by the state. In India, for example, the Dravidian movement in the past drew inspiration and sustenance from a resurgent Tamil consciousness. This mobilization of Tamils was politicized along ethnic lines, which conceptualized its rationale by invocating the threat of a homogenizing north Indian (Hindi) nationalism (Phadnis 1990: 135–38). Thus, ethnic assertion took the form of redefining the self vis-a-vis the ‘other’ conceptualized in terms of the homogenizing and disciplining tendencies of the dominant cultural ethos of the state. Two other such illustrations include that of the Tamil ethno-nationalism in Sri Lanka and the Mohajir Qaumi Movement (MQM) in the Sindh province of Pakistan (Waseem 1998; Muni 1993; De Silva 1996; Richter 1998). The intensity of the ethnic conflict in Sri Lanka has been very high given the nation’s ethnic composition and demographic trends. The Sinhalese constituted 72 per cent of the total population in 1971, 74 per cent in 1981 and about 75 per cent in 1996. As against this, the corresponding Tamil figures were 11.2 per cent, 12.6 percent and 13.2 per cent respectively (Richter 1998: 96). However, the pattern of demographic distribution of groups may not necessarily have a correlation with the level or intensity of ethnic violence. A number of grossly disproportionate

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demographic strengths of rival ethnic groups have been able to sustain many brutal ethnic conflicts in different parts of the world including South Asia such as the Baluchis, Chakmas and Sikhs. The reverse case of Bengali Muslims who were in majority in pre1971 Pakistan also holds true for the subcontinent. Hence, numerical group strength and the intensity of ethnic violence may not share any correlation. It is important to understand that the ethnic cleavages between Sinhalas and Tamils in Sri Lanka are not an inevitable product of the distinct anthropomorphic cultures of two primordial races. On the contrary, it resulted from a relentless pursuit of Sinhalese nationalism, which had continuously stressed upon Sinhalese culture in near total exclusion of the Tamils as a community in the name of cultural decolonization and national unity. The inability of the Sinhala nationalism to articulate a Sri Lankan identity inclusive of the Tamils and other groups; the political system’s failure to evolve stable mechanisms of power sharing paralyzing its democratic institutions; diverse linkages—material, symbolic and emotional— between the Sri Lankan and Indian Tamils (especially the political parties of Tamil Nadu state in India); the involvement of the Indian Peace Keeping Force (IPKF); and, divisive consequences of the Sri Lankan State’s biased power-sharing policies explain both the protracted character and the intensity of this ethnic conflict. The ethnic conflict in Sri Lanka is, therefore, not a failure of nationalism, but it has resulted from an intense form of ethnic nationalism exercised by the dominant ethnic community giving rise to a centrifugal ethnic movement. The MQM, a highly politicized and intense ethno-nationalist movement has challenged the legitimacy of the Pakistani State though the Mohajirs do not represent a primordial ethnic community with emotional attachment to a certain geographical space like many other ethnic communities in South Asia (Waseem 1998: 73–75). The MQM identity evolved in the process of a dual rejection—the negation of the host society along with the exclusion of migrants who were Punjabis. Mohammad Waseem points out that this identity was born out of a ‘nativization of a migrant community’ (Waseem 1998: 73). The Mohajir consciousness gradually became enmeshed in the process of ethnicization as a result of their relative

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decline in the economy and social status in Pakistan, and particularly as a reaction to the policies of a very demanding territorial nationalism that came to grip Pakistan after the loss of Bangladesh. The territorial nationalism of the Pakistani state sought to indigenize four cultures—Punjabi, Sindhi, Baluchi and Pakhtun—thereby making Pakistan the home of these four nationalities, in clear exclusion of the Mohajirs. Altaf Hussain, the leader and the initiator of the MQM, in fact used the slogan of Mohajir nationality as a reaction to the cultural refrain of four nationalities (Waseem 1998: 79–80). Since then, the growing predominance of the Punjabi elite in politics, army, civil service, business and professional activities has also alienated the Sindhis and Baluchis in particular. This drives home the point that territorial nationalism is no ‘neutral power speak’ in multiethnic societies. Since the state power is exclusively controlled and exercised by the dominant ethnic community and reflects its interests, preferences and demands, the marginalized ethnic groups mobilize their communities by creating ethnic identities out of shared customs, symbols, mythologies, history, geography, and a whole series of inter-subjective identity markers. Such attempts at domestication qua territorial nationalism, thus, result in intense counter-ethnic mobilizations by groups who feel threatened by forced cultural assimilation, linguistic domination and other distributional disadvantages. The cases discussed in the previous sections do not provide sufficient evidence to arrive at the final verdict of the propositions advanced earlier. In fact, validation itself is a matter of interpretation. The history of India-Pakistan relations tends to show that India and Pakistan do behave as self-help units within an anarchical set-up. However, it is difficult to follow the precise implications of this argument. Does self-help rule out any cooperation? If yes, then we cannot explain the evidence of cooperation between the two states especially in the contentious domain of security. Also, it is not easy to always explain the real sources of state behaviour. Many belligerent postures adopted by India (or Pakistan) may not be directed at the other state, although they might generate the unintended consequence of hostility. Finally, the terms of relationship are not exhausted by the realist discourses alone. For instance, while Nehruvians and liberals tend to agree on the anarchy problématique, they differ

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significantly with the realists on several other points. In other words, the assumptions of anarchy seem to be borne out in this case but its implications are clearly not obvious. India and Pakistan also seem to balance each other militarily, albeit not quantitatively. India’s assets and capabilities being disproportionately larger than Pakistan’s, a military balance between them is proportional or relative rather than mathematical. However, it is crucial to first ask why Pakistan needs to balance India at all given the enormous differences of capabilities between them. The alliance structure has been exceedingly critical to the security of the subcontinent. But the dynamic behind the alliances cannot be explained by reference to the classical, realist balance of power considerations. The key to process has always been the Pakistani elites’ perceptions of fears about India’s hegemonic ambitions, which were further reinforced by an antagonistic interpretation of the past. Thus, while Pakistan, a weaker state, finds a perfect foil in China against the common enemy (India), the latter found in the Soviet Union (later Russia) a faithful, reliable counterweight. The American policy in the early 1980s continued to be visibly pro-Pakistan, given the threat to its geo-political interests following from the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. In the post-Cold War era, its policies have become more even-handed between the two South Asian rivals. American motivations are also complex, and it is not clear if Washington sought to balance the subcontinental power equation or was driven by narrower political, strategic and economic objectives. There is, however, little debate that India and Pakistan do feel threatened by each other and manifest that perception in their bilateral foreign policy behaviour. Realists, however, have no plausible explanation of the dynamics of such threat perceptions. The neorealist perspective is particularly flawed in this respect because if a change in the distribution of capabilities within a system constrains or forces actors to adapt, such change must be reflected in their policies. This is not the case with respect to India and Pakistan whose relations show little qualitative variation despite radical changes in the properties of the international system. They were enemies during the era of bipolarity and their rivalry continues to be perpetuated in the post-Cold War context of strategic unipolarity. Their relations seem to be impervious to systemic changes, which have

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not impelled either state to dovetail its policies according to the imperatives of the system-wide structure. The third formulation regarding the pursuit of national interest defined in terms of power is certainly complicated in the given case. Apparently, both India and Pakistan have followed policies that would maximize their relative gains. Only the long prevailing fear of a mutual-recessed deterrence held them back against pursuing zero-sum policies. Being the greater power, India’s policies have been highly restrained despite considerable losses due to continuous Pakistani assistance to cross-border terrorism. Pakistan has also sought to compensate for its relative power disadvantage by astute diplomacy vis-à-vis the United States and China. There has been significant improvement in India-Pakistan ties after the perilous Kargil episode, including fresh breakthroughs on Kashmir. Although the Kashmir dispute is far from being resolved, there is a better appreciation of each other’s positions than ever before, and the process of accommodation has apparently survived one major political change from the BJP (Bhartiya Janata Party)-led NDA (National Democratic Alliance) regime to the Congress-led UPA (United Progressive Alliance) rule in India. The offensive realists find it difficult to explain such cooperative behaviour between the two states. The realist case is that such cooperation might have promoted peace, but it would be sustained only if they did not detract from the relative gains position of each state. Hence, Islamabad would allow peace only if it does not weaken the Pakistani state. Similarly, India would continue to invest in peace till the resultant gains for Pakistan do not put India to a disadvantageous position. Moreover, national interest is not static and changes according to the perceptions of national elites. If the underlying reality does not change, the policies cannot change, argues the realist. But can the underlying reality itself be redefined? Realists fail to demonstrate why the pursuit of realist policies connotes the best possible advancement of national interest where interests are defined as exogenous, immutable and determined by the structure. In reality, interests show considerable autonomy as they are consciously defined, contextually-constituted and reconstituted, and are not independent of larger social forces. While prioritizing national interest is logical, uniformity in defining those interests is hardly tenable.

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Realists provide a good account of empirical trends, but fail to explain them sufficiently. On questions of nationalism or identity, realism is at its weakest footing. Realists have basically no theory to explain domestic conflicts. Their conceptual bifurcation of anarchy (international) and hierarchy (domestic) is based on the original Hobbesian thinking and makes no provision for internal security complexes. The domestic is conceptualized as the sphere of freedom under the complete supervision of a legitimate authority. Realism does not give an account of how that authority is constituted, its condition of legitimacy, and the implications of the diverse contestations of identities that might conspire to fragment the state, thereby posing a threat to state security. The absence of a developed and elegant theory of ethnic or sub-national assertions severely circumscribes the range of explanation of conflicts through realism. Ironically, it is at its sacred site of power and security that realism finds little to contribute by way of explaining what seems to be the most chronic form of conflict in the South Asian theatre. The constructivist propositions seem to be more perceptively validated, although in terms of using evidence to support their arguments, the problem of under-determination remains. This points to constructivism’s imprecision as in most cases its arguments are nuanced and too dense to penetrate. However, the problem of density is more than compensated by the depth of the approach, particularly its capacity to provide domestic explanations of external behaviour of states. Nevertheless, the constructivist analysis seems more persuasive. In plotting state behaviour, for instance, the distribution of capabilities alone explains little. The meaning of that distribution for the concerned actor is a much more significant factor. India’s acquisition of nuclear capability, for instance, is not merely a fixed material asset qualitatively transforming its punitive, retaliatory power. Nuclear weapons are meant to be used against Pakistan in self-defence or the threat of their use is to prevent Pakistan from blackmailing India, say on Kashmir. From the Pakistani perspective, nuclear weapons are needed by India to establish an unconditional domination in the subcontinent. They are required to pulverize Pakistan and force her to abandon the claims to Kashmir for good. Therefore, it is not capability, but the perception of that

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capability which is vital. Nuclear weapons in Indian hands pose a threat to Pakistan. These weapons in the hands of Chinese or Americans do not. Capabilities are, thus, not the sole determining factor. They matter in terms of specific ideational interpretations and gather potency by meaning attached to them. The constructivist formulations regarding the unpacking of the state and the mutability of state interaction lend it sufficient flexibility to account for variations in the given relationship. They also make a powerful case for explaining conflicts at various levels of existential reality. Constructivists explain ethnic conflicts as security problems for states by analysing them as identity conflicts that seem to conform to the given evidence. Communities confront each other only when they have sufficiently defined themselves in terms of exclusive or distinctive identities that both unite and divide at the same time. Difference of identity, however, is not a sufficient condition for violence between communities. But the process of identityformation is a necessary a precondition of conflict. Self-definition can lead to clash if it is denied by the some other more powerful group or self-defined identities may not quarrel over their differences (or even similarities) but clash over resources. Such disputes with regard to the pattern of distribution can become more serious if communities start interpreting their claims in collective terms. Unless one operates with a wholly instrumentalist notion of social violence, one cannot ignore the role of identity in the making of conflict. Constructivists do not argue that all conflicts are identity conflicts, but they advance a strong case to derive conflicts of interests from a more fundamental notion of identity that allows them to penetrate the dynamics of group conflicts far better than their (realist) rivals. Constructivists do not freeze identities as given or settled. Identities are social constructs that are subject to change. Thus, in the ethnicity or nationalism of exclusion, the dominant group—resulting either from numerical superiority or total control of state apparatus—imposes its own values on others, or excludes others from sharing of powers. That is what happened in Sri Lanka (the numerically-dominant Sinhala community trying to impose its identity on the minority ethnic Tamils), Pakistan (the numerically-dominant Bengalis finding their cultural identity and legitimate political representation denied by Punjabis in West Pakistan

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controlling the levers of state power) and in India’s north-eastern states (the legitimacy of the Indian state being seriously questioned by many ethnic communities on both social and political grounds). However, a nationalism of exclusion need not be invariant. Protracted internecine conflicts could achieve reconciliation through learning and alterations in power-sharing modes. Communities might modify their construction of the other and start sharing a life-world. Even the prospects of sharing larger assets in a peaceful stable situation might induce moderation in behaviour if the groups realize that their respective share of the cake can only increase by sharing rather than fighting. To recapitulate, identities are always in a flux and therefore conflicts of identities are neither recurrent nor perennial. Models of interaction can, thus, change and transformations can be qualitative. Theoretically, a Hobbesian world of mistrust, enmity, balance of threat, alliance and deterrence is not only different from, but might also transform into a Kantian universe of trust, friendship, coordinated mutual interest, institutionalized cooperation and reciprocally sustained de-escalation of conflict. Neither may last in perpetuity. If India and Pakistan want peace, they can reverse their modular construction of images and metamorphose their ties. The constructivists, however, qualify such an explanation. Wendt argues that when relations are culturally defined and institutionalized over generations, it becomes very difficult to transform such cultural embeddedness, though this clearly does not rule out the possibility of change. Significantly however, both continuity and change seem to follow from the same theoretical injunction in this mode of argument. But change is conditional as it comes about with transformation in the definition of reality. This may happen when people’s reading of their interests change, circumstances force communities to reconsider their identities, or when people follow new ideas, fresh identities are proposed, reflexivity is rehabilitated and power is reconfigured. Identities, in the case of both states and communities, are variable. Our understanding of ‘who we are’ determines ‘how we live with others’. When states/communities redefine themselves, their objectives may often change. There is a grey zone where identity and interests become too meshy to be disentangled with clarity. Nonetheless, it is more crucial to recognize the possibility of change than live with the frozen imagination of realism.

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This study is a tentative case of alternative frames and their application for understanding conflicts in the South Asian region. At this stage, no concrete indicators are proposed to operationalize these formulations. The propositions are selective, which may be modified upon deeper investigation. The findings are also intersubjective or interpretive and not corroborative as per the canons of high positivism. We do not rule out the possibility of more precise measurements or more accurate testing devices. Much depends on the nature of the case. But ultimately, social reality remains indeterminate. Its constitutive elements are both material and ideas. It partakes both of conflict and cooperation, security and insecurity, war and peace. Realism is attractive given the pervasiveness of inter-state conflicts in South Asia. But its appeal of elegance comes at a price. Its boundaries are its limits. Constructivism opens up the boundaries of realism. Radicals might deny constructivists’ claim to autonomy. Ultra-radicals might find it insufficiently subversive. Still others might accuse it of complicity with realism. Yet, most significantly, constructivism is not utopian. Unlike post-modern deconstructivism, it does not negate the strengths of realism. It recognizes the facts of life including the centrality of power, the ubiquity of nation-states, the reality of the inside/outside dichotomy and the social construction of sovereignty. It sanctions the use of concrete case studies as a way to obtain theoretical validity and does it get lost into dreary methodological debates. Constructivism’s greatest strength lies in its modesty of purpose. That, to conclude, is the strongest case to put constructivism as an alternative theoretical approach to realism for investigating the South Asian realities.

ENDNOTES 1. This claim, however, is suspect. Richard K. Ashley in his deconstructivist critique of neorealism exposed its various argumentative fallacies. Ashley argued that neorealism was an eclectic disaster resulting from the attempted combination of a host of incompatible approaches. He particularly pointed out the limitations that neorealism carried from its utilitarian, positivist and structuralist sources. (Ashley 1984: 239–56). Of these, the most damaging seems to be the last. For Ashley, Waltz has failed in his own task. He did not

206 Shibashis Chatterjee provide a structural definition of the international system that was independent of the joining of its constituent units, or states. This happened because of Waltz’s inability to discriminate between two rival conceptions of structure, notably atomistic and structural. This turns neorealism into nothing more than a barren reification of its predecessor, or classical realism. 2. A much extended version of this section titled Ethnic Conflicts in South Asia: A Constructivist Reading has been published in South Asian Survey, 12(1), January–June 2005, pp. 75–89.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Alker, Hayward. 1996. Rediscoveries and Reformulations. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ashley, Richard K. 1984. ‘The Poverty of Neorealism’, International Organization, 38(2): 225–86. Baral, Lok Raj. 1996. ‘Bhutanese Refugees in Nepal: Insecurity for Whom?’, in S.D. Muni and Lok Raj Baral (eds), Refugees and Regional Security in South Asia, pp. 152–77. New Delhi: Konark. Brooks, Stephen G. 1997. ‘Dueling Realisms (Realism in International Relations)’, International Organization, 51(3): 445–77. Carr, E.H. 1947. The Twenty Years Crisis, 1919–1939. London: Macmillan. Chellaney, Brahma. 1999. ‘The Regional Strategic Triangle’, in Brahma Chellaney (ed.), Securing India’s Future in the New Millennium. Hyderabad: Orient Longman. ————–. 1999. ‘Preface’, in Brahma Chellaney (ed.), Securing India’s Future in the New Millennium. Hyderabad: Orient Longman. Cohen, Stephen Philip. 2003. India Emerging Power, Third Impression. Brookings Institution. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. ————–. 2005. The Idea of Pakistan. Brookings Institution. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Das, Samir K. 1998. ‘National Security and Ethnic Conflicts in India: A View from the North East’, in Arun K. Banerji (ed.), Security Issues in South Asia: Domestic and External Sources of Threats to Security, pp. 102–18. Kolkata: Minerva. De Silva, K.M. 1996. Regional Powers and Small State Security: India and Sri Lanka. Washington, DC: Woodrow Wilson Centre Press. Dixit, J.N. 2002. India-Pakistan in War and Peace. New Delhi: Books Today. ————–. 2003. India’s Foreign Policy: 1947–2003 (Updated Edition). Picus Books: New Delhi. Donnelly, Jack. 2000. Realism and International Relations. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Elman, Colin. 1996. ‘Horses for Courses: Why Not Neorealist Theories of Foreign Policy?’, Security Studies, 6(1): 7–53.

Intra-State/Inter-State Conflicts in South Asia 207 Frankel, Benjamin. 1996. ‘Restating the Realist Case: An Introduction’, Security Studies, 5(3): xiv–xx. Ganguly, Sumit. 2001. Conflict Unending: India-Pakistan Tensions since 1947. New York: Columbia University Press. Ganguly, Sumit and Devin T. Hagerty. 2005. Fearful Symmetry: Indo-Pakistan Crisis in the Shadow of Nuclear Weapons. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Gilpin, Robert. 1981. War and Change in World Politics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Grieco, Joseph. 1990. Cooperation Among Nations. Ithaca, Cornell: Cornell University Press. Hechter, Michael. 2000. Containing Nationalism. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Horowitz, Donald. 1985. Ethnic Groups in Conflict. Berkeley: University of California Press. Jackson, Robert and Georg Sorensen. 2003. Introduction to International Relations: Theories and Approaches (Second Edition). New York: Oxford University Press. Kaldor, Mary. 1999. New and Old Wars: Organized Violence in a Global Era. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Katzenstein, Peter. 1996. The Culture of National Security. New York: Columbia University Press. Kratochwil, Fredrich. 1989. Rules, Norms, and Decisions. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Labs, Eric J. 1997. ‘Beyond Victory: Offensive Realism and the Expansion of War Aims’, Security Studies, 6(4): 1–49. Majumdar, Anindyo J. 2004. Lethal Games: Nuclear Security, Arms Control and Leadership in Indo-Pak Relations. New Delhi: Lancer’s Books. Mearsheimer, John J. 2001. The Tragedy of Great Power Politics. New York: W.W. Norton. Morgenthau, Hans J. 1947. Politics Among Nations: The Struggle for Power and Peace. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. ————–. 1948. Scientific Man Versus Power Politics. Chicago: Chicago University Press. Muni, S.D. 1993. Pangs of Proximity: India and Sri Lanka’s Ethnic Crisis. New Delhi: Sage Publications. Nanda, Ravi. 2001. Kashmir and Indo-Pak Relations. New Delhi: Lancer’s Books. Nayar, Baldev Raj and T.V. Paul. 2004. India in the World Order: Searching for Major-Powers Status, First South Asian Edition. New Delhi: Cambridge University Press (in association with) Foundation Books Pvt. Ltd. Onuf, Nicholas. 1989. World of Our Making. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press. Phadnis, Urmila. 1990. Ethnicity and Nation-building in South Asia. New Delhi: Sage Publications. Posen, Barry. 1993. ‘Nationalism, The Mass Army and Military Power’, International Security, 18(2): 80–124.

208 Shibashis Chatterjee Rajagopalan, Rajesh. 2005. ‘Neo-realist Theory and the India-Pakistan Conflict’, in Kanti Bajpai and Siddharth Mallavarapu (eds), International Relations in India: Theorizing the Region and the Nation, pp. 142–72. Hyderabad: Orient Longman. Richter, Justus. 1998. ‘The Conflict between Sinhalese and Tamils in Sri Lanka: An Antagonistic Ethnic Cleavage’, in Justus Richter and Christian Wagner (eds), Regional Security, Ethnicity and Governance, pp. 93–113. New Delhi: Manohar. Smith, Steve. 1995. ‘The Self-Images of a Discipline: A Genealogy of International Relations Theory’, in Ken Booth and Steve Smith (eds), International Relations Theory Today, pp. 1–37. Cambridge: Polity Press. Smith, Steve, Ken Booth and Marysia Zalewski (eds). 1996. International Theory: Positivism and Beyond. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Snyder, Glenn H. 2002. ‘Mearsheimer’s World-Offensive Realism and the Struggle for Security’, International Security, 27(1): 149–73. Taliaferro, Jeffrey W. 2000/2001. ‘Security Seeking under Anarchy: Defensive Realism Revisited’, International Security, 25(3): 128–61. Van Evera, Stephen. 1994. ‘Hypothesis on Nationalism and War’, International Security, 18(4): 5–39. Vasquez, John A. 1998. The Power of Power Politics: From Classical Realism to Neotraditionalism. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wallensteen, Peter and Margareta Sollenberg. 1999. ‘Armed Conflict 1989–1999’, Journal of Peace Research, 36(5): 533–606. Waltz, Kenneth W. 1959. Man, The State, and War. New York: Columbia University Press. ————–. 1979. Theory of International Politics. Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley. Waseem, Mohammad. 1998. ‘Ethnic Conflict in Pakistan: The Case of the Mohajir Qaumi Movement’, in Justus Richter and Christian Wagner (eds), Regional Security, Ethnicity and Governance, pp. 73–92. New Delhi: Manohar. Wendt, Alexander. 1999. Social Theory of International Politics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Zehfus, Maja. 2002. Constructivism in International Relations: The Politics of Reality. New York: Cambridge University Press.

9 The Agent-Structure Problem and India’s External Security Policy Varun Sahni

T

he subject matter of this chapter—external security of the state— is unabashedly old-fashioned. In one sense, this antediluvian focus is to be regretted. A great deal of conceptual and theoretical effort has been expended in recent years to push international security studies both beyond and within the state. This can be seen in the emergence of new ‘schools’ of security studies, of which Critical Security Studies (Krause and Williams 1997) and the Copenhagen School (Buzan, Waever and de Wilde 1998) are the most prominent. These reconceptualizations of security have added non-state actors and the internal security realm to the traditional statist and militarist concerns of security studies. Through a broad redefinition of ‘security’ in terms of existential threats to any ‘referent object’, scholars of security studies have been able to come up with novel and exciting answers to three basic questions: Security for whom, from what, and at what cost? For instance, from being the obvious and only answer to the first question, the state has moved in many cases to being the answer to the second question; in other words, the state has come to be viewed not only as one of the referent object of security but also as a frequent threat to security. In light of this welcome intellectual trend, the state-centric, externally-focussed nature of this chapter deserves explanation. A study of the external security policy of the Indian state is important because it brings us face-to-face with the agent-structure problem, a fundamental issue in social research that has not been sufficiently studied in the discipline of International Relations (IR).

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The lack of sustained scholarly interest in the agent-structure problem in IR is curious for two reasons. In the first place, this is an intellectual problem that is particularly relevant to the contemporary period of hyper-power/hegemony in world politics. If we are to understand the nature of US power and its pre-eminent position in world politics, or speculate about the rise of new power coalitions to balance and contend with American predominance, we must have a clearer notion of the relationship between policy initiatives and systemic context. Indeed, glimpses of the agent-structure debate can be seen in two recent books on the global role of the US. Kagan (2003) paints a picture of the US endowed with power and imbued with purpose, a hegemonic power that can design policy to shape its external environment independent of systemic constraints. On the other hand, Nye (2002) sees the nature of US power quite differently, and emphasizes the importance of cultural power (‘soft power’) in co-opting other states. The second reason why we need to focus on this problem is because the agent-structure debate lies at the heart of recent theoretical effort in IR. The entire edifice of structural realism, in recent years the predominant theoretical school in IR, is based on the notion that the anarchical nature of international politics, that is, the structure of the international system, forces the constituent units of the system (states) to behave in a security-obsessed and powermaximizing manner (Waltz 1979). Constructivism, one of the main theoretical challenges to structural realism, insists instead that state behaviour is fundamentally conditioned not by systemic constraints but rather by the inter-subjective processes through which states construct their identities and thereby interests (Onuf 1989; Wendt 1992). Thus, the debate between realism and constructivism is about what matters more: structure or process. As David Dessler neatly points out, the agent-structure problem ‘emerges from two uncontentious truths about social life: first, that human agency is the only moving force behind the actions, events, and outcomes of the social world; and second, that human agency can be realized only in concrete historical circumstances that condition the possibilities for action and influence its course’ (1989: 443). This in turn suggests, in the words of Alexander Wendt, ‘that human agents and social structures are, in one way or another, theoretically

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interdependent and mutually implicating entities. Thus, the analysis of action invokes an at least implicit understanding of particular social relationships (or “rules of the game”) in which the action is set—just as the analysis of social structures invokes some understanding of the actors whose relationships make up the structural context’ (1987: 338). What does the agent-structure problem have to do with India’s external security policy? To the lay eye, Indian security policy today appears to be characterized by its shortcomings, no matter what the issue-area. Why is Indian security policy usually unable to achieve what it sets out to do? The basic proposition underlying this chapter is that India’s external security policy has always operated in a context of structural constraints that have restricted its efficacy. To state the proposition differently, the shortcomings of Indian security policy in a multiplicity of issue-areas have less to do with the well-known inadequacies in the policy-making process, and much more to do with the context in which the policy has to operate. Through an analysis of India’s regional security policy and of four issue-areas— nuclear deterrence, military industry, maritime security and border management—that are of crucial importance for India’s external security, the chapter examines the importance of structural constraints on the ability of middle powers such as India to shape their external security environment. The interplay between policy initiatives and structural constraints is analysed in the five sections that follow.

REGIONAL SECURITY An examination of India’s regional security environment requires a prior definition of the concept of regional security. This concept clearly involves more than merely situating national security within the regional context, that is, relating the regional configuration of power to the national security problématiques of the states that constitute it. Rather, the location of security at the regional level does more than create an intermediate level between international security and national security, for the simple reason that ‘security’ has very distinct meanings at the three levels of analysis. By ‘international security’, we conventionally mean the prevention of war, particularly

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Great Power (systemic) war, in the international system. ‘National security’, on the other hand, usually alludes to protection from existential threats, actual or potential. ‘Regional security’, from this perspective, is a hybrid concept containing both meanings of security. In other words, regional security simultaneously implies the absence of war within the region and the protection of the region from extra-regional threats. In that sense, the formation of a cohesive region requires not only the resolution of internal conflicts but also the binding influence of a common external threat. Regional security thus has both an internal and external dimension. The role of a leading state in its region also needs to be conceptualized. Depending on the distribution of capabilities among the regional states, the leading state could be expected to enjoy a position of primacy, dominance or supremacy within its region. Primacy suggests a situation of Primus inter pares (‘first among equals’); dominance suggests the lack of a convincing regional rival; and supremacy, the untrammelled ability to set the regional agenda (Sahni 1999). In the calculus of relative power within the region, both military capability and socio-economic levels have to be factored in. Military capability is zero-sum or negative-sum in nature, and therefore tends to be divisive at the regional level. Faced with the concentration of military power in a region, the weaker states seek to balance their powerful neighbour. Thus, analysing the regional distribution of capabilities solely on the basis of military prowess creates a distorted picture of regional rupture. A high socio-economic level, on the other hand, is attractive. Regional states tend to build links with a wealthy neighbour, which increases regional cohesion. An analysis of India shows that it clearly dominates its region, but only in military terms. India’s population, GDP and military expenditure are three times larger than its neighbours’ are. Its military and paramilitary forces vastly outnumber those of its neighbours, as do the weapon systems and platforms in its arsenal. The only categories of weapons in which India is outgunned are armoured personnel carriers and patrol and coastal vessels—a lack of numbers that is more than compensated by India’s crushing superiority in armoured infantry fighting vehicles, capital ships and submarines. However, India’s depressingly low socio-economic level remains its Achilles’ heel. Despite its enormously larger land area, population and GDP, India’s

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GDP per capita, infant mortality rate, life expectancy figures and female adult illiteracy rate are similar to those of Bangladesh, Pakistan and Nepal, and significantly worse than those of Sri Lanka and Maldives. India’s consistent socio-economic under-performance, both in absolute and relative terms, explains why it does not enjoy regional supremacy: while none of its neighbours—not even Pakistan—can convincingly challenge India’s domination of South Asia, they are nevertheless unwilling to concede regional leadership to India. For the other countries in the region, the only factor in India’s favour is its size. To restate the proposition in more conceptual terms, the extent of regional superiority enjoyed by India as the leading state depends not only on its capabilities relative to the other states in the region, but also upon the attitude of the neighbouring states to this superior regional status. In general terms, the leading state’s regional superiority could either be acknowledged, contested, or irrelevant. India is, by any reckoning, a prisoner of its regional context because its dominance in the region is not accepted and acknowledged by its neighbours. The cardinal India–Pakistan relationship, in particular, remains one of enduring rivalry, enemy imaging and zero-sum calculations. This situation is unlikely to change any time soon. Thus, India’s is clearly a situation of contested dominance in the South Asian region. Any analysis of a ‘better’ route to regional security must necessarily take account of this structural constraint. Indeed, seen in this light, it may make little sense to talk about a ‘better’ route to regional security, since policy breakthroughs clearly are only one element in a complex web of factors, regional and extra-regional, that define the security problématique of a region. In other words, regional structures pose powerful constraints on the policy choices and decisions of the leading regional power. However, to state the above is not to suggest that policy choices do not matter. The constraints imposed by structural factors such as the regional power configuration, the role of extra-regional powers, and the perceptions of neighbouring states may seem overwhelming, but they are not insuperable. Perceptions may constrain policy, but policy can alter perceptions. The role of the leading regional power depends on only upon its military capacity and socio-economic

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levels relative to its neighbours, but also upon patterns of regional enmity and amity, which are the product of history and current policy. Thus, even in the extreme case of India’s regional constraints, it would appear that policy has a positive role to play. India over the years has resorted to different strategies to enhance its regional security, fluctuating from bullying tactics (a blockade of Nepal in the late 1980s) on the one hand, to offering unilateral concessions (resolving a river waters dispute with Bangladesh on extremely generous terms) on the other. The so-called ‘Indira Doctrine’, enunciated during the later years of the Indira Gandhi period, virtually declared South Asia as an Indian sphere of influence into which external powers were not welcome. The Gujral Doctrine of the late 1990s, in sharp contrast, was a strategy aimed at giving unilateral concessions to regional neighbours without insisting on reciprocity, all with the aim of reducing regional tensions and promoting regional cooperation. India’s Pakistan policy has fluctuated between extreme belligerence (the pronouncements of the Indian leadership after the nuclear tests of May 1998) and a genuine desire to bury the hatchet (Prime Minister Vajpayee’s bus journey to Lahore in February 1999). Thus, even in the constrained context of South Asia, there is a role for policy initiatives aimed at breaking the regional deadlock. In policy terms, the Holy Grail is a regional security policy that simultaneously promotes regional peace and security and secures India’s regional dominance. The regional structure continues to place severe constraints upon the construction of a regional security policy that could achieve these desirable ends. Unfortunately for India, like all other regional powers, it must pacify its region in order to transcend it.

NUCLEAR DETERRENCE Several problems lie in the path of building a credible Indian nuclear deterrent. One of the most significant obstacles in the construction of an Indian nuclear deterrent is the illusion that possession of these weapons will somehow make India a great power. There is, to the contrary, considerable evidence that nuclear weapons are no longer

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a ‘currency of power’ in world politics. Nuclear weapons will contribute only marginally to Indian power and will not significantly enhance India’s position in the world system. Thus, any analysis of India’s nuclear deterrent makes sense only from the perspective of its external security. India’s draft nuclear doctrine is based on the principles of no first use, credible minimum deterrence and strict civilian control. In designing the Indian nuclear deterrent, the notions of ‘credible’ and ‘minimum’ could be seen as being mutually contradictory. A minimum nuclear capability suggests a small nuclear force of ballistic missiles and aircraft. Credibility, on the other hand, should be taken to imply a second-strike capability, which would logically take us into the realm of survivability. The central concern here is whether enough of one’s nuclear capability would survive a sneak attack (‘first strike’) by an adversary in order to be usable against that adversary afterwards. An illusion at the heart of the draft nuclear doctrine is the belief that a minimum nuclear capability could be credible in the sense of survivability. Instead, the demands of credibility suggest a nuclear triad, which is a strategic nuclear force that is simultaneously based on land, at sea and in the air and can therefore hardly be described as minimal. In the context of India’s current capabilities, the truly inexplicable aspect of the triad as conceived in the draft nuclear doctrine is the reference to a sea-borne deterrent. Whether the seaborne deterrent will be submarine is far from clear. In any case, this is a capability that India does not as yet have. Thus, for some years to come, and especially vis-à-vis Pakistan, the Indian deterrent is going to be a mix of land-based ballistic missiles and airborne bombs. Doctrine comprises the set of principles that define the conditions under which a certain type and quantum of force would be used. Thus, policy and strategy flow from doctrine and not vice versa. The problem with nuclear doctrine, as opposed to other types of military doctrine, is that its purpose is largely external rather than internal. Since nuclear weapons are political weapons, the purpose of nuclear doctrine is not to specify ground rules regarding the use of force for the benefit of the subordinate commander, but rather to send out unambiguous signals that would deter the potential adversary. Thus, another illusion in India’s draft nuclear doctrine is the belief that it can address the issue of deterring China in any significant sense.

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That China is an important, if not the principal, concern in the design of the Indian nuclear deterrent is undeniable. Nevertheless, India currently lacks the capability to make nuclear weapons a factor in any stand-off with China. That is to say, China will not be deterred by India to any significant degree until the Agni-3 missiles come on line. Doctrine that is not buttressed by capability is next to useless. India’s current doctrine, which is understandably Pakistan-centred, would therefore be inadequate in the future when India does develop a delivery capability vis-à-vis China. Since an essential purpose of nuclear doctrine is external signalling, a ‘one-size-fits-all’ approach, such as the French touts azimuts (all horizons) doctrine, has little more than declaratory utility. One has only to see the total inadequacy of the Soviet-centred NATO nuclear doctrine in the current context to be convinced on this point. Apart from its focus on the various illusions lurking within India’s nascent nuclear deterrent, dangerous instabilities currently exist in the India-Pakistan nuclear equilibrium. As the crisis of May–June 2002 clearly revealed, in the India-Pakistan context, the gap between asymmetric warfare and a nuclear exchange could be uncomfortably small. The reason for this is obvious enough: in order to counter Pakistan’s asymmetric warfare, the temptation for India to initiate a sub-conventional war remains strong. The problem is that subconventional war, which the Indian policy community has labelled as ‘limited war under nuclear conditions’ (not to be confused with ‘limited nuclear war’), has the distinct potential of escalating into a full-fledged conventional war. If that were to happen, Pakistan’s avowed (albeit unwritten) doctrine of first use/early use could lead to nuclear weapon use by Pakistan, followed by a devastating nuclear second strike by India. In doctrinal terms, it would appear that the basic problem is that the need for credibility imposes very different requirements on Pakistani and Indian nuclear doctrine. With their nuclear first use/ early use doctrine to compensate for Indian conventional superiority, Pakistani planners have to grapple with the issue of nuclear thresholds, that is, the point beyond which Pakistan would have no option but to use its nuclear weapons. For India, in sharp contrast, the entire issue of credibility revolves around the question of avoiding nuclear war, that is, waging limited conventional war under nuclear conditions.

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As Pakistani statements from General Musharraf downward would indicate, a number of different thresholds are being signalled by Pakistan—geographic, military, political and even economic. How political or economic instability in Pakistan would translate into nuclear weapon use against India is far from clear. In effect, Pakistan seems to be laying down not one but multiple tripwires for India, some of which are all but invisible from New Delhi. Pakistani nuclear planners seem to be beguiled by the superficial similarities between the Pakistani position in South Asia and the situation that NATO faced in the Central Theatre of the Cold War, viz., the use of nuclear weapons to deter a conventional attack by a more powerful adversary. This explains not just the Pakistani doctrine of nuclear first use but also the moves to integrate Pakistan’s nuclear arsenal into its war-fighting capabilities. Pakistan’s Kashmir policy makes it a revisionist state. Nuclear weapons, which by their very nature invariably buttress the status quo, thus pose a huge dilemma for Pakistan. As the weaker state, nuclear weapons are good news for Pakistan, since they guarantee its security in perpetuity. However, as Pakistan’s failed attempt at nuclear ‘compellence’ in Kargil shows, nuclear weapons also spell finis for Pakistan’s Kashmir policy, which explains why Pakistan is now deliberately shortening its nuclear fuse vis-à-vis India by enunciating a host of nuclear thresholds. In other words, nuclear first use in the case of Pakistan is also likely to involve early use, which is precisely the signal that Pakistan wishes to get out to its adversary. India’s nuclear doctrine, in contrast to Pakistan, is based on a completely different understanding of the role of nuclear weapons. If India ‘went nuclear’ because of the belief that only nuclear weapons can deter nuclear weapons, then it would appear that Indian policymakers now also subscribe to the converse proposition: when both sides have them, nuclear weapons deter only nuclear weapons. The intent, clearly, is to establish a deterrence relationship with Pakistan that leaves some space open for limited conventional war. Communication with the adversary is the sine qua non of limited war inasmuch as it signals that no core interest is at stake in the engagement. Kashmir, however, is a core interest for both states. For this reason, India’s hope that the Kargil conflict would become the Cuban Missile Crisis of South Asia has been stillborn. The crisis of 2002

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would indicate that both India and Pakistan are on a steep learning curve when it comes to building a robust deterrence relationship, which must necessarily be based on the notion of partnership with the adversary to prevent and manage conflict. Indian policy-makers need to understand that as long as Pakistani policy is predicated on nuclear compellence (leveraging its nuclear capability to ‘internationalise’ Kashmir in order to force a settlement upon India), a deterrence relationship in unlikely to emerge between the two states.

MILITARY INDUSTRY A state’s military capability depends not only on the size and quality of the arsenal that it commands, but also on the provenance of its weapons. Thus, apart from asking ‘how many?’ and ‘how good?’, we also need to ask ‘where from?’ There are many good reasons for a state to develop an indigenous military production capability. When a state buys weapons from abroad, it is in effect financing the seller’s military research and development (R&D) programme. There are other liabilities of excessive dependence on imported arms: being forced to purchase obsolescent weapon systems, facing a perennial shortage of spare parts, living under the fear of being blackmailed by the weapon supplier in times of crisis, and the opportunity for kickbacks and corruption in the political elite. Thus, self-reliance in defence matters is the primary reason for making arms. As the Indian defence ministry’s Annual Report 1998–1999 asserts, ‘self-reliance and self-sufficiency are the cornerstone of defence preparedness’ (MoD 1999: 44). The emphasis on self-sufficiency has always been evident in India’s defence production programme. Reflecting this emphasis, the Indian military industry has always been a state monopoly. The Planning Memorandum of 1945 and the Industrial Policy Resolution of 1956 reserved the defence sector for the state. The Department of Defence Production and Supplies (DDP&S)1 in the Ministry of Defence administers 39 Ordnance Factories and eight military industries—known as the Defence Public Sector Undertakings (DPSUs)—involved in aeronautics, shipbuilding, electronics, earthmoving equipment, missiles and super alloys.2 As a study of the Washington DC-based National Defense University recognizes,

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‘India possesses the manpower, expertise and raw materials to support a growing defense industry’ (INSS 1998: 54). From 1983 onwards, India has invested heavily in a number of military programmes, with varying levels of success and rates of progress. Ongoing development programmes include the Light Combat Aircraft (LCA) programme, which aims at producing a Fighter/Ground Attack (FGA) aircraft for in-service use by 2008–10, the Advanced Light Helicopter (ALH) programme, the Advanced Technology Vessel (ATV) programme that is developing a nuclearpropelled submarine, and the Arjun Main Battle Tank (MBT) programme. The Integrated Guided Missile Development Programme (IGMDP) includes the Akash and Trishul surface-to-air missiles (SAM), Prithvi and Agni surface-to-surface missiles (SSM), Surya intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) and Sagarika sealaunched cruise missile. While the missile programmes are proceeding largely on schedule, there have been significant delays in the LCA, ALH and MBT programmes, and little if anything is publicly heard of the ATV programme. One can reasonably expect that these indigenously produced combat aircraft, tanks and submarines—the typical ‘bread and butter’ weapon platforms that distinguish the strong from the weak—will not enter regular service earlier than 2020. In the meantime, India has no option but to buy costly and sophisticated foreign weapon systems in order to maintain a certain pace of military modernization, particularly given its tense external security environment. As data for the recent past clearly indicate, the Indian list of arms acquisitions from abroad remains a long one (IISS 2000). Russia continues to be the premier source for arms imports, supplying India with fighter/ground attack (FGA) aircraft, tanker aircraft, helicopters, surface-to-air missiles (SAM), submarines, frigates, a tanker ship, fast patrol craft, ship-to-ship missiles, sea-launched cruise missiles, main battle tanks, air defence systems and artillery and potentially an aircraft carrier. Other arms suppliers included the UK (FGA and naval fighter aircraft), Germany (submarines), France (FGA aircraft), South Africa (armoured personnel carriers), Israel (forward air control systems, unmanned aerial vehicles [UAV], inshore patrol craft, and artillery), Ukraine (FGA aircraft), Slovakia (armoured recovery vehicles [ARV]) and Poland (trainer aircraft and

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ARV). The avionics on the Indian made MiG-21 aircraft were upgraded using French and Israeli equipment. Israel also took on the upgradation of Soviet-era artillery guns. Thus, India is simultaneously spending on overseas arms purchases to meet current security threats and on domestic arms production to meet future security threats. The Military Balance 1999/2000 describes the pressures that India faces on this front in the following terms: Technical difficulties in the development stages continue to plague India’s wide-ranging programme for major weapon platforms, leading to lengthy delays and cost overruns. This has compelled the government to hedge against the prospect that its sizeable investment in the pursuit of selfsufficiency in armaments will be slow to pay off. Much defence equipment for the armed forces and sub-systems for the defence industry are still imported. (IISS 2000: 153)

During the Kargil conflict against Pakistan in 1999, India once again was forced to make emergency acquisitions of military hardware, particularly high-technology direction-finding equipment. The Kargil Review Committee Report addressed this dilemma head-on: ‘While selfreliance and indigenisation are sound principles, the availability of critical equipment in time of combat is the supreme consideration that must govern acquisition policy.’ (KRCR 2000: 25) To give only one example of India’s arms acquisition dilemma, the unreliability of the indigenously-produced Arjun MBT in user trials, coupled with Pakistan’s purchase of 320 T-80 MBTs from Ukraine, forced India to acquire Russian T-90 MBTs through direct purchase and licensed production. India will therefore now be simultaneously entering into the production of both the Arjun and T-90. If overseas acquisitions continue to supply crucial hardware to meet current security threats, India’s military R&D necessarily has to be geared to contend with future threats. Thus, Indian military industry not only has to keep in touch with current military technology but also has to anticipate future technological advances. This involves making a huge leap into the realm of frontier technologies of the future, at a time when keeping pace with the technological breakthroughs of today is a difficult task in itself. India’s constant search for security today does not permit it the luxury of spending the next 25 years building a technologically competitive and commercially

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viable defence industry. Since technological progress is an evolutionary process with few ‘quantum leaps’ along the way, India may have no option but to accept the delays and deficiencies of its military industry and to continue to muddle through. Thus, India’s military industry has to function within the bounds of an overwhelming structural constraint. And yet India cannot eschew defence production completely, since security autonomy is a policy objective worth striving for. Despite all the changes in the international system since 1989, an indigenous and autonomous military industry remains sine qua non for the external security of a state like India.

MARITIME SECURITY At the very outset, it must be clearly stated that a ‘navalist’ vision animates much of India’s naval planning. The nineteenth century thinking of Alfred Thayer Mahan—epitomized in the Indian context by Jawaharlal Nehru’s slogan ‘To be secure on land you have to be supreme at sea’—would appear to have been internalized by India’s naval institution. The task that India’s naval institution must confront is a daunting one. India is a country of continental proportions, with one of the longest coastlines (7562 kilometres, if the islands are included) in the world. As a result, it also has an enormous exclusive economic zone (EEZ) of over two million square kilometres and important insular territories whose security it must ensure. India already has a three-dimensional, blue water Navy. A three-dimensional navy is one with significant submarine, surface and aerial capability. A blue water naval force, unlike its riverine and coastal cousins, has the capability to operate on the high seas. India’s naval institution today is in fact a force in decline, with more capital ships in the process of being decommissioned than there are hulls being laid and new vessels acquired. Thus, what is at issue is not India’s present naval capability, which if anything needs significant strengthening, but rather the vision that underlies naval expansion plans for the future. India’s naval planners appear to have identified four threat zones or scenarios: (i) India’s coastal waters, its EEZ, and its insular territories (Sharma 1993), (ii) its sea lanes of communication (SLOCs)

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through which its trade is plied, (iii) various ‘Indic’ island-states in the Indian Ocean like the Seychelles and Mauritius (Tahiliani 1989: 28; Tanham 1992: 64), and (iv) great power interventionary activity in the Indian Ocean (Sundarji 1993). The implication is that India should have a naval force that could meet these challenges. Furthermore, in the case of open hostilities with Pakistan, the Indian Navy would attempt to contain Pakistan at sea by blockading its ports and attacking its merchant shipping (Thomas 1990: 13), as indeed it threatened to do during the Kargil conflict. Thus, the suggested naval tasks range from the obvious (defending the EEZ and island territories) to the downright exotic (maintaining the capacity to despatch a task force to Seychelles and to deter great power intervention). In general terms, as George Tanham has pointed out, ‘Indian naval proponents hesitate to discuss specific threats; instead, they emphasize the broad range of India’s maritime interests as adequate justification for a large navy’ (Tanham 1992: 65). An apposite example of this tendency is Admiral Tahiliani’s assertion that ‘unlike the army and the air force, whose size and firepower have to be related to your potential adversaries, the size of the navy is determined by the quantum of maritime assets and interests that you have to safeguard’ (1989: 27). When power projection from Cape Town to Perth (‘converting the Indian Ocean into an Indian lake’) becomes part of the semiofficial naval discourse, it is safe to say that there is at least an element of over-ambitiousness in India’s naval planning. For precisely this reason, it is important to analyse the motivations that animate Indian naval over-ambitiousness. Three motivations can be conjectured, all of which have a certain degree of plausibility and probably co-exist. The first motivation is by far the most understandable. The modern period of India’s history has been shaped by three centuries of European dominance, when it was the most coveted part of the maritime British Empire. As recently as 1971, India was subjected to the gunboat diplomacy of the US Sixth Fleet. Thus, national security requires a naval force that can adequately patrol Indian waters and protect India’s shores. This motivation is often offensively rather than defensively oriented, the buzzwords being ‘power projection’ or ‘force projection’. Aircraft carriers are prime power projectors:

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more visible in profile than air assault formations (such as a parachute brigade), less ambiguous in intent than strategic airlift capability (which also has an internal security function). The second motivation behind India’s naval ambitiousness is less tangible than the first. Sailors naturally tend to regard the sea as a key to their country’s prosperity. Part of this motivation is realistic: as India’s external trade expands, the importance of the sea to the national economy would increase. But there is probably a visionary aspect to this motivation as well, a la Jacques Cousteau, the great explorer of the ocean depths: ‘All life began in the sea, and one day man shall return!’ As Admiral Tahiliani puts it, ‘The potential of the oceans to increase man’s well-being is enormous and nearly as unfathomable today as the oceans are themselves’ (1989: 20). The third motivation is hardly ever mentioned, but it is extremely important. This is the well-known phenomenon of ‘inter-service rivalry’. This rivalry goes back to the immediate post-Independence period, when the post of a single commander-in-chief was abolished. At that time, the Royal Indian Navy made a bid to inherit the Royal Navy’s mantle of being the ‘senior service’, a totally unrealistic aspiration in the Indian context. It was not until the naval raid on Karachi in 1971 that the Navy had its ‘baptism of fire’ and could claim parity with its sister services as a fighting force. Seen in this context, India’s naval plans appear to be also motivated by a desire for institutional expansion. Indian naval commentators constantly refer to the Navy as the ‘Cinderella of the Services’ or the ‘fledging service’ and deride naval sceptics as being ‘sea blind’ (Thiliani 1989: 29). Whatever the motivation, India’s naval planning is based upon an inflated vision of naval threats and capabilities. Indian naval overambitiousness is temporal, force structural and geo-strategic in nature and manifests itself in all three ways simultaneously. From the temporal perspective, Indian naval planners are aiming to do too much too soon. The time has not yet come to start thinking of protecting India’s sea-lanes of communication (SLOCs): India is not yet a trading nation. At about 15 per cent, India’s foreign trade (exports plus imports) as a proportion of its Gross Domestic Product (GDP) is much smaller than Asian countries with open economies like Taiwan and South Korea, whose foreign trade accounts for 88.5 per cent and 60.8 per cent of GDP respectively.3 Moreover,

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India’s foreign trade is only a one-half per cent (0.5 per cent) of total world trade. India’s naval capability is already more than a match for the navies in most of the Indian Ocean littoral. Admittedly, the US currently has a large naval presence in the Arabian Sea, but it would hardly be a credible national objective, particularly at this moment in world history, to build a naval force that could take on both the US Central Command and Pacific Command. India’s naval over-ambitiousness also has a force structural dimension. It is important that India looks de novo at its naval force structure. Aircraft carriers, in particular, need to be demystified. Although they are impressive symbols of global reach and national might, aircraft carriers are ‘expensive in peace and vulnerable in war’ (Modelski and Thompson 1988: 142). Since the Falklands/Malvinas war of 1982, the role of the aircraft carrier has been much debated. It is true that without carrier-based combat aircraft, Britain could not have dispatched a naval force to the South Atlantic. However, Britain won the war by the skin of its teeth: the incapacitation of either one of its carriers would have doomed the entire operation. It can be argued that British submarines played a far more significant role by preventing the Argentine fleet, including the Argentine carrier, from operating at sea. In force structural terms, it is therefore in India’s interests to move away from a ‘sea control’ strategy, for which the aircraft carrier is the preferred platform, to a ‘sea denial’ strategy that is largely submarine-based. The final form that over-ambitious naval planning takes is geostrategic. In any meaningful geo-strategic sense, India is a continental state, and hence a land power.4 This is clearly evident in Indian history: even the Chola dynasty, often cited by India’s navalists as an example of Indian sea power, were primarily a land power.5 India has not faced a threat on its shores, even remotely, since 1971, nor is one likely to emerge in the foreseeable future. India’s main adversaries, Pakistan in the short and medium term, China in the long term, share disputed land borders with it. This is the geo-strategic reality of Indian power. Over the last century and a half, the two continental states that have aspired to become sea powers, Wilhelmine Germany and the Soviet Union, both came to grief in the process of bringing their maritime aspirations to fruition. The example of the Soviet naval

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expansion, in particular, ought to be is a cautionary tale for India’s navalists. Russia has always been a land power; it is, in the geostrategic language of Halford Mackinder, the Eurasian ‘heartland’. Under Admiral Sergei Gorshkov, the Soviet Navy attempted to compete against the US Navy. Its success in doing so was, in retrospect, clearly deceptive. The Soviet Union remained a land power: indeed, the Afghanistan intervention bled it dry. The mothballed vessels from Archangel to Sevastapol to Vladivostok are a grim warning of what happens to a continental state that harbours overly grandiose maritime ambitions. That India has acquired an aircraft carrier named after Sergei Gorshkov suggests the farcical nature of history repeating itself. It is clear that India’s naval plans represent the deep-seated institutional aspirations of the Navy, and are therefore likely to persist well into the future. This obviously has serious implications for India’s external security, since India’s naval planning will confront enormous structural impediments. At the very least, there is a danger of conflating the bright possibilities of tomorrow with the harsh realities of today. Moderation ought to guide India’s naval planning until such time that the country becomes a trading power of the first rank, since only then would India have both the need and the resources to build a truly global naval force. Unfortunately, India’s naval plans may be too ambitious not only for today (the temporal problem) but for tomorrow as well, if the force structural and geo-strategic constraints suggested in this section are considered at all credible.

BORDER MANAGEMENT Even more than other states, border management is an extremely important aspect of India’s external security. The notion of territorial defence—the idea that every last bit of national territory, no matter how remote and unproductive, is as important as the strategic heartland—has been a cornerstone of the Indian conception of security since Independence. The remorseless and inescapable implication of territorial defence is that no violation of the line can ever be permitted. Intelligence and monitoring are therefore the sine qua non of territorial defence vis-à-vis a hostile neighbour. If intelligence and

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monitoring fail, territorial defence extracts its price in blood, as the Kargil hostilities so vividly demonstrated. However, the attitude of callous disregard and indecent inertia that pervades India’s border management policy lies not only in the intelligence and monitoring failures that permitted Pakistan’s adventurism in Kargil. India’s response to Kargil has resulted in the permanent deployment of large numbers of military personnel at altitudes, in weather and on terrain that exacts a brutal human cost. While managing India’s land borders has traditionally been a labour-intensive task, the structural context (circumstances) would suggest that the introduction of technical monitoring applications in the border management role should be seriously contemplated. The cross-border challenges that India faces have gone up exponentially, both quantitatively and qualitatively, since the 1990s. Whether it is unregulated population movements, state-sponsored terrorism, gun running or the smuggling of counterfeit currency, India confronts cross-border threats that are more lethal and better organized that ever before. It is in this changed context that the issue of using a new mix of man and machine to manage the border is examined in the chapter. Pakistan’s armed incursions across the Line of Control (LOC) in Kargil, Batalik and Drass in 1999 took India completely by surprise. (KRCR 2000) Although neither side has ever publicly accepted the LOC as an international border, this is in fact a thoroughly delineated line over which relatively little confusion and misunderstanding exists. Over a period of nearly three decades, a series of understandings were reached between the opposing armies. A cardinal element in cooperative behaviour along the LOC was that both armies pulled back their troops from pickets and posts that were difficult to man and sustain during the winter months. Thus, by sneaking into abandoned Indian positions behind the back of its Indian counterpart, the Pakistan Army has created a ‘Siachen-like situation’ along the entire LOC. Prior to 1999, there was a radical difference between the Siachen glacier region and the rest of Jammu and Kashmir (J&K). While both India and Pakistan claim the entire state of J&K, both countries recognized that they had effective control only over that part of the state that lay on their side of the LOC. The Siachen Glacier region—where no fighting had taken

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place in 1948, 1965 or 1971—was left un-demarcated: no attempt was made to clarify the position of the LOC beyond map grid-point NJ 9842. Thus, Siachen was different from the rest of J&K not because it was claimed by both countries, but rather because—in the absence of a mutually-recognized and accepted delineation north of NJ 9842—both sides wished to exercise effective control over it (Ahmed and Sahni 1998). After the Pakistani incursions in 1999, India has decided that the only way it can prevent future Pakistani incursions is to man the LOC permanently. The likely costs that India will have to pay for its winter deployments on the LOC can be gauged from the human and financial costs of the Siachen deployment. Climatic conditions on the Saltoro ridge and over the Siachen glacier are unbelievably ferocious. Blizzards can be of speeds up to 150 knots (nearly 300 kilometres per hour). The temperature drops routinely to 40 degrees below zero on the centigrade scale. The high altitude severely compounds the bitter climatic conditions. Base Camp for Indian forces is 12,000 feet above sea level, with some forward bases as high as 22,000 feet. Due to the steep gradient, the area is also badly prone to avalanches. These adverse climatic conditions have direct consequences; since the Siachen hostilities began, only 3 per cent of the Indian casualties have been due to hostile firing; the remaining 97 per cent have fallen to the altitude, weather and terrain. The relative lack of combat casualties is because troops are dug in on both sides, artillery-directed fire over mountain peaks is generally inaccurate (the ballistics of artillery shells are severely affected by the thin atmosphere and erratic winds), and infantry assaults are seldom made due to the harsh climate and difficult terrain. What is of singular importance is that Indian forces have been deployed in these brutal conditions since 13 April 1984, thereby making Siachen by far the longest-running armed conflict between two regular armies in the twentieth century, and one that shows no signs of ending well into the twenty-first. Given its experience with Siachen, India therefore faces a cruel dilemma in monitoring the LOC. To prevent future Pakistani intrusions across the LOC, India has no option but to intensively monitor the line. However, the deployment of troops all along the line is not only infeasible but also extremely expensive in human and financial terms. This is a classic dilemma—having to choose between

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two undesirable and sub-optimal alternatives. Is there any manner in which India could monitor the LOC without putting its fighting men on the line? The solution out of the dilemma is obvious: India must replace man with machine (Sahni 2001). Monitoring the LOC by technical means would involve employing various types of devices, such as sensors and associated technologies, and interpreting the data they generate. For example, aerial sensing methods could employ photographic and video cameras (both visual and infrared), sampling instruments and radar on board strategic reconnaissance and electronic intelligence aircraft. The employment of unmanned aerial vehicles (UAV) would enable aerial monitoring of the LOC without putting aircraft and aircrew at risk—a classic replacement of man with machine. Furthermore, UAVs are far less constrained by weather conditions and can loiter over target areas for longer periods. Satellites can also carry visual and infrared photographic cameras and radar. Remote sensing data from commercial satellites, such as the French SPOT, the Russian KRV-1000, the Indian IRS-C and the Canadian RADARSAT, could be purchased by India at relatively low prices. Nevertheless, in the long run, India would have to develop and deploy high-resolution military satellites for monitoring its many disputed borders. Ground sensors would be another category of technical verification measures. This category includes optical, seismic, acoustic, magnetic, infrared, thermal and radar devices. Sensors could be used to monitor the movement of Pakistani troops or equipment along access routes to deployment areas, to detect the provision of aerial supplies to forward positions or to monitor base camps away from the line. India would have to place optical, video, motion and thermal sensors in the camps and posts vacated during the winter months to ensure the continued lack of a human presence in them. Radar, seismic and acoustic sensors would have to be employed to verify Pakistani air activity. Thus, India has the possibility of using a wide array of technical measures with which to monitor the LOC. However, a mixture of altitude, weather and terrain along the line would put any technical application to a rigorous test. The ability of sensors to function in the harsh environment along the LOC can only be conclusively determined through rigorous on-site or environmental testing, and it would probably be necessary to specially design suitable monitoring equipment for the task.

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There is likely to be considerable resistance and scepticism over this proposal to replace man with machine. It must therefore be pointed out that it is human agency and ingenuity that would design, produce, test, deploy, replace and interpret the data from sensing devices. The induction of technical monitoring systems would be an incremental process, involving substantial overlap between man and machine over a considerable transition period. Depending upon terrain and other considerations, the optimal ratio of human versus technical monitoring would differ all along the line. A necessary corollary of technical monitoring would be the creation of a specialized unit of airborne army engineers who would be periodically airlifted to check and replace sensing devices. The financial costs involved in technical monitoring are another factor that must be considered. Not all technical monitoring applications are necessarily financially expensive. Some of the technologies, such as seismic monitoring sensors, are readily available off-the-shelf. Other sensors, whether thermal, acoustic, magnetic, infrared, or optical, are well within the technological capability of Indian military industry to produce and would not need to be imported. However, some technologies that India would have to put in place to monitor the LOC would not come cheaply. While the purchase of commercial satellite imagery is not expensive, in order to receive real-time satellite imagery of high resolution, India would have to invest substantially in a sustained military satellite programme. This, however, is a cost that the country must be willing to pay for territorial defence. Certainly, it is preferable to losing and blighting the lives of young soldiers. That, for a liberal democratic state, should be the least desirable option of all. For too long, India has relied solely on a readily-available pool of unemployed rural youth to man its fighting forces. The structural demands of border management should spur Indian defence and security planners into analysing the viability of a more capital-intensive force structure.

CONCLUSION: THE AGENT-STRUCTURE INTERPLAY The burden of this chapter has been to insist that there are distinct limits to what India’s external security policy can be expected to

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achieve, for the simple reason that it operates in a structural context that severely constrains its efficacy in a wide variety of issue-areas. This assertion, valid though it may be, nevertheless leaves open the question of the relative salience of agency or structure. As formulated above, the agent-structure relationship veers dangerously close to the neorealist position that states behave in essentially similar ways because the structure of the international political system leaves them with little choice in the matter. In the case of some issue-areas, of which military industry is perhaps the most significant, the neorealist formulation probably hits the nail on the head. As long as the Indian state faces external security threats in the ‘here and now’, it will never have the breathing space that is needed to establish an economically-competitive and technologically-advanced military industry. We have, however, also seen that in other issue-areas like regional security policy, there is ample scope for innovative policy (such as the Gujral Doctrine) to overcome structural rigidities by altering the incentive structure for India’s neighbours. By playing a leadership role that emphasizes the generation of consent rather than the exercise of control, the policies of India’s neighbours vis-à-vis India could be transformed. Likewise, in the case of border management, there is a wide open space for policy innovation in the form of technical monitoring that has not been adequately explored by Indian security planners. The construction of a nuclear deterrence relationship with Pakistan (and later China) will also require deft agency. Regional security, border management and nuclear deterrence are all closer to a constructivist rendering that would privilege policy initiatives and downplay the impact of structural constraints. Is India’s external security environment, to appropriate the evocative phrase of Alexander Wendt, what India has chosen ‘to make of it’? In reality, neither the neorealist nor the constructivist version is adequate. Our study of maritime security suggests that agency and structure are mutually influenced in interesting ways. For instance, the temporal impediment in India’s naval planning—doing too much too soon—could well be overcome as India becomes a genuine trading nation; the need for a larger naval force would arise just as India begins to enjoy the benefits of wealth creation through foreign trade. The impediment relating to force structure, on the other hand, would require much greater policy innovation: any move away

The Agent-Structure Problem and India’s External Security Policy 231

from aircraft carriers to submarines would require agency to come to terms with structural constraints. However, over-ambitious naval planning will also encounter a geo-strategic constraint that appears rigid, fundamental and insuperable: if continental states truly cannot become sea powers, as history seems to suggest, no amount of agency could possibly overcome the constraints imposed by structure. We will sum up the agent-structure interplay in the five issueareas as follows. While India’s regional security policy has lacked both a regional vision and the resources to bolster the vision, the constraints on policy have also been considerable. In the area of nuclear deterrence vis-à-vis Pakistan, Indian policy has been quite innovative and has succeeded in creating a stable deterrence relationship with its nuclear adversary. India’s military industry has been a story of frequent delays and recurring deficiencies in an extremely constrained external security environment. In the area of maritime security, we can see a dangerous agent-structure overlap: overambitious naval planning meets potentially insuperable geo-political constraints. Finally, in the area of border management, we encounter a shocking lack of policy initiative in the face of structural imperatives (altitude, weather and terrain) that favour policy innovation (technical monitoring). We have depicted these findings in the diagram below. As Wendt has suggested in his study of the agent-structure problem, the basic ‘problem’ is that if either agency or structure is made ‘ontologically primitive’, it necessarily ‘precludes an explanation of the essential properties’ of the unit (agent or structure) that has been made primitive. This in turn ‘leads to assumptions about primitive units that are without theoretical foundation, a move which in turn undermines the . . . explanation of state action in the international system’ (Wendt 1987: 339–340). Wendt seeks to overcome the problem by adapting the sociological theory of structuration to international relations. The crux of the matter, in Wendt’s words, is the following: ‘Just as social structures are ontologically dependent upon and therefore constituted by the practices and self-understandings of agents, the causal powers and interests of those agents, in their own turn, are constituted and therefore explained by structures’ (Ibid.: 359). In plain English, shorn of the jargon, there is a ‘chicken and egg’ situation here: agency and structure are mutually inseparable

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because each of them simultaneously creates the other—and has done so from the very beginning, since neither can exist independently of the other. Without claiming the meta-theoretical high ground of structuration theory, this chapter suggests that the relative salience of policy initiatives and structural constraints in India’s external security policy alters depending upon the issue-area. Figure 9.1: Issue-areas in India’s external security policy: Relative salience of agency and structure

Acknowledgements A non-theoretical and policy-oriented version of this chapter was published as ‘Why Policy (Sometimes) Falters: Structural Constraints on India’s External Security Policy’, Security and Society 1(1), Winter 2004: 72–91. Permission to republish is gratefully acknowledged.

ENDNOTES 1. The Department of Defence Production, set up in 1962 after the border war with China, and the Department of Defence Supplies, set up in 1965 after the India-Pakistan war of that year, were merged in 1984 to form the DDP&S.

The Agent-Structure Problem and India’s External Security Policy 233 2. The DPSUs are Hindustan Aeronautics Limited (HAL), Bharat Electronics Limited (BEL), Bharat Earth Movers Limited (BEML), Mazagon Dock Limited (MDL), Goa Shipyard Limited (GSL), Garden Reach Shipbuilders and Engineers Limited (GRSE), Bharat Dynamics Limited (BDL) and Mishra Dhatu Nigam Limited (MIDHANI). 3. In 2004–05, India exported merchandise and services worth 3.62 trillion rupees and 2.29 trillion rupees respectively, adding up to 5.92 trillion rupees. The revised estimates of India’s GDP at market prices in 2004-05 were 31.05 trillion rupees (RBI 2005: 5, 246). 4. For a particularly illuminating article on the relationship and difference between landpower and seapower, see Gray 1989. 5. During the reigns of Rajaraja I (985–1018 CE) and Rajendra (1018–1048 CE), the Cholas sent victorious naval expeditions to, and extracted tribute from, the areas that today are the Malay Peninsula and Indo-China. Nevertheless, the end of the Chola dynasty in 1279 CE came from the rising power of the Pandyas and Hoysalas in peninsular India, not from seaward threats.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Ahmed, Samina and Varun Sahni. 1998. ‘Freezing the Fighting: Military Disengagement on the Siachen Glacier’, Cooperative Monitoring Center Occasional Paper No. 1. Albuquerque, NM: Cooperative Monitoring Center, Sandia National Laboratories. Buzan, Barry, Ole Waever and Jaap de Wilde. 1998. Security: A New Framework for Analysis. Boulder: Lynne Rienner. Dessler, David. 1989. ‘What’s at Stake in the Agent-Structure Debate?’, International Organization, 43(3): 441–73. Gray, Colin S. 1989. ‘Seapower and Landpower’, in Colin S. Gray and Roger W. Barnett (eds), Seapower and Strategy. Annapolis: United States Naval Institute. IISS (The International Institute for Strategic Studies). 2000. The Military Balance 1999/2000. London: Oxford University Press. INSS (Institute for National Strategic Studies, National Defense University). 1998. Strategic Assessment 1998: Engaging Power for Peace. Washington, DC: National Defense University. Kagan, Robert. 2003. Of Paradise and Power: America and Europe in the New World Order. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. Krause, Keith and Michael C. Williams (eds). 1997. Critical Security Studies: Concepts and Cases. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. KRCR. 2000. From Surprise to Reckoning: The Kargil Review Committee Report. New Delhi: Sage Publications.

234 Varun Sahni MoD. 1999. Government of India, Ministry of Defence, Annual Report 1998–99. New Delhi. Modelski, George and William R. Thompson. 1988. Seapower in Global Politics, 1494–1993. London: Macmillan. Nye, Joseph S., Jr. 2002. The Paradox of American Power: Why the World’s Only Superpower Can’t Go It Alone. New York: Oxford University Press. Onuf, Nicholas. 1989. World of Our Making: Rules and Rule in Social Theory and International Relations. Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press. RBI. 2005. Handbook of Statistics on the Indian Economy. Mumbai (Bombay): Reserve Bank of India. Sahni, Varun. 1999. ‘Brazil, India and South Africa: Three Pathways to Regional (in)Security’, Working Paper EI-46. Mexico City: CIDE. ————–. 2001. ‘Preventing Another Kargil, Avoiding Another Siachen: Technical Monitoring of The Line of Control in Kashmir’, in Kanti Bajpai, Afsir Karim and Amitabh Mattoo (eds), After Kargil: Challenges for Indian Policy, pp. 147–63. New Delhi: Har-Anand. Sharma, Om Prakash. 1993. ‘Enforcement Jurisdiction in the Exclusive Economic Zone—The Indian Experience’, Ocean Development and International Law, 24: 155–78. Sundarji, (General) K. 1993. The World Power Structure in Transition from a Quasi Unipolar to a Quasi Multipolar State and the Options of a Middle Power in this Milieu. New Delhi: United Service Institution of India. Tahiliani, (Admiral) R.H. 1989. ‘Maritime Strategy for the Nineties’, Indian Defence Review, July: 19–30. Tanham, George K. 1992. Indian Strategic Thought: An Interpretive Essay. Santa Monica: RAND. Thomas, Mathew. 1990. ‘A Grand Strategy for India’, Indian Defence Review, January: 9–24. Waltz, Kenneth N. 1979. Theory of International Politics. Boston: Addison-Wesley. Wendt, Alexander E. 1987. ‘The Agent-Structure Problem in International Relations Theory’, International Organization, 41(3), Summer: 335–70. ————–. 1992. ‘Anarchy is What States Make of it: The Social Construction of Power Politics’, International Organization, 46(2), Spring: 391–425.

10 Can Non-Provocative Defence Work for Pakistan? Ayesha Siddiqa

INTRODUCTION

N

on-provocative defence is an attractive option for countries that do not want to engage in an arms race. This is certainly not popular in South Asia where the militaries and defence establishments continue to think in terms of the traditional security and war-fighting paradigm and reference is continuously made to terms like decisive victory. Such words are used despite the fact that there is no possibility of a decisive war or victory in a nuclear South Asia. However, given the current nature of threat in the region, there is a need for an assessment of non-traditional options. An alternative is required by a country like Pakistan that is constantly faced with the problem of Indian strategic dominance. Does Pakistan have an option other than arms racing with India? Can Islamabad consider other options such as non-provocative defence to secure its territorial integrity without incurring excessive cost or capping its cost of military security? This article would aim at analysing Pakistan’s strategic perception before embarking upon outlining a new security paradigm. Before doing so, the article would also explain the fundamentals and the development of the concept of non-provocative defence in order to explain how this concept may or may not work for Pakistan.

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NON-PROVOCATIVE DEFENCE: THE EVOLUTION OF THE CONCEPT Non-provocative Defence (NPD) or non-offensive defence (NoD), a concept that originated in Europe and gained currency there during the period from 1978–88, represents a conceptual break with the dominant trend in security policy. Opposed to the traditional notions of security that were woven around a decisive battle/victory or a punitive action against the adversary, NoD or NPD aimed at defensive security measures with the intent of lowering the adversary’s probability of success. This would be achieved not only through reformatting military-strategic, operational and tactical plans, but also through a peculiar choice of hardware. In many ways, the NoD approach was aimed at reversing the spiral of instability normally created through arms races in a region, which in this case was the European continent. Thus, an arms race could be seen both as an effect and a cause of a state’s ‘security dilemma’ (Wiseman 2002: 20). As opposed to an ‘offensive’ or the ‘offensive-defence’ doctrine, NoD or NPD espouses a ‘defensive’ approach having a bearing on the entire defence planning of a state. A glance at Table 10.1 would help in comprehending the strategic, operational and tactical elements of the policy as compared to other concepts. Table 10.1 Comparative Strategies Strictly Defensive

Defence of National Territory

Reactive Defence

Rather Defensive Moderately Offensive Rather Offensive Strictly Offensive

Overseas Possessions National Abroad Overseas Economic Interests Extended Defence Perimeter Expansion

Direct Defence Pre-emption Preventive War Aggression

Although in Europe, the debate seems to have gained some popularity during the Cold War, its genesis can be traced back to the early twentieth century, especially the period between 1918–45, when arms races causing strategic instability was an issue debated in the continent. A number of formal agreements such as the Washington naval treaties of 1922 between the US, Britain, Japan, France and Italy imposed limits on naval force projection and attack capabilities primarily in terms of warship size, gun calibre and new naval bases.

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However, the real impetus in the development of the concept was provided by the state of the US-USSR relations during the cold war. The area most affected by an arms competition between the two superpowers was Europe that was naturally concerned about its security and unsure of a number of offensive postures and mechanisms adopted by the US for the defence of Europe. For instance, Europeans were generally concerned about American strategic planning and concepts such as massive retaliation and others. The concern was that when ‘push came to shove’, America might not risk launching a war of annihilation (Freedman 1989: 84–90). Hence, it was logical for European strategic thinkers to consider options that envisaged a strategic partnership of sorts between the East and the West assuming a condition where both sides were sensitive to each other’s basic security needs (Wiseman 2002: 54). The debate was conducted in a number of European states including Britain where an ‘alternative defence commission’ was established in the 1980s. The commission proposed a defensive posture that could be used to inflict heavy costs on an invading force, but with limited capacity to launch an offensive. Interestingly, one could hear similar ideas being explored on the other side of the divide as well. In fact, what one heard from the Soviet Union conceded to the fact that the NoD concept was not something that could only be applied to smaller powers, but could also be used for bigger powers and their allies (Checkel 1997: 86). While the debate on the concept, especially in the West, was caused due to the peculiar strategic concerns and anxiety about the cost of the arms race, there was limited discussion in other regions. The lack of any conceptualization in other regions can be attributed to the dearth of independent strategic thinking in countries, especially states that have been former colonies or are dependent upon major powers for military capacity, training and strategic thought. In addition, vested interests find NoD a less attractive option due to the fact that the concept does not encourage endless arms racing which benefits arms procurement lobbies in a given state. So, the NoD concept was not pursued vigorously in developing countries except for a few cases such as Guatemala where policy-makers were driven by economic concerns to think of non-traditional military options to national security.1

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There are clear benefits of this concept for countries deficient in resources or struggling to divert resources from defence to development. However, NoD is not popular with defence establishments for obvious reasons. Moreover, there is little research on the subject highlighting the amount of cost cutting that will happen as a result of implementing NoD, or explaining how the concept will unfold at the strategic, operational and tactical levels. Such explanation is necessary to engage the military planners and sell the concept to them. There are logical queries military planners have to attend to such as, how does one counter a larger adversary? How does the acquisition and military planning of a neighbour impinge upon the strategic interests of its smaller neighbours? How does one deal with a situation where a neighbour’s military capabilities might not necessarily be geared towards its neighbours, but do create a ‘security dilemma’? More importantly, where does one draw a line between defensive planning without building in any element of counter-offensive? Or can countries secure themselves without a ‘counter-offensive capability? These are some of the hard questions that need to be worked upon by any state aspiring to adopt this strategic formula. From the standpoint of this article, the aim is to evaluate whether Pakistan could work on this proposition in pursuing its India-specific military security objectives. There is a clear disparity between the comparative capabilities of the two states and their respective ambitions. Historically, Pakistan can primarily afford a defensive military strategy with a built-in offensive option that, in turn, depends on a number of exogenous and endogenous factors. The following section will examine Islamabad’s strategic approach.

NON-PROVOCATIVE DEFENCE: DEBATE IN PAKISTAN The NPD or the NoD concept is not part of the strategic discourse in the larger security community in Pakistan. I define this community as comprising members of the military establishment and analysts, thinkers and commentators on security. There are four explanations for this. First, strategic thinking is not a strength in Pakistan or other South Asian states. There is very little strategic dialogue and hardly any conceptualizing on military issues beyond the bureaucratic norms

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of the armed forces. Second, due to the larger strategic community’s affinity with the official circuit, debates have generally followed the official line. The debate in the official circles, in turn, has traditionally favoured an offensive approach without feeling the need to diversify. Third, any concept that does not give primacy to the ‘offensive’ is categorized as being popular with the peace movement, which, in any case, is not very popular in the official circles. Hence, a need was never felt to consider this or any other approach seriously. Finally, with little work going into defence economics, military expenditure and the linkage between security and development, an urgent need was never felt to review the various strategic approaches available to the country. Therefore, I would confess that the concept I am about to discuss would not immediately find an audience in Pakistan. There is a greater possibility of this being rejected as rumblings of a peacenik. However, I must also point out that my views do not draw upon the school of thought categorized as ‘pacifist’. I would much rather classify this as drawing upon the principle of the conservativerationalist approach that essentially uses a holistic view of national strategy and national security. This claim requires some explanation that I would present in the following section.

The Development of Pakistan’s Strategic Perception The development of Pakistan’s strategic perception can be seen as having evolved in layers. There are basically two layers: (a) concerned primarily with the country’s security vis-à-vis the traditional adversary, and (b) looking at methods for expanding Pakistan’s strategic role beyond India. The second layer or segment has an expansionist flavour. However, the two layers are interconnected and flowing out of each other. For instance, Islamabad’s concern with India made it think of expanding into other territories. The vision for expansion was not an independent driver. Referring to the basic pillar of Pakistan’s security, the country’s strategic perception is driven by its deep fear of an external threat. Extremely sensitive to the external threat factor, some strategic thinkers view the India factor as the raison d’être of maintaining armed forces (Cheema 2002). Since its creation in 1947, Pakistan’s security

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perception suffers from an inherent predicament of being Indiacentric. The interminable rivalry between the two South Asian neighbours resulting in three-and-a-half wars is a major worry. It has not only cost Islamabad huge financial resources, but resulted in loss of parts of its territory as well. The Eastern wing was lost during the 1971 war with India. Pakistan is like ‘David’ fighting a battle against the Indian ‘Goliath.’ The ‘expected deliverables’ in terms of a war strategy are not just limited to tangible factors such as safeguarding territory, but also to non-tangible elements like strategic equality. The strategic community does not distinguish between equality and strategic parity. Equality, which is more of a politicalpsychological concept, cannot be achieved without a better militarystrategic balance. A powerful India is considered as harmful for Islamabad. Therefore, military competition in a traditional security paradigm is central to the strategic debate. The conflict with India is the key driver for Pakistan’s nuclear programme. The work on developing a nuclear programme was speeded-up particularly after India’s first peaceful nuclear explosion (PNE) in 1974 that Islamabad considered dangerous for its security. The up-gradation of military capabilities was considered necessary for warding off India’s hegemonic designs and allowing Islamabad the capacity to pursue the Kashmir issue. Nuclear deterrence was central to Islamabad’s calculation during the Kargil operation. However, none of these aforementioned traditional options have rendered Pakistan more secure. The most noticeable feature of the design of Pakistan’s security perception is its rather simplistic linearity that identifies security and national interest mainly as a response to an external threat. Such an orientation, in turn, has led to an approach based on two opposing ends of the spectrum: confrontation punctuated by short spells of rapprochement, and seeking extra-regional partnerships that could provide Islamabad with relative strength to counter its traditional adversary. In other words, the continuously high threat perception has resulted in either producing confrontational linkages or alignments that have been sought by design primarily to offset problems of military inferiority versus its main adversary, India. Hence, Islamabad’s alignments have never been proactive and, in fact, have been limited to seeking military or diplomatic assistance that could

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bolster Pakistan’s position vis-à-vis New Delhi. To repeat the earlier contention, like any post-colonial bureaucratic-administrative state structure, Pakistan defines security in tangible terms: as military capability to thwart any external or territorial threat. More specifically, security is defined as the ability to stave off a military threat from India. The India-centricity of its security perception is the most noticeable feature of Islamabad’s strategic thinking. The two supporting pillars of this peculiar approach are: (a) building national military capability with the objective of challenging India’s military might and providing for an affective defence, and (b) searching for military-oriented alignments that can assist primarily in dealing with New Delhi. Of course, one of the salient features of this thinking is to acquire the capability of ‘offensive’ that could then be used to counter the adversary with greater strength. In fact, the War Directive No. 5, the first one to be produced after the 1971 war, incidentally, during General Zia’s regime focussed squarely on a land battle aiming at the final settlement of the Kashmir issue. The directive, which limited the role of the naval forces and the air force to a great extent, banked completely on the land forces to attain the objective. Offensive capability was the only methodology that appeared feasible to attain the goal. There was no real mention of the internal threat or other concepts of security. The document clearly had the imprint of an Army-led regime. Without getting into a long debate on the evolution of the policy, one would like to highlight the fact that what complicates the IndiaPakistan rivalry (since it is a central part of Pakistan’s strategic perception) is that the rivalry has a physical manifestation as well in the form of the on-going Kashmir dispute and other boundary issues. Control of territory, in fact, is central to the bilateral hostility and competition with India. However, no other issue has gained the kind of significance that Kashmir dispute has, which makes it essential to understand the significance of Kashmir for Pakistan’s policy-makers. First, control of Indian-occupied-Kashmir (IoK) is considered vital for Pakistan due to ideological reasons intertwined with the logic of the Pakistani state’s existence itself. In the words of Pakistan’s President and Army Chief, General Pervez Musharraf: ‘Kashmir runs in our (Pakistanis’) blood.’2 The partition of India was on religiousideological basis. The Muslims of India under the leadership of

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Mohammad Ali Jinnah wanted a separate homeland for themselves, an idea opposed by the Indian Congress. The princely state of Kashmir, it is believed, was forcibly annexed by India in contravention of the agreed-upon principles of partition. Moreover, it is felt that the Indian leadership denied the Kashmiri populace the right for making a choice—the right to decide on their right to join Pakistan through a plebiscite. The popular perception is that given a fair chance, the Kashmiris would have opted to join Pakistan.3 The continued Indian control of Kashmir is viewed as a challenge to Pakistan’s existence as a state and its ideology. The situation is similar to India’s, where any concession on the issue is seen as compromising New Delhi’s position as a secular state. New Delhi’s refusal to hold a plebiscite in its part of the Kashmir is seen as India’s desire to prove the ‘secularity’ of its state, an idea that the Pakistani establishment does not subscribe to at all. Resultantly, Islamabad’s India policy is dominated by a single dimension —the defence policy, that in turn, is focussed on ways to liberate Kashmir from the ‘clutches’ of Indian domination and control. Second, the control of Kashmir is held as strategically important for the country. The water resources and the territorial security of Pakistan can be better ensured through controlling the entire disputed territory. The recent claims by the Indian leadership regarding the possibility of stopping water to Pakistan are statements that tend to heighten the fear regarding India’s intent or capability to make life difficult for Pakistan, a situation that must be avoided at all costs. In fact, since the eight months troop mobilization during 2002, certain segments have been vociferously arguing about New Delhi’s objective of strangling Pakistan by stopping its water supply. Although India remains central to Pakistan’s strategic thinking, it is unfair to ignore the other trend in strategic thinking pertaining to expanding the country’s role and strategic efficacy. Pakistan’s strategic community has often expressed a desire for the country to play a broader role than containing India’s supposed military might. The ‘alternative’ trend, based on the vision of Pakistan as the leader of the Muslim or part of the Third World, appears to have ebbed and flowed in the strategic discourse. Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto, Pakistan’s first popularly-elected Prime Minister during the 1970s was the first person to have vocalized a greater role for his country and for himself

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as its legitimate leader. Bhutto’s aspiration was to become a prominent leader of the Muslim world and the Third World. Given his ambitious character, Bhutto was more inclined towards turning Pakistan into a military power and a symbol of strength in the Muslim world. Such a status would have accorded him a greater relevance in international politics and elevated his position in the world community (Niazi 1991: 85). This was, in fact, the only time in the history of the nuclear programme that any effort was made to provide a relatively superior justification for acquiring a nuclear capability. Incidentally, it was Bhutto’s bid to project Pakistan as a leader of the Islamic world that also earned Pakistan’s nuclear weapons the title of an ‘Islamic’ bomb. Quite clearly, it was never Bhutto’s intent to share the ownership of the capability with any other country or to use it in any other mode but for his own country’s security. Over the years, Islamabad gradually distanced itself from that kind of an approach. In the ensuing years, it was rare to hear the argument regarding the use of the acquisition of a non-conventional capability for rising in the community of nations or in a specific community of nations. The only other time that one heard of an equation between Pakistan’s nuclear and the country’s identity as an Islamic state was in the early 1990s and then in 1998.4 However, on both occasions the idea was to seek the attention of the leadership of rich Persian Gulf and Middle Eastern states that could provide the much-needed financial resources that Islamabad lacked, particularly after the US sanctions of 1998. A larger vision was pursued during the 1980s, and again, after 2001. A bigger ambition became the hallmark of the Islamist elements in the Pakistan Army denoted by General Ziaul Haq. As a carryover of its involvement in the Afghan war, the country’s President and army chief and some segments in Pakistan’s Army seriously considered a map of an Islamic block in which Afghanistan would be aligned with Pakistan. Kabul, hence, was crucial for Islamabad’s strategic survival since it also provided Pakistan with the necessary strategic depth against India, one of the primary threats to an Islamic block. The period post 9/11 was a death-knell to such ambitions. The idea was too closely aligned with the extreme religious elements that advocated ‘strategic defiance’ and building an anti-West, especially an anti-US block, and use military to form a

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strong strategic block. Since the Taliban were also part of this design, it fell apart due to the war against terrorism. This is not to suggest that the ambitions died down altogether. Pakistan as central to an Islamic block or central to the formation of such a block was re-echoed after 2004 as part of President Musharraf ’s enlightened moderation agenda. A segment of enlightened moderation is aimed at the Islamic block with Pakistan’s President aiming at modernizing the Muslim block. Unnoticed by most, Pakistan’s position as a nuclear weapons state, as one of the key partners in the war against terrorism and as a medium military power is central to its ability to influence the Islamic block. It could be argued, however, that the Musharraf regime’s plans have a greater geo-political rather than geo-strategic connotation. Although Islamabad’s strategic community is excited about the country’s greater prominence in international politics and its significance in the world, there are no clear outlines of whether a larger strategic role could be operationalized militarily as well. In the short to medium term, thus, Pakistan’s threat perception will remain focussed on India. There are other issues linked with the design of the strategic perception and defence planning worth attention such as the traditional gap between operational planning and the capabilities required to fulfil military goals. The focus of Islamabad’s asymmetrical military competition with India has been driven by a military strategy that espouses an offensive strategy as the best route available for fulfilling the main political goal of winning the Kashmir issue. The operational plan pertaining to fulfillment of the said objective rests on the shoulders of a land-oriented plan that envisages a limited warfare with the adversary to be fought mainly in the East or the South. The underlying concept is to muster the capacity to strike a decisive or a forceful tactical blow that could force the adversary to concede strategically. This was the spirit behind major weapons acquisition and buildup of a large array of military capabilities. This plan, of course, is punctuated by Islamabad’s sensitivity to its own vulnerability as well. This results in developing capabilities that would allow for the staving off a threat of the adversary’s possible success. However, despite the fact that the military strategy is basically offensive in nature, little work that has gone into developing defensive approaches. Furthermore, the entire concept of defending ‘every inch

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of the land’ has been extremely problematic. This certainly proved ineffective in defending the Eastern wing during the 1971 war with India. Although this tactical approach was criticized later, this was never revised. The dependence on the involvement of the international community to come to the rescue once a conflict was fairly out of control and the urgency to solve a political issue militarily because there was no trust in the adversary to solve the issue, convinced the military leadership to focus on developing offensive options. It must be noted that with this mindset, even technological capabilities that could have been deployed more effectively in a defensive mode were seen as instruments for launching an offensive. One of the clear examples, thus, is the Kargil operation where the Army deployed unconventional methods in combination with non-conventional military technology for its gains. The conventional technology was part of the equation in a defensive mode. The problem, however, was the lack of integrated planning and a joint services culture that did not allow the army to think deeply into the issue of how best to use conventional weapons capability. There are others who view Kargil differently. They are of the view that expanding the operation to invasion of the Kashmir valley was never on the cards. Without getting into the debate of why the operation was launched, it is important to note that the military planners in Rawalpindi followed a linear and vertical approach to conflict escalation and management. The basic assumption was that due to the nuclear factor, India would not be able to escalate tension beyond a certain manageable level. In addition, the pressure from the international community, especially the US, would stave off the threat of a war between the two South Asian neighbours. Thus, the military operation could provide Pakistan Army with an opportunity to create an environment in which India would be ultimately forced to negotiate the Kashmir issue. Such an approach, however, did not take into account the possibility of an opposite reaction by the international community forcing Islamabad rather than New Delhi to withdraw its forces. The military standoff in 2001–02 further highlighted the problem of India’s ability to take a military initiative and reap political benefits. Without going into a detailed analysis, it is important to

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point out that force mobilization by India in response to an attack on the Indian Parliament by militants did not necessarily result in the adversary understanding its own strategic limitations vis-à-vis New Delhi. In fact, Pakistani military planners and policy-makers saw the crisis more in terms of India’s inability to launch a military offensive into Pakistani territory due to nuclear deterrence. The involvement of international actors such as the US was another reason for the eventual de-escalation. Hence, the armed forces were not keen to consider other options in the medium to long-term. Since the last tension escalation, both countries have engaged in peace talks and consistent de-escalation. The pressure from the international community imposed upon the leadership of the two states the importance of maintaining strategic stability in the region and avoiding escalation. The two neighbours have engaged in a composite dialogue over a number of issues that includes the outstanding dispute on Kashmir. Islamabad and New Delhi have also been trying to solve peripheral disputes such as Siachin glacier with the intention of agreeing on a withdrawal of troops, and resolution of the Sir Creek issue that is linked with the larger matter of the absence of a maritime boundary between the two neighbours. The two governments have also engaged in positive steps like starting new bus services and increasing people-to-people dialogue. However, there are sceptics of the peace-dialogue process. Analysts argue that in the absence of the resolution of the core dispute, the ‘trade theory model’ is not likely to work (Yusuf 2005). Such a model envisions peace built on trade or economic relations between warring states. While peace or the near-perfect normalization of relations is a distant reality, it is important to engage in debating the possibilities of: (a) keeping tension at a manageable level, and (b) considering options other than an asymmetrical arms race between India and Pakistan. The following section will elaborate on the application of NoD for Pakistan and its implications for regional peace and stability.

THE NOD OPTION The underlying assumption behind proposing the NoD approach in this case is that Pakistan’s threat perception remains India and the

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military-strategic planning is focussed on ensuring the country’s territorial security. This is due to the fact that a limited objective like defending Pakistan against India puts the former inherently in a ‘defensive’ stance, though, as, mentioned earlier, the military may use offensive options for its operational planning. The ‘alternative’ view of Islamabad’s military power involves different dynamics. In precise terms, a non-India-centric aim requires Pakistan to appropriate military technologies and adopt plans to cater to multiple threats. Despite the fact that Pakistan’s strategic community was, and remains, extremely uncomfortable with the India-Iran friendship, Tehran has not materialized into a full-fledged threat on par with New Delhi. Islamabad also remains uncomfortable with Iran’s disclosure regarding its nuclear proliferation activities, pointing a finger at Pakistan. Iran’s disclosure about the involvement of a key member of Pakistan’s nuclear bureaucracy in supplying gas centrifuges and other nuclear material was taken as a let-down by Tehran. However, the fact remains that Pakistan’s main concern continues to be India. The question is, how does Pakistan counter India other than engaging in an endless asymmetrical arms race? The NoD formula proposed here is a possible option for which changes will have to be made at strategic, operational and tactical levels.

Strategic Level Starting at a military-strategic level, Islamabad could use the nuclear deterrence umbrella to guarantee its security and evaluating its arms procurement and doctrinal options although the available literature on nuclear deterrence during the East/West conflict suggests the significance of maintaining a certain level of conventional military preparedness. A strong conventional defence is meant to create additional but necessary tiers of security before nuclear deterrence is invoked during as conflict. However, the subcontinent’s reality is different from the actors of Cold War. Situated next to each other, nuclear deterrence can work more effectively. This aforementioned change is not easy. It would require readjustment of strategic goals and adapting the military-strategy accordingly. A change, thus, will mean adopting a status quo approach and not pushing for any territorial and political adjustment in the region.

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Operational Level Operationalizing the aforementioned objective will mean switching military plans from offensive to defensive. This, in turn, will have an impact on the entire planning. It is worth noting that the implementation of the aforementioned plan is highly complex and will require systematic revolution in military affairs at the levels of doctrine, weapons selection and organizational structure. Although such changes will become more pronounced at the tactical level, the prerequisite is to conform to a purely defensive strategy or operational planning.

Tactical Level The real impact of change and adopting NoD will be felt at a tactical level. This is due to the fact that adopting NoD will require adjustments in tactical planning. This, in turn, means adopting a defensive mechanism rather than an offensive approach. The force structure will have to be altered depending on variations in military-operational planning. The emphasis is on altering the basic nature of military plans and building on defensive strategies such as adopting the ‘spider-in-its-web’ model used as part of non-offensive defence in the Gulf region. Its distinguishing features are: • The ‘lightness’ of a large portion of its constituent combat units; • A division of the ground force into an area-covering component with low organic mobility and a mechanized/ air-mechanized component—these components standing in a three or four-to-one ratio; • Close integration of the mechanized and area-covering components, with the latter boosting the capability of the former by providing intelligence, logistics and combat support; • The partial substitution of firepower mobility for the mobility of troops and, hence, an increased emphasis on indirectfire artillery systems; • A range limit on most artillery systems of 50 kilometres, and on close air support aircraft of 300 kilometres (combat radius); • A reduced emphasis on intelligent weapons, and a greater emphasis on improving the intelligence-gathering capacity of the

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defence system as a whole—for instance, by the use of sensor fields, reconnaissance drones and network communications; • An emphasis on troop dispersion, battlefield preparations (including protected firing positions, shelters, minefields, and obstacles), and protection of the logistics and communication infrastructures. These design features provide the starting point for developing a model tailored to conditions in the Mideast and North Africa.5 However, this model could be adapted to the South Asian environment as well, especially in terrains where desert-warfare/combat is likely. As mentioned earlier, there are three areas in which the impact of this change will be felt. At the organizational-structural level, it will help the country to move from large voluntary standing armed forces to a voluntary-conscript model. This basically means a conscript military depending on a smaller-sized voluntary force that is well-trained, well-equipped and highly professional. The tactical plan mentioned above, however, will be best operationalized through a conscript military. Local forces that have commitment towards the security of their own area, have an excellent knowhow of the terrain and have a fair amount of training can threaten an invading force through tactics outlined earlier. It has greater potential to isolate a larger invading force. Moreover, the formula is likely to prove more cost-effective than maintaining a large tank force. At the weapons selection level, the NoD approach will mean investing in defensive technologies. While some would argue that it is difficult to distinguish between offensive and defensive capabilities, offensive equipment has greater penetration against the adversary. In addition, the manner in which the hardware is deployed will define the nature of the country’s posture. The traditional NoD literature does not accommodate nuclear deterrence. However, I make an exception to non-conventional defence for practical purposes. Since the South Asian region is ridden with conflict, bitter perceptions and history of arms race, changing the nature of the engagement will require a ‘strategic cushion’ that aims at giving the smaller neighbour a relative sense of security while it alters its military-strategic plans. Islamabad’s sense of insecurity against

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New Delhi is old and real. Adopting NoD will not be easy until and unless Pakistani policy-makers have a certain amount of confidence regarding their ability to secure themselves against a larger neighbour. This is where nuclear deterrence has a role in the larger NoD framework.

CONCLUSION India and Pakistan have engaged in conflict since their independence in 1947. The emphasis of all their military plans is to strengthen military security vis-à-vis the adversary. While this has resulted in an endless asymmetrical arms race, the military competition is counterproductive and needs to be curtailed, especially if Pakistan wants to concentrate on a more comprehensive mechanism of security including social, economic and human security. This is not to suggest that Islamabad abandons its military security, but that it finds other methods of guaranteeing its territorial integrity. The country’s military has long focussed on an offensive approach to fight a defensive war. This goes hand in hand with the fact that Pakistan’s policymakers have always been eager to change the status quo as far as Kashmir is concerned. However, non-offensive defence (NoD) is an approach worth considering. Given the vested interests of a few, or the deep fears of others, there are few takers for this concept in Pakistan or in the rest of the region. Nonetheless, this is an option worth considering, especially if regional states want to review their approach to security. NoD means a drastic change at the three levels of military planning: strategic, operational and tactical. The concept basically allows purely for a defensive approach aiming at the country’s security without the capacity to launch a major military offensive. This is for countries that do not threaten the status quo or desire any drastic geo-strategic change in their neighbourhood. Furthermore, the plan calls for a leaner military organization and procurement of technologies that mainly concentrate on the defensive. The only exception taken in this article relates to nuclear weapons. Considering the South Asian strategic environment, it makes sense to maintain non-conventional defence.

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ENDNOTES 1. http://www.arias.or.cr/documentos/cpr/guat1-i.htm. 2. General Pervez Musharraf. Television Address, 12 January 2002. 3. Interview with Dr. Mahboob-ul-Haq, 1997. According to Dr. Haq, if the majority of the people living in the valley vote for Pakistan, it would favour an accession of that part of Kashmir. Moreover, his assumption was that all Kashmiris living in Pakistan’s Kashmir would vote for remaining with Pakistan. 4. The conceptual paper written by some members of the Army in 1991 mentions the use of nuclear capability to gain leadership of the Islamic world. In 1998, Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif spoke of the relevance of Pakistan’s nuclear arsenal for the Islamic world. His argument, however, mainly aimed at attracting financial resources for Islamic countries. See, Gulf Crisis, 1990. Rawalpindi: Army GHQ Publication. For reference see The Times (London: 14/01/1992). 5. http://www.comw.org/pda/webbtl.htm.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Brauch, Hans Gunter. 1991. The New Europe and Non-Offensive Defense Concepts: Implications for Military Force Planning of United Germany Treaty. Mosbach: AFES Press. Checkel, Jeffery T. 1997. Ideas and International Political Change: Soviet/Russian Behaviour and the End of the Cold War. New Haven: Yale University Press. Cheema, Pervez. 2002. The Armed Forces of Pakistan. Karachi: OUP. Freedman, Lawrence. 1989. The Evolution of Nuclear Strategy. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Gates, David. 1991. Non-Offensive Defense: An Alternative Strategy for NATO? Basingstoke: Plagrave Press. Moller, Bjorn and Hakan Wiberg (eds). 1994. Non-Offensive Defense for the TwentyFirst Century. Boulder: Westview Press. Niazi, Kausar. 1991. Last Days of Premier Bhutto. Lahore: Jung Publications. Wiseman, Geoffery. 2002. Concepts of Non-Provocative Defense: Ideas and Practices in International Security. Basingstoke: Palgrave Press. Yusuf, Moeed. 2005. ‘Analyzing the Peace Process’, The Friday Times, 30 September–06 October, 2005, XVII(32).

11 Exploring the Linkages between Rights and Security in South Asia Neera Chandhoke

INTRODUCTION

I

n recent years, an expanded concept of security has come to occupy the centre-stage of international relations theory. We have, in effect, witnessed a rather dramatic transformation of the field, because international relations theorists who used to be excessively state-centric, have turned their attention to exploring different facets of the human condition. In this essay, I argue that though the widening of the concept of security in IR theory is a welcome development, theorists should be wary of extending the concept too much for concepts which are extended in different directions tend to get flattened out; they simply lose meaning. I also wonder whether it is useful both theoretically and politically to absorb the traditional understanding of rights theories into the concept of security. In the specific context of South Asian societies, human well-being may be better secured through the vocabulary of rights rather than through the concept of security.

THE PHENOMENON OF INSECURITY Given the pervasive nature of intra and inter-state conflict in South Asia, neither states nor individuals in the region can possibly be secure. If security means that ordinary people should feel that their lives and liberties are safe and protected; then South Asian populations clearly

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suffer from massive insecurities in their daily lives. The life of any individual in the state of Jammu and Kashmir in India for instance, is at risk—both within and outside the home—from armed forces as well as militants. Physical-particular insecurity also stalks the life of every human being living in the north of Sri Lanka, Karachi in Pakistan and the Chittagong Hill Tracts in Bangladesh among other regions of the subcontinent. Human beings can lose without a moment’s notice, their life, limbs, property and their dignity just because they happen to have become the target of trigger-happy militants and/or security forces. The insecurity that flows from threats to one’s life and liberty from both quarters is deep, pervasive and killing. It wounds and destroys not only bodies, but also psyches. Massive and intense physical insecurity in the region is compounded by troublesome social and economic insecurity. Social and economic insecurity means that large segments of the population do not know where their next meal will come from, where they will sleep at night, or what they will have to do to earn their daily bread. It means that children in the region are malnourished, that adults, particularly women are non-literate, that people suffer from all kinds of disease and ill being, and that thousands of people are homeless or shelterless. Take a look at the various Human Development Reports of the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP); except for Sri Lanka, other countries rank abysmally low on the index in terms of human security. So many children die before they turn five years of age often from common causes such as diarrhoea— nearly 40 per cent of newly-born infants in the region except in Sri Lanka have a short life span—so many women die in childbirth because they are malnourished, and so many adults suffer all kinds of indignities because they are not possessed of basic skills as they are non-literate. The only exception to massive illiteracy in the region is again is Sri Lanka, where 70 per cent of the adults are literate. Other indices in the human development reports make it painfully obvious that the South Asian states have failed to deliver basic goods to their people. For instance, though the 2004 International Labour Organisation ( ILO ) report on ‘Economic Security for a Better World’ compliments India for maintaining high growth in the past two decades, it has also commented adversely on India’s record of social security for the poor. India is ranked 74th out of 90 countries on the

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economic security index constructed by the ILO on the basis of seven indicators: income, work, representation, job, employment protection, labour market and skill reproduction. On the provision of income security, India ranks 94th out of 96 countries, that is only above Congo and Sierra Leone, both of which are, recollect, mired in civil war. The report further concludes that anti-poverty programmes have failed to reach the poor, that the poor are often not aware of the benefits they are eligible for, and that they are less likely to receive the benefits than the non-poor. It is not difficult to believe that the deep prevalence of deprivation, ill health, and illiteracy leads to both overt and covert political discontent in the form of struggles for basic civil liberties, shelter, food and income. Yet arguably political struggles over socio-economic deprivation are negotiable and manageable provided respective governments show some responsiveness to the needs of their people, and distribute material resources. Redistribution of resources, it is manifest, ensures security for ordinary human beings who need basic things like shelter, food, income, health, clean drinking water and a sound environment to live a life that is truly human. However, in South Asia, physical, political, social and economic insecurities are exacerbated simply because they supervene on to another form of insecurity. This particular form of insecurity originates from belonging to a minority ethnic group, which possesses a distinct culture, language or religion, which is not that of the majority.1 The enormity of the problem can be gauged from the findings of a research project titled ‘Minorities at Risk’ by Ted Gurr at the University of Maryland, US. The project found that 222 minorities in the world suffer from discrimination and oppression. Seventeen minority groups or 7 per cent are located in the four largest countries of South Asia (Gurr 1993). Furthermore, the findings indicated that 50 of the 233 identified minorities were involved in serious ethno-political conflicts in the years 1993–94. Seven out of these 50 cases are in the region of South Asia (Gurr 1993: 94). In the main, the problem of majoritarianism and minorityism has erupted because political elites in Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh and India have tried to weld different and discrete cultural groups into a nation-state. Inspired by the historical experiences of Italy and France, leaders came to believe that the state can be effective and

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legitimate only when a strong undergrid of nation-ness supports it. The formulation proved so attractive that the hyphen, which connects the conceptual worlds of the nation and the state (the nationstate) came to rule politics across the region. And this has proved disastrous for plural societies because states have tried to create a strong nation through the imposition of one language for instance. This has had predictable consequences, for groups that speak other languages, and that hold fast to other historical and cultural practices, have been habitually regarded with suspicion and treated with hostility even as calls for assimilation negate the legitimacy of minority identities. By the last two decades of the twentieth century, theorists were acknowledging with some regret that the nation-state might prove one of history’s most serious mistakes for attempts to forge strong and unified nations in plural societies have rebounded sharply, raising in the process some grim questions about the entire project. The failure of this project was first evident when Bangladesh separated from Pakistan in 1971 on the question of language. Linguistic identities had proved as divisive a factor as religious identities in the subcontinent. Other historical failures followed in rapid succession. Pakistan has been rocked by discontent even as the Mohajirs, the Baluchis and the Sindhis have revolted against the domination of the Punjabi-speaking elite. Sri Lanka has degenerated into civil war over the issue of the Tamil language and the politics of ‘Sinhala only’. In India the attempts to make Hindi the national language prompted not only serious disturbances in South India, but also threats of secession in Tamil Nadu. It is evident that the project of building a strong nation-state was peculiarly unsuited for South Asia’s complex societies, which are multi-cultural, multi-lingual and multi-religious. The inhabitants of India, for instance, speak languages or dialects that belong to five linguistic families: Indo-Aryan, Dravidian, Austro-Asiatic, TibetoBurman and Andamanese.2 Pakistan is composed of Punjabi-speaking people (68 per cent), Urdu speaking (7.6 per cent), Sindhi speaking (13 per cent) and those who speak Pushto (8.5 per cent). The Sinhala language dominates the Sri Lankan polity and the Tamils form a minority group. Bangladesh is overwhelmingly unilingual and uni-religious but the Chakma people living in the Chittagong Hill Tracts are non-Muslims.3 Nepal is inhabited by the non-Tarai

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Hindus, Newars, Tharu, Kirati, Gurung, Tamang, Magar, Limbus and Sherpas among others (Phadnis 1984: 25–36). Since every political community in the region consists of several cultural communities, an important question was: who would embody the idea of the nation-state? The answer was obvious. The majorities began to see the nation and thus the state peculiarly as their own monopoly. The fate of the minorities was, in effect, sealed by the adoption of the nation-state project for inevitably, the majority religious, linguistic, or ethnic group believes that it has a natural right to stamp the national space with its own identity. Majorities are, therefore, not only impatient with the languages and the practices of the minority groups; they actively seek to devalue the latter. Second, even as majority groups deny the legitimacy of minority identities, represent them either as subversive or as harmful to something that is typed as ‘national’, and insist that such groups assimilate into the culture and the language of the national/majority, minorities naturally resist this brutal flattening out of their identities. Therefore, when majority groups contend that the Tamilians in Sri Lanka or the Sindhis in Pakistan abdicate their specific languages, we see the makings of a politically-explosive situation. In turn, members of the minority groups are targeted and discriminated against. The situation becomes even more unbearable when it bears the imprimatur of the state. It is generally expected that the state will provide shelter and protection to all its citizens. But when the state itself discriminates against groups just because these groups belong to an ethnic minority, and when minorities give up hope that they can expect either justice or good behaviour from the state, members of minority groups have little option but to take up arms. The ‘ethnic explosion’ and armed struggle breeds expected consequences: the state tends to adopt even more coercive measures and legitimizes the imposition of these measures in and through the language of ‘terrorism’. The employment of coercion not only fuels more political discontent, it sidelines the idea that the foremost task of the state is to provide social and other kinds of security for the people. The discourse also sidesteps neatly any inquiry into why political protest has taken the form of violence. Little thought is devoted to asking why movements that originally arose in the context of (a) regional autonomy, (b) quest for human dignity,

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(c) revolt against deprivation material or cultural, (d) whole scale violation of civil rights, or (e) discrimination against ethnic minorities have acquired a violent character. The discourse of security manages to institutionalize a climate of intolerance and often bigotry in countries like India, Pakistan, and Sri Lanka. As a result, struggles in civil society become more bitter and confrontational, and groups that may have framed their demands within the parameters of a rulebound politics are transformed into groups that engage in politics without rules or violence. The vicious circle of retaliation and counter-retaliation tends to spiral out of control, leaving the ordinary people caught between armed militants on the one side and a coercive state apparatus on the other. This vicious cycle also breeds serious consequences for the capacity of the state to make its people secure. Even as repressive measures become the index of predominantly insecure polities, we witness the onset of a peculiar paradox: governments that are supposed to provide security, themselves become real or potential threats to the security of ordinary human beings, through codes of censorship, implementation of order without laws, and other such authoritarian measures. Second, the state obsessed with the discourse of security, retracts from its basic commitment to the welfare of its people. The ability of the state to engage in redistributive justice is, in effect, paralyzed. This is evident from the human development index for the period of 1990–95. We find that 57 countries that had experienced violence and conflict were ranked low on the index; 14 were ranked high; and, 34 were ranked medium. The causal link between material deprivation, conflict and further deprivation simply cannot be ignored (Smith 1997: 48). Moreover, ethnic groups, which respond to discrimination by the use of violence, make the redress of such deprivation impossible. In South Asia, matters are further complicated by the fact that struggles in one country spill over into other countries because of two basic features which mark out the region: geographical proximity and shared ethnic bonds. To recapitulate the argument in this section: states seeking to build strong nations as the foundation of their own legitimacy and capabilities, have been notoriously suspicious of minority groups which possess a language or a culture which is different to the majority.

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The project of nation building has inescapably given rise to the phenomenon of majoritarianism and minorityism because majority communities have sought to monopolize state power by presenting themselves as representatives of the real nation, and by this reason laying claim to state power. Minorities are either asked to assimilate into the majority culture or discriminated against. In some situations, they have been physically attacked and subjected to genocide. That minorities suffer from deep and pervasive insecurity because of all this is not difficult to fathom. And that a majority of people in the region of South Asia suffer from social and economic deprivation is more than evident. Even a cursory glance at the Human Development Reports provides evidence for this. Countries of South Asia are therefore marked by two kinds of insecurity: the kind of insecurity that arises from material deprivation and the kind of insecurity that arises from discrimination on the basis of ethnic identity. It is when these two insecurities supervene on each other that we have the makings of a politically-charged situation marked by political struggles for basic needs as well as ethnic war. And this is a matter for some concern for all these factors go into the making of profound ill being.

THE CONCEPT OF HUMAN SECURITY In the past two decades, the state-centric character of international relations theory has gradually transited from a narrow and militaristic notion of state security towards a richer and holistic understanding of security.4 Theorists now posit a link between security at the three levels—the international, national and sub-national. The expanded focus on security is summed up in the concept of human well-being or human security. In sum, the concept of security has shifted from being a property of inter-state relations, to being a property of the relationship between states and the citizens. In fact, the agenda of security has widened so dramatically that on 10 June 2000, the United Nations Security Council met to discuss the challenge of HIV/AIDS in Africa. This was an interesting development because traditionally the UN Security Council has been mainly concerned with military threats to the regional and the global order.

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While the agenda of security had been steadily widened to encompass environment and poverty, now health is firmly a part of this agenda. War and violent conflict are no longer considered to be the only threat to human security. It is now argued that human security, that is, absence of pervasive and deep-rooted fear and uncertainty, can only be ensured when people have access to material goods that satisfy their basic needs for food, home and income. While physical and material self-sufficiency, both of which are identifiable and tangible, lie at the core of human security, the concept also includes non-material and intangible but identifiable aspects of the human condition such as respect and human dignity. In other words, physical and material security is a necessary, but not a sufficient condition of living a meaningful human existence. The other equally necessary component of security is the right to live a life of dignity marked by personal autonomy, control over one’s decisions and the right of unhindered participation in the national political community as well as the right to one’s cultural community. Emancipation from any kind of discrimination on the basis of language, caste, religion or other ascriptive identities is a precondition for living a life free of fear. The concept of security as a matter of course presumes that the country has a democratic political system because it is only democracy that privileges the wellbeing of individuals as a matter of individual rights. However, arguably there is some danger in widening the concept of security to such an extent that it may risk implosion through overuse. This seems to be the fate of concepts that attract the imagination of political practitioners and scholars. The employment of a privileged concept in contexts, which may be better conceptualized through the employment of another concept may actually lead to some confusion. Let me elucidate the point: for instance, what has been normally thought of as, say a right to food, income and wellbeing is now being conceptualized as security of food, income and well-being. While nothing prevents us from conceptualizing rights to and security of as synonymous, there is, let me suggest a major conceptual difference between the two terms. Certainly security and rights can be legitimately regarded as companion concepts, but they are not synonymous. They cannot be used interchangeably nor can they be collapsed into each other for the following reasons.

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Consider that security is a property that is attached to a specific state of affairs which is marked by confidence, assurance and freedom from fear. I am secure if I know that my life and liberty are safe and no one, especially the police can knock on my door at the proverbial midnight hour and haul me off to an unknown destination where I languish for the rest of my life. But the right not to be so hauled off is mine because of three factors; democracy, the rule of law and civil rights. Civil rights stipulate that every human being has a basic right not be interfered with or prevented from carrying on the normal activities of his/her daily life. This proposition does not demand any deep philosophical justification, apart from the idea that human beings have certain rights by virtue of being human. The morality of the proposition is so self-evident that it needs no justification. Consequently, when an individual is reasonably confident that his/her basic civil liberties will be respected by the state, as well as protected against say some armed groups in society, he/she is secure. There is, therefore, a significant distinction between security and rights. We have a right to our lives and to our liberty. The assertion of a right places a corresponding obligation on the state to protect the existence of and the exercise of human rights. It is important to note that the state does not make us secure in the possession of our rights as a matter of benevolence. It does so because rights have been asserted, and when rights are asserted, this assertion compels obligation. This is the moral clout of rights. Correspondingly, security is a property that is attached to a state of affairs where our basic rights are protected and respected by reason of right. We have a right to demand security for the possession and the exercise of our rights. Security is, in sum, supervened upon rights. In other words, the concept of security itself is a derivative concept; it derives from the notion of rights. Therefore, when we state that the state has an obligation to provide us security, this obligation stems from the fact that we have a right to be secure in the possession of and in the exercise of our rights. Obligation, in other words, is dependent upon rights, and not the other way around. Unless we possess rights, and unless the state’s obligation to provide us security corresponds to our rights, we will be rendered dependent. We will be dependent on how the state conceptualizes security in its own vocabulary and on its own terms. Consequently, we as mere recipients of obligation will simply lack status as the bearer of rights.

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Let me illustrate with the following example. If I am dependent on the state for security, the holders of state power may well think that my security is not important in the face of the security of the state. Unless I am in a position to assert my right to be secure materially and physically, the state can easily believe that I do not deserve security because I do not contribute to the project of the nation-state, or that my needs do not deserve to be honoured, or my demands are not worthy of being heeded. My status as a moral being is simply irrelevant, even invisible, neither worthy of being taken cognizance of, nor worthy of being heeded. Pufendorf and more famously, Bentham had argued that all propositions involving rights can with ease be translated into propositions based on duties. This may be called as a simple theory of beneficence. If the duty-bearer, in this case the state, fails to perform its duty to provide security, our rights are not violated because we possess no corresponding right to what the state is distributing, in this case, security. That is because the security being distributed by the state belongs to it by right; we are only the recipient of security, we have no right to it. The relationship that clusters around the rendering of a duty (of the state) is, therefore, substantially different to one that clusters around rights, which are centred on the individual. Therefore, when we attempt to build a theory which is centred on the individual as the bearer of rights, we can begin by making a proposition that p (the person) is entitled to something in his/her own right, or that p has r (a right) to x, y or z (security). The placement of r as an insertion between p and x, y, z, will make x or y or z available to p. This theory, first, establishes a relationship between the rights-holder and the goods she/he asserts a right to. Second, it establishes a relationship between p and all those who are in a position to affect p’s access to, exercise of, and retention of x, y or z. The invocation of a right to these goods, will be sufficient reason for all those who are in a position to affect p’s access to, exercise of, and retention of x, y and z, to provide her with the goods s/he asserts a right to. Obligations are a correlate of rights, not the other way around, as the simple theory of beneficence tells us. Certainly, the proposition that p possesses r can not be empirically proved or tested against some concrete evidence. The proposition that people are entitled to assert rights to something is a proposition

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whose morality is self-evident. When we assert an ethical proposition, we are, in effect, choosing sides or announcing our stand: this is how human beings should be treated. It is time, it seems to me, to assert the moral and the political primacy of rights in the context of South Asia and recognize that security supervenes upon the idea of rights. Without security, my rights may mean nothing, but without rights, the state may not feel obliged to secure a state of affairs where my rights are respected. If security is a property of a state of affairs where one’s rights are respected, we can distinguish between two kinds of security— negative and positive security. When the state does not intervene in the exercise of my basic rights such as the right to freedom of expression and freedom to protest, this constitutes negative security or the absence of impediment. In other words, I am reasonably confident that if I do not cross the boundaries of decency or propriety while expressing my opinion, no arm of the state will prevent me from doing so. Now consider that if someone wanted to express his/her opinion in writing, s/he may not be able to do so, simply because the state has not provided her/him with the wherewithal for doing so that is provided her/him with literacy. In other words, the ability to express my opinion in writing assumes that I am in a position to do so because the state has provided me with an opportunity to educate myself. This consideration leads us to the notion of positive security, or that in order to assert rights to freedom of expression, people need to be made aware of the possibilities that society affords them. This is only possible when the state considers that it is obliged to provide education to its citizens. This argument is not new to human rights thinking. Substantive democrats have long argued that the meaningful exercise of civil liberties requires social and economic rights to education among other things as a precondition. The right to freedom means little without the right to food, or shelter, or income, or health or education. A hungry human being is not a free human being; neither is a nonliterate human a free human being. This is because education makes us aware of the possibilities that the world has to offer to individuals. Correspondingly, my civil right to freedom, places an obligation on the state to provide the conditions for the meaningful exercise of rights. Correspondingly, I am secure when the state does not prevent me from exercising my rights. But I am insecure when I am not

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in a position to exercise my rights because I am dis-privileged, because I am non-literate. My negative as well as positive rights thus place a dual obligation on the state, in the form of providing me with both negative as well as positive security. The same argument can be made when it comes to our political rights. We have the right to participate in elections to vote a government into power, we also have to right not to vote if we do not want to do so. We are secure when no one forces us to cast a vote here and not there, or forces us not to vote. Freedom rests in our ability to choose a course of action—to do or not to do—without restraint. This is negative security. However, in order for me to exercise my right to vote, the government must institute regular and free elections and a competitive party system. This is positive security. I am secure in the possession of my right to vote because the conditions under which I can exercise this right have been institutionalized. The same argument applies to the realm of social and economic rights. I can exercise my political and civil rights when I am reasonably confident that I have access to resources that can satisfy my material needs of food, shelter, health, clothing and a regular income. Material security is a precondition for my doing anything at all. Now, I can be secure in two ways. First through my own endeavours, that is, by relying on my ability to compete in a market economy. In this case, security is negative in as much as it will attach to an individual’s civil right to take up a job, acquire and sell property and to make his/her life the way s/he wants to without any impediment on his/her ability to do so. Alternatively, if I want to trade in a particular commodity, the state will not interfere, unless of course, that commodity is a proscribed item such as drugs or pornography. The kind of security that will devolve upon the second state of affairs, welfarism, is different; it is positive in nature. This form of security devolves upon social and economic rights. When an individual who is not in a position to compete in the market economy because she is poor or illiterate or if she suffers from malnutrition, the state is obliged to provide her with the resources she needs to live a life of dignity—the right to food, income or shelter. Security, in this context, characterizes a state of affairs where an individual is reasonably confident that the state will not let his/her basic social and economic rights go unheeded.

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Historically, different kinds of philosophies have been employed to justify the two roads to security—libertarianism for the first road and welfarism for the second. The first road, as argued above, has to do with an individual’s basic civil rights to travel, trade or take up a job. Provided these are legitimate and reasonable activities, the state should not interfere. In other words, I should be reasonably confident that if I want to pursue a career in academics, the state does not command me to do something else. This confidence which originates in my civil right not to be interfered with leads to negative security. The second road to security, that is, welfarism leads to a substantially different path. Welfare states are premised upon the assumption that the state exists to secure the collective good. The legitimacy of the state depends upon not only providing physical security and in not interfering in the day-to-day lives of its people, but also on providing material goods that enhance the capacity of individuals to do anything else. In the 1994 Human Development Report, Mahbub Ul Haq drew attention to precisely these wider notions of human security. The report suggested that: . . . for too long, the concept of security has been shaped by the potential for conflict between states. For too long, security has been equated with threats to a country’s borders. For too long, nations have sought arms to protect their security. For most people today, a feeling of insecurity arises more from worries about daily life than from the dread of a cataclysmic world event. Job security, income security, health security, environmental security, security from crime, these are the emerging concerns of human security all over the world. (UNDP Human Development Report 1994: 3)

This report influenced the UN’s World Summit on Social Development held in Copenhagen in 1995. Later, the UNDP refined the concept of human security and thereby enlarged the idea of human development by characterizing poverty as a denial of choices and opportunities which are essential for living a life with some dignity. Material poverty is deeply implicated in other kinds of poverty, the kind of poverty which results from a denial of literacy, life expectancy and other such indicators. In sum, the concept of positive security supervenes upon not only absence of impediment but also positive action to take care of the deprived sections of citizens by making better provisions for their health, education and income.

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The first kind of security, that is, where the state does not interfere in the efforts of individuals to make their own lives refers to individual security. Welfarism, on the other hand, leads to collective security. The difference between the two is not inconsequential, though in both cases, the kind of security that is available will be dependent on the kind of rights that an individual possesses and exercises in a given society. Security, thus, supervenes upon rights as a companion concept but rights are, once again, of a higher order than security. The state is obliged to institute security because we have rights and rights compel obligations on the part of the state. The third kind of security devolves upon a third set of rights— cultural rights. Cultural rights, which belong to the third generation of rights, are meant to assure individuals the right to their cultures, religion and languages, and thereby, making them secure in their cultural identities. Security, in this context, is the property of a state of affairs where individuals can engage in cultural and religious practices that they consider are significant for them as human beings. These beliefs and commitments must not, however, contravene the rule of law.5 No one can, for instance, claim the right via his or her religion to practice female infanticide and legitimize it by reference to that religion. It is only recently that theorists have begun to deliberate on cultural rights because the earlier two generations of rights were premised upon the notion of an atomised individual who bears no mark of his/her gender, caste, religion or history. Culture was not a factor in the theoretical calculations of rights theorists. That is because individual rights were originally asserted in feudal and pre-capitalist contexts where an individual had no identity and no rights as a human being. It was important to theoretically construct an ‘unencumbered’ human being who must have rights just because he is human. It is important to remember that in Thomas Hobbes’s conception of the individual in the Leviathan, the individual in the pre-political and pre-social state of nature is not embedded in a society which speaks a language, practises a culture or has a history. Hobbes was able to assert the freedom and equality of every human being, because every human being in his state of nature possessed rights under natural law. Consequently, for political theorists, individuals appeared on the political stage as self-legislating and autonomous beings,

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charting their life plans independent of any historically handed-down conceptions of the good. Liberals consider these individuals of some value since they possess the faculty of assessing and choosing their conceptions of the good autonomously and independently of any supra-individualist organizations such as communities. Liberal individualists are, thus, careful to design political arrangements that further the autonomy and the well-being of this individual. It is important to note here that the affiliative community of the individual or his/her attachments to the community simply does not enter the political calculations of liberal individualists.6 Communitarians however argue that history has never known of an individual who is without a history, language or culture. In other words, every individual is embedded in and constituted by his/her community, culture and history.7 Most communitarians share the belief that human beings acquire thick conceptions of the good from their community. These conceptions which shape and pervade beliefs, actions and commitments of the members, enable a moral point of view as opposed to the claims of a transcendental, universal reason. This is of such overwhelming importance that the constitutive attachments of this self must be recognized and honoured. Notwithstanding some trenchant critiques of the communitarian school of thought, there is, no doubt, a kernel of truth in these formulations for Communitarians have helped us to appreciate the constitutiveness of the individual and also recognize that communities are valuable for their members. The tradition and shared values provided by our culture and religion allow us to become thinking, evaluative beings. Without these systems of meaning, an individual will have no way of judging the worth of an idea, whether it is good or bad, just or unjust. To put the point differently, the image of an individual choosing his/her values and ways of life out of thin air cannot be persuasive, simply because this individual will have no way of knowing what is valuable and what is not. Only our culture can attach value to things and inform us of what is noble or base, honourable or dishonourable, generous or parsimonious and so on. Therefore, denying the right to culture will not only make individuals insecure about their religion and way of life but also deprive them of the very meaning systems that inform their actions, ideas and evaluations.

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In sum, individuals should possess the right to their culture, religion, and language, because without such rights, they will be diminished as human beings. In the South Asian context, for instance, language is important for Mohajirs, Sindhis and Baluchis in Pakistan and Tamils in Sri Lanka. Since every language expresses an identity, these people should have the right to their language and this right should be secured through sustained government efforts of (a) not interfering in the practices of religious or linguistic minorities and (b) providing positive conditions for that language and religion to flourish. Apart from normative considerations that underlie cultural rights, there is a more pragmatic consideration that motivates state action in this regard. States have increasingly recognized that the failure to secure cultural rights is likely to cause discontent, conflict, anomie and, in extreme situations, armed struggles. If minority cultures or languages are devalued, members of that culture resist because that culture is valuable for them. Moreover, if the state discriminates against minorities and privileges majorities, the minorities suffer from a loss of belonging or identification with the state. And lack of identification with the state leads to alienation, discontent and, at times, insurrection. Keeping in mind widespread political discontent and near civil war conditions in some parts of South Asia, let me suggest that minority identities should be secured through the grant of rights even as these groups are assured of universal human rights. This seems to be the most viable option for plural societies in the subcontinent. These measures will provide security and neutralize discontent. Minority rights can, therefore, be justified on both normative and pragmatic grounds. Security, in short, is not only brought about through coercion or prevention of armed struggle, but by empowering ethnic minorities. We are, of course, assuming that the majorities are already secure in the right to their culture.

SUMMING UP Security, this essay has argued, is a companion concept to human rights. While this formulation asserts the priority principle of rights, it acknowledges that rights can prove meaningless without security.

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However, security is not an autonomous concept; it is attached to rights. It is a property that is attached to a state of affairs where we are reasonably confident that our rights are respected and enforced. In the specific case of South Asia, I suggest that people will be secure only when their right to physical integrity, basic needs and cultural communities are upheld. I therefore suggest that the concept of security should built on that of rights, instead of replacing the language of rights or seeking to subsume it. This is essential for it is only when we sort out our concepts that we can begin to unravel the implications, the consequences and the significance of politicallycharged issues and battles. We need good conceptual understanding in order to map out where our society has come from, where we have gone wrong, where we may possibly be headed towards, and how we think of retrievals and re-negotiations. But good conceptual understanding has to take into account the fact that concepts are neither self-sufficient nor free-floating. Concepts acquire their meaning and their relevance from other concepts which they overlap with. Rights and security may not be synonymous; but they are companion concepts which draw their strength from each other. It is this that has to be kept in mind when we try to negotiate the many problems that the troubled region of South Asia is afflicted with.

ENDNOTES 1. I am personally uncomfortable with the use of the term ethnicity as a catchall term, which refers to distinct identities, language, culture, religion and regional affiliation. If I use the term, it is as shorthand to indicate that people subscribe to different beliefs and speak different languages. Within the ethnic map of any country, we will find groups that belong to a minority. Whereas minority is a term that refers to numbers, it can also refer to groups which possess a distinct religion, culture, or language of their own, who have a distinct identity by this reason, who wish to perpetuate this identity, and who are thereby regarded with disfavour by the majority, which would rather that they merge into what is euphemistically termed the mainstream. 2. If we were to survey the language scenario in India in the year 1991, it would look something like this. Among the Indo-Aryan languages, 30.4 per cent of the people speak Hindi—the numbers being 258.4 million, 7.7 per cent of the people, that is, 65.5 million people speak Bengali, 7.6 per cent of the

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3.

4. 5.

6. 7.

population or 64.6 million people speak Marathi, 39.1 million people speak Gujarati, which amounts to 4.6 per cent of the population; 30.6 million speak Oriya amounting to 3.6 per cent of the population, 21.3 million or 2.5 per cent of the population is Punjabi speaking, and 13.6 million or 1.6 per cent of the population speaks Assamese. Among the Dravidian languages, 73.1 million people or 8.6 per cent of the population speaks Telugu, 59.5 million or 7 per cent of the people speak Tamil, 34 million or 4 per cent of the people speak Kannada, and 33.2 million or 3.9 per cent of the people speak Malayalam. 21.3 million or 2.5 per cent of Indians speak English and 45 million or 5.3 per cent speak Urdu. The largest group in India thus speaks Hindi or related dialects, followed by Telugu, Marathi and Bengali speakers. These figures represent, however, a handful of languages spoken in India, which according to the 1961 census numbered above 1650. The 1971 census records mother tongues that are not included within the Eighth Schedule of the constitution such as Bhili, Dogri, Gondi, Khandeshi, Oraon, Santal, and Tulu. Further we find that very large numbers of people speak a particular language. Robert King, for instance, points out that Telugu is spoken by 68,000,000 people, which dwarfs the number of people who speak, say Swedish and Hungarian and exceeds by almost twenty million the number of French speakers in France (King 1997: 3). Since the 1970s, the Chakmas have been trying to secure autonomy for the three districts that make up more than 5000 square miles of the Chittagong Hill Tracts bordering India and Burma. Thousands have died in the struggle even as the Bangladesh government encouraged Muslim Bengalis to settle in the area. The presence of the army as a permanent feature in the area has prompted discontent as well as the migration of large numbers of people to neighbouring Tripura state in India. It was only in 1983 that Barry Buzan published his seminal work on People, States, and Fear: The National Security Problem in International Relations. I assume that the rule of law is a conceptual bandwagon for an objective and neutral frame of rules and regulations that arbitrate conflicts between individuals and between the state and individuals. I use culture as a hold-all concept, which includes language and religion. See Margalit and Halbertal 1994; Taylor 1989; MacIntyre 1995: 34–35; Sandel 1982.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Buzan, Barry. 1983. People, States, and Fear: The National Security Problem in International Relations. Brighton: Wheatsheaf. Gurr, Ted Robert. 1993. Minorities at Risk. Washington DC: US Institute of Peace Press.

270 Neera Chandhoke International Labour Organisation. 2004. Economic Security for a Better World. Geneva: ILO. King, Robert D. 1997. Nehru and the Language Politics of India. New Delhi. Oxford University Press. MacIntyre, Alisdair. 1995. ‘The Spectre of Communitarianism’, Review Article, Radical Philosophy, 70: 34–35. Margalit, Avaishai and Moshe Halbertal. 1994. ‘Liberalism and the Right to Culture’, Social Research, 61(3, Fall): 491–510. Phadnis, Urmila. 1984. ‘Ethnic Dimensions of Nepalese Politics’, in Kenneth Ballhatchet and David Taylor (eds), Changing South Asia: Development and Welfare. Hong Kong: Asian Research Service. Rousseau, J.J. 1770–71, 1972. The Government of Poland. Translated by W. Kendall. Indianapolis: N Bobbs Merrill. Sandel, Michael. 1982. Liberalism and the Limits of Justice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Smith D. 1997. The State of War and Peace Atlas. London: Penguin. Taylor, Charles. 1989. Sources of the Self. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. UNDP Human Development Report 1994. New Delhi: Oxford University Press.

12 States in Crisis, Subalternity and Security Stakes The Case for a Track-Three Strategy in South Asia Anand Aditya

When politics becomes lifeless, the triple Vedas sink; All the dharmas, howsoever developed, completely decay. When traditional state ethics are departed from; All the bases of divisions of life are shattered. In politics are realized all forms of renunciation; In politics are united all sacraments. In politics are combined all (forms of ) knowledge; In politics are centered all the worlds. Mahabharata, Shanti Parva, 63.28.29

CRISIS SYNDROME AND INSECURITY

T

he states in South Asia are in crisis. It is not just a crisis of governance as one report claims. Nor is it merely the crisis of poverty as many assume. It is a crisis that transcends political and financial borders. The third dimension of state crisis in South Asia is the security crisis. In the case of the largest state in South Asia, Rajni Kothari sees a fundamental crisis not only in the arrangement of the affairs of society, but also of the state in India. He argues that technological and fundamentalist perversions have rendered the Indian state into a playground for corruption, criminalization and terror for the majority of

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the people and a cynical withdrawal from the political process on the part of the urban elites. The key issue in the current crisis, according to him, is: how to relate the movements for transformation to the subalterns (Kothari 1990: 404–05). Talking about crisis brings to mind the Poverty Crisis that afflicts the region where the per cent of population below the poverty line ranges from 26.7 to nearly 50. This means, on average, almost 32 per cent of the people here are living in abject poverty or around 433 million, an issue which, in turn, is coupled with ‘social-political tensions, armed insurgencies, gender discrimination and violence, child labour and appalling in equality between the rich and the poor’ (SAAPE 2003: 2). In fact, most South Asian states seem to suffer from a crisis syndrome of sorts, of which the crisis of governance is only one. A crisis here is to be regarded as a certain stage of conflict when unexpected events erupt suddenly as a consequence of some ongoing conflict raising the tensions and perceived threats to such a point that the decision makers involved are forced to choose between extreme alternatives. The hallmarks of crisis, according to K.J. Holsti, are ‘unanticipated action by the opponent, perception of great threat, perception of limited time for decision or response, and perception of disastrous consequences from in action’ (Holsti 1981: 461). Such a situation adds suddenly and unpredictably to the insecurity of the whole society and nation involved. The various wars that the region has witnessed and the communal uprisings, especially after 1947, exemplify these points. This is not to say that every conflict will grow into a crisis, a stage which is determined by several other factors. But analysis of various issues faced by the developing polities makes it easier to understand why the South Asian countries are afflicted by a number of crises accentuating further the intensity, magnitude, and spread of overall insecurity at both the human and state level. The clusters of crises which states like those of the South Asian region have been facing at present have been the focus of analysis among a wide range of authors spanning from David Apter’s threefold crises of institutionalization, socialization, and internalization (Apter 1981: 421–30), Samuel P. Huntington’s stability crisis proposition (cited in Apter, Ibid: 520–21), and the six developmental crises enumerated by Lucian W. Pye (Pye 1996: 63–67).

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CONCEPTUAL FRAMEWORK The roots of conflict in South Asia lie in legacies of colonialism; in the efforts of the newly independent countries to fashion their national identities and safeguard their security; and, the lack of an adequate and effective conflict control mechanism (Gupta 1985: 220). Jasjit Singh sees the real threats to security in South Asia in ‘proxy wars, externally-supported military and trans-national terrorism’ (Singh 1995: 208). This article posits that the real roots of conflict and threats to the security of the region lie within rather than outside the region—a dimension that remains ignored or neglected.

Revisiting Security Four paradoxes surfaced in the second half of the 20th century: transformation of Europe from the most warlike continent into the most peaceful region of the world; intra-state conflicts superseding interstate conflicts (Renner 1999: 16); a steady growth in the level of armament paralleled by a steady decline in the level of security; and a situation where a domineering control over resources or behaviour of others did not assure the desired outcomes. After the dawn of the Cold War, the nuclear euphoria did not take long to evaporate. Nuclear weapons defended only so long as they deterred. The nuclear paradox is that the more security a state gains in terms of absolute capability (that is, the kill potential), the more insecure it becomes in terms of the consequences it brings (Stone 1988: 75). The spread of nuclear armaments in the hands of (anarchic) states led Kenneth Boulding to declare that national defence had become the greatest enemy of national security (Boulding 1986: 31–33).

Security Redefined Security in the conventional sense has been defined relatively simply—in the Westphalian framework—in terms of the territorial security and sovereignty of the state. The conditions that have appeared on the world scene after the end of the Cold War, particularly

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after 9/11, however, compel a new definition. While such attempts at redefining the term are not without problems—both conceptual and analytical—highlighting the risk of overextending the scope and confusion, suffice it to point out that the fast changing global scenario demands a new definition that can complement the state dimension of security with a larger social dimension termed as human security related to the individual citizens. Redefining security thus makes it more holistic since it combines both the state and human components of security as Barry Buzan (1997) and Lloyd Pettiford (1996) have pointed out. Human security, says Mahbub ul Haq, implies security of people, not just territory; of individuals, not just of nations; through development, not through arms; and security of all the people everywhere—in their homes, in their jobs, in their streets, in their communities and in their environment. According to Haq, this emerging concept is a powerful, revolutionary idea that ‘forces a new morality on all of us through a perception of common threats to our very survival’ and can serve as the basis for a new human world order but it would require five determined steps—a new concept of development, a new phase of disarmament, a new framework of development cooperation, a new framework of global governance as also a global civil society (Haq 1999: 115–25). An alternative term in vogue is Cooperative Security which ‘tends to connote consultation rather than deterrence; transparency rather than secrecy, prevention rather than correction and interdependence rather than unilateralist (sic).’1 In the course of explaining the security crisis in South Asia, the article argues that a security crisis is predominantly the consequence of a yawning gap in defining security—human security. Human insecurity, in turn, is rooted in structural conflicts which have assumed crisis proportions in the region. The stakes in security are essentially of three types—existential stake related to a state’s survival; process stake bearing upon broadening and deepening of democratization; and teleological stake related to sustained growth and development. But since security is a critical foundation for sustainable development and poverty and insecurity systematically tend to reinforce each other (OECD 2001), security becomes the first prerequisite to the attainment of any one of these three objectives. Part of the problem with the traditional concept of security is the

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absence of a measuring index and the absence of an operational mechanism to materialize it in concrete terms. Resolution of the crisis calls for an innovative strategy and agenda different from the existing ones. Before analysing these problems, it will be in order to first lay out a set of concepts that have been used in this article. Structural Conflict A generic type of conflict built inherently into the social and political structure of a society and a fundamental part of its nature. Structural Crisis A crisis born of structural conflict with roots deeper than crises that do not occur only as a matter of chance and are more complex and demand serious strategies for solution. Structural Insecurity Insecurity originating from structural conflicts and crises and likely to sustain longer than insecurity born of direct violence that may be more ephemeral. It is also important to take note of the key features of South Asian states and societies most of which have subsistential cultures with parochial attitudes, orientations, and norms and a subject political culture with many people subsisting below the poverty line. Politically, the states share a certain type of ruling regimes typical of the ‘soft state’ governments of the Third World in transition, which are oriented toward a subsistence mode of political management and are essentially incapable of pushing the goals of system development due to their in-built weaknesses. For the purpose of this analysis, they could be called survival regimes. And in developing this argument, the article makes the following points: • Survival regimes and weak political capital that characterize most of the states in South Asia today imply a poor ability to comprehend and evaluate the impact of structural conflicts, crises, and insecurity as also a weak conflict management capacity. • Structural conflicts are likely to develop into structural crises and structural insecurities with larger frequency and with more deleterious impact in ‘soft states’ than elsewhere.

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• The longer the delay in the recognition of structural conflicts, and weaker the capacity of the ruling regimes to handle them, the larger and more complex the putative impact on the crisis and insecurity coping capacity of political regimes. • The existing model of regional security in the region is a nonstarter. • The region demands a proactive cooperation regime for the development of an effective security community. • Despite the setbacks suffered so far in making headway, SAARC does have immense scope for progress, given the changing environment of the day, given the geo-political compactness of the region, and the resources that can be harnessed from the region and the Indian Ocean. • The radical shift in the paradigm of values, goals, and approaches to the traditional modes of defence, democratization and development is likely to aid the process of the regionalist security movement in the future. • Finally, the situation demands a triadic strategy.

Security Stakes and the Gaps in the Concept The salience of security manifests itself in multiple forms—as a citizen’s need, as a community demand, as a duty of the police and armed forces, or as the supreme obligation of the state to its citizens. As such, the need to probe deeper into its anatomy and dynamics is hard to exaggerate. To say this, however, is to raise certain questions: What are the stakes and how is one to define their nature? Can security be measured? And what needs to be done to establish Security Building Measures (SBM)? The stakes in security are obviously manifold and are of a basic nature functioning in most cases as an infrastructure, as a sort of prerequisite or sine qua non to the realization, and consolidation of not only the subsistential and human rights, but also to the process of democratization as well as growth and development. This would be the basic rationale behind proposing the idea of Right to Security, which is sought and held at more than one level—primary (citizen), secondary (organization) and tertiary (state). Contrary to

States in Crisis, Subalternity and Security Stakes 277

the prevailing idea that stakes are static and fixed, they can be conceived as something evolving and becoming. In fact, stakes that may entail the interests, goals or needs of political actors involved in a process often keep changing over time which implies change in the nature of relationship between the various stakeholders. Such a dynamic approach to stake-holding and stake-building will demand a closer look into its process, and possibly a restructuring of its dynamics. Security, moreover, can manifest itself in more than one form and level. A comprehensive and dynamic approach to security, if it is to be meaningful, must be both specific at the microlevel and, comprehensive enough to cover all the basic ingredients to lend it a universal character. As to security index, one may ask why there is none so far, in view of the plethora of indices that have appeared over the last couple of decades—Human Development Index (HDI), Gender Development Index (GDI), Gender Empowerment Measure (GEM) as well as various other measures to compare poverty (Human Poverty Index, HPI) and corruption. It is also important to develop the concept of Security Building Measures (SBM) at the neighbourhood, community, institutions, state and the regional levels.

SECURITY PARADOX IN SOUTH ASIA While the miracles of science and technology and information revolution have brought the possibility of mass development at humanity’s door, the failure of the economic growth to advance human development is evident in South Asia in the disparity of the countries on two fronts—external and internal. Anaemic and unbalanced jobless growth has brought about the paradox of poverty: renewed economic growth on the one hand and worsening disparities on the other; decline in the total number of the poor paralleled by a rise in the number of people in extreme poverty. As a consequence, the poorest of the poor benefit last, and the least from the enabling macroeconomic environment, a consequence of the modernization agenda, which creates structural insecurity for the masses. The Human Development in South Asia report presented a very gloomy picture in 1999—the world’s poorest, the most illiterate, the

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most malnourished, the least sensitive to the needs of the women, with one of the largest income disparities and, one of the most poorly governed regions of the world (1999: 2–3). Dubbed as one of the most conflict-prone regions of the world, Pakistan, India, Sri Lanka, and Nepal ranked 2nd, 9th, 10th and 12th riskiest countries respectively in the Global Terrorism Index for 2003–04 compiled by the World Markets Research Centre, all of them surpassing the 75 per cent mark.2 The security paradox in South Asia can be explained in terms of five dimensions some of which are generic while others are specific to the region. For instance, the three largest countries of the region— India, Pakistan and Bangladesh—share a common civilizational culture, but divided into three separate nation-states, they have ended up with considerable mutual animus, suspicion and hostility for each other rendering them very insecure vis-à-vis one another. The region’s insecurity stems more from internal threats than the external ones and these have proven to be more costly than the inter-state conflicts. In the external domain, the treaties effected over the years between the states to ensure security have often resulted in causing more conflicts. The Nepal-India Treaty of Friendship and Security of 1950 and the Accord on Indian Peace Keeping Forces signed between India and Sri Lanka in 1987 are cases in point. Finally, the acquisition of nuclear arsenals by India and Pakistan has failed to make them secure. This was proved by the 1999 battle over Kargil that remains history’s first direct combat between nuclear-armed powers. It also showed that nuclear deterrence does not necessarily relegate conventional deterrence and lead to reduction of expenditure on conventional forces. On the contrary, India and Pakistan have bucked the world-wide trends of an over-all decline in defence spending. Many defence analysts further argue that defence budgets have become one of the key sources for grand corruption in South Asia with the government invoking national security considerations to avoid scrutiny (Shaah 2001: 46). At the same time, despite the balance of nuclear terror in place, there is a noticeable increase in the sub-nationalist groups resorting to violent insurgencies in the region. As a result, small arms proliferation is underway with long-range implications for internal security of the state. The most deleterious impact of large-scale and sustained militarization can be

States in Crisis, Subalternity and Security Stakes 279

seen in the social diffusion of the tendency toward violence, which often acquires its own momentum. This has happened in Afghanistan, Pakistan as well as Nepal. One possible explanation for the paradox can be found in the statist approach to governance, security and development which puts the state at the centre at the cost of the people, ignoring, marginalizing or bypassing the latter’s roles altogether. The traditional approach also regards the state as the key locus of sovereignty and the supreme arbiter on the issue of nationalism. Such an approach ultimately ends up making the existing mode of interaction between two states a vector or progenitor of conflicts and insecurity in the long run. The security paradox could be explained in terms of a U-curve on a graph where initial progress in economic or military growth, or even in the course of democratization, leads first to a visible decline in insecurity and increase in conflicts when a concomitant growth in the realization of human rights and people’s individual developmental aspirations is not possible, or else, when what Kai Nielsen calls Socially Basic Rights, rights prerequisite to the realization of other rights (exemplified in security and subsistence rights), are not realized (Nielsen 1988: 274–75). By a socially-basic right, he means ‘a right whose satisfaction is necessary to the enjoyment of any other rights’, and quoting Henry Shue, explains security rights as ‘the right not to be subject to killing, torture, assault and the like’ (although the definition assumed in this particular discourse adopts a much broader scope for the theme of security as such) and subsistence rights in terms of the ‘rights to healthy air, water, adequate food, clothing, and shelter’. The socially-basic rights are regarded as ‘strategically central because they are the means for satisfying all other rights’ and must first be secured before other rights (such as civil rights) are secured’ (Ibid.) The contradictions outlined above throw up three questions. How do various countries of the region fare on human and military security? Where does the region as a whole stand in that regard? And, how do the public view the issues at stake? A clear picture emerges from the following comparative profile of the South Asian countries in Table 12.1. While considerable diversity is evident among the states in the physical aspects, such as area and population, on a number of other

Year of founding/independence Area 000 km Population million 2004 GNP billion dollars 2004 GNP per capita at ppp 2004 Population below $ 1 a day. 1995–2002 Wealth of Nation per capita Civil Disorder Index, 1948–77 Deaths from Pol. Violence, 1948–77 Number killed in Police Encounter, 1997–98 11. Human Distress Profile a. Cases Pending in Courts b. Reported Rapes c. Armed Robberies d. Murders

11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 10.

6.3 11.0 3.7 1.6

14.5 33.0 2.3 1.0

1947 3,288 1079.7 674.60 3,100 35.3 4,300 4,146 7,596

India

756

1907 47 0.89 0.67 … … 6,500

Bhutan

23

1971 144 140.5 61.20 198 36 3,100 41 1,490

Bangladesh

Table 12.1 A Comparative Security Profile of South Asian Countries

1965 0.3 0.30 0.75 … … 8,800 31 2

Maldives

1.0 1.0 1.0 1.1

93

1768 141 25.2 6.50 1,470 39.1 1,600 237 133

Nepal

1.4 7.0 7.2 1.3

702

1947 796 152.1 90.7 2,160 17.0 6,800 1,093 34,446

Pakistan

20.0 33.3 3.7

32

1948 66 19.4 19.6 400 5.6 9,400 186 5,583

Sri Lanka

14. Human Development Index (HDI) 15. Gender—related Development Index (GDI) 1997 16. Human Governance Index (HGI) 17. Political Freedom Index PFI (0 lowest, 100 highest) 18. Gross Human Rights Violation GHRV (1 lowest, 5 highest)

12. Percentage of People without Access to a. Healthcare b. Sanitation c. Drinking water d. Education 13. Three Top Priorities for Govt. Budget

4

3

4

.525 .577

15 71 19 48 Educ-n Inflat-n Empl-t .545

71.5

.444

.459

35 30 42 58

69

.428 .462

55 65 21 62 Defence Educ-n Gen. Administr-n. .440

2

.711

.716

25 34 4 7

2

57.3

.441

58 80 52 72 Educ-n Health Empl-t .463

3

64.3

.472 .502

45 70 40 62 Defence Educ-n Dev-t. .508

4

58.3

.712 .465

7 34 43 10 Inflation Soc. welfare Gen. Dev-t .721

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parameters related to value distribution and development (GNP per capita, wealth of nation, HDI, GDI, HGI), the indices appear comparably close, usually below the acceptable level with few exceptions. In the percentage of people without access to basic services (item 12) such as healthcare, sanitation, drinking water, and education, the situation is miserable, with a substantial share of each country’s population denied access except for Maldives and Sri Lanka. The human distress profile (item 11) offers no better picture except in Nepal’s case which has slightly declined in the past one decade but with social crime spiralling. Even the picture on the freedom and human rights front emerges as a mixed one at the best, skewed to the lower side of the scale (items 16, 17, 18). While in terms of real inter-state war the countries show a positive trend, except the India–Pakistan pair indicating a state of negative balance with the three wars fought in the last 50 years and the priority given to defence (item 13), the internal situation except in Maldives remains turbulent everywhere. On a number of other human security items, too, the situation is hardly reassuring (items 8, 9, 10). All this would largely explain the nature of citizen perception on issues such as faith in the political system, political party, legal order, political leaders, judges, police officers, and corruption. The Human Development Report 1999 showed that consistently high proportions of the respondents felt negatively on all these issues which does not portend well (1999: Annex B). ‘The irony’, as the Human Development Report 2002 noted, ‘is that those most in need of professional, well-functioning security forces—poor and socially-excluded people—are generally the most suspicious of the services these public institutions provide, and not without reason. They recognize that all too often, security forces are behind the proliferation of civil conflict’ (2002: 88). In fact, the failure of the conventional nationstate project was written into its very roots: conflict, crisis, violence and insecurity were built into the constitution through some of the basic policies and principles of the state itself. The traditional majority-centred policy-making structures in the region have meant security only for the majority whose leverage on power and military order has tended to alienate and deprive the minorities. In the domain of security, it is often the pride and prejudices of the ruling majority which have ended up displacing, disabling or preempting

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the opportunity access of the minorities and disadvantaged groups, the main reason behind the rising refrains for secession, division, and emergence of new political formations. Such a mode of power play invariably breeds conflicts. The classical form of the South Asian state has thus turned out to be a futile exercise in caricature for an imaginary future that ill-fits both its illustrious past and potential future. Trying to evolve a unitarian command state where diversity is the rule was a fundamentally false start. It was not a product of consent or social contract but rather an accident of colonial history, a manufactured reality surviving through the use of force, often exercised in egregiously violent ways.

SOURCES OF INSECURITY Structural Insecurity The structuralist approach in international relations theory differs from behaviouralism in its stress on the unobservable and unmeasurable phenomena and believes that often these unobservable structures produce observable effects. In contrast to constructivism that builds on the inter-subjective realm of understanding, norms, beliefs, ideas, interests, and perceptions, structuralism in international security context is based upon the physical and socio-cultural patterns, norms and values that determine the nature of security issues and their strategic implications. Though the significance of structural insecurity remains little appreciated, this concept has been debated by various scholars. For instance, the argument that under-development can breed and exacerbate conflict is a familiar theme as postulated by E.E. Azar who had earlier analysed Protracted Social Conflicts (PSC) as a product of the complex interplay among under-development, structural deprivation, ethnic or religious cleavages, and international linkages (Azar 1990: 129). At the same time, however, ‘successful development’ can also spur conflicts (Oishi 2005: 15–16). In this context, Mohammed Ayoob explained how arms flow reinforces the ‘structural dependence’ among the Third World countries and traced the roots of their regional conflicts substantially to the acts of omission

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and commission performed by the European colonial powers and superpowers whose strategies of conflict management and exacerbation were ‘aimed essentially at denying Third World countries the autonomy to define their own political, social and economic futures and the strategies by which they should be achieved’ (Ayoob 1980: 251–52). Eqbal Ahmad pointed to the failure of the post-colonial state to change its structure and to produce a new intelligentsia with a sense of responsibility toward the people (Ahmad 2000: 111–12). He talked about ‘Pathologies of Power’, referring to the irrational behaviour evidenced by the Third World politicians and institutions in power that implies a tendency to spawn conflict and insecurity (Ahmad 2000: 12–29). A very clear exposition of the salience of structured violence to explanation of conflicts and insecurity is offered by Johan Galtung in his two sets of syndromes—one structural, the other two cultural—PSPM (Penetration, Segmentation, Fragmentation, Marginalization), and CGT (Closeness, Glory, Trauma) and DMA (Dichotomy, Manichaeism, and Armageddon) syndromes (Galtung 2000: 6–9). Generally speaking, one could visualize structural roots of insecurity in at least five forms: social crime and violence (demography), identity conflict (culture), representation (election politics), clandestine alliances (diplomacy) and resource crisis (ecology).3 The overall security of a system could then be conceived and measured in terms of an aggregate Security Index, a sum total of various submeasures obtained by operationalizing the five dimensions. Overall, four characteristics of structural insecurity can be delineated: they are usually long-term in origin, impact and implications with frequently historic roots; the symptoms can take time in manifesting themselves; structural insecurities are mostly complex in their nature and hence demand a sophisticated approach; and, since such insecurities are multi-sectoral in nature, they have a large number of stakeholders in society and often, if left unresolved, are likely to recur with greater severity of impact in their future manifestations. If evidence is needed to substantiate the correlation of conflict and state’s security, it became clear in the ‘People’s War’ in Nepal. This also applies to India where at least eight states are reported to have been affected by the Naxalite insurgency. Globally, the damage done to people through structural violence (an outcome of structural

States in Crisis, Subalternity and Security Stakes 285

conflicts, crises, and insecurity) is said to far outweigh than that caused by behavioural violence. Often the conflict remains below the threshold of visibility as people fail to identify it as such. For instance, an Indian scholar, Bhabani Sen Gupta claimed that ‘there are no territorial or any other disputes between India and Nepal’ (Gupta 2000: 40) though there are many such as Kalapani and Susta to mention only two examples. Even the Human Development Report in South Asia 1999 failed to document the issue of Lhotsampa refugees (refuges of Bhutan) as a source of conflict. Alternatively, people may differ in their perceptions as is common between Indians and Pakistanis on Kashmir. At times, the significance of an issue of security or conflict is realized only when it is too late as in the case of global warming or water scarcity in the subcontinent or else because it is the concern of a small actor (sea rise in the Maldives) or state. The disaster that followed in Rwanda in 1994 after the failure of the United Nations (UN) to take appropriate steps to prevent the genocide despite early warnings is a classic reminder of the point.

Security Stakes and Stakeholders in the Region Essentially, conflict is kept at a minimum and the chances for better management and resolution of conflict improve when acceptability of the political system grows. But this depends upon the legitimacy of the political system and how it is perceived by the people. Legitimacy—perceived or real—in turn, will depend upon the overall way the various kinds of stakes of the key political actors are built into the electoral design, management, and practice—Identity (Ownership) stakes, Role stakes, Power stakes, Utility or Benefit stakes, Access stakes and Opportunity stakes. In designing an ideal system of management and resolution of conflict, care has to be taken, therefore, to consider whether it will entail all these six forms of stake-building. Ignoring them invites risks that may not appear initially, but are bound to emerge later in the form of crises. At a broader level and in a different perspective, the stakes can be conceived in terms of three dimensions—existential (or survival) stake, stake in democratization (procedural or means-related), and growth and developmental stakes (teleological or end-related).

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Security, including human security, is deemed to be a critical foundation for sustainable development and poverty and insecurity systematically tend to reinforce each other. The point hardly needs to be stressed that security is the first fundamental prerequisite to the achievement of any one of these goals. But who are the stakeholders in our analysis? What kinds of roles have they been playing so far? What kind of impact is their role going to make in the region’s new security agenda? Since stakes are not fixed and keep evolving, the concept of stake-holding itself needs to be reinvented for the security agenda in a dynamic framework. Seen thus, the process of security building in the region would include a fairly wide range of actors. The status of the stakeholders can be analysed at two different levels—Primary and Secondary, depending upon the nature of stakes and the roles, too, may be divided in terms of strong and weak. Strengthening the roles can mean creating or reshaping the stakes in certain cases and revitalizing them in other groups. This is so because stakes are not readymade and rigid. They keep evolving, grow or decline, and change in the course of time. Stakes, moreover, may be both shared and denied. When stakes are shared, they can make a great difference in the effectiveness of the roles through the resulting synergy. But when spoilers start to play their role, they may be in a position to deny certain stakes, sabotaging the security agenda itself. The deficit in security stake-holding that South Asia as a region shows could be an outcome of ill-defined and poorly perceived stakes or it could be mismanaged roles, or both.

SETTING A NEW SECURITY AGENDA The discussion so far offers the background to propose a three-track strategy to restructure the role and perception of security in the region. The strategy bases itself on the new role of people involved actively in reformulating the traditional function and impact of security in a way that holistically takes up the issue and restructures the processes of democratization, development and national solidarity, to optimize their momentum but without undermining the overall role of the state. The link between political and economic security

States in Crisis, Subalternity and Security Stakes 287

has already been cogently stressed in the Amartya Sen’s thesis on famines that holds entitlement (the political dimension of the famine problem) as the crux of the issue to ensure that famine (the economic dimension) is prevented. Amartya Sen explains his thesis in terms of Food Availability Decline (FAD) rather than decline in the production of food itself (Sen 1999: 1–8). After all, if security is a multisectoral phenomenon, any meaningful approach to insecurity must also adopt multisectoral measures. This means a new approach to the nations’ defence planning which consolidates individual human security and strengthens the overall societal and community security. The idea is to add the role of the public at large (Track Three) to Track Two (professional) and the traditional role of the government and the state (Track One). This will mean involving people and different sets of actors in various ways. Among these three tracks, Track One is statist, that is, state-centric which follows the conventional Westphalian approach. The second one is elitistic in that it depends on the support of mid-level professionals that started after the end of the two World Wars and the growth of regionalism. The third one puts people at the centre whose rationale is based on the view that an approach to security based solely on the rulers or government (Track One) and the elite (Track Two) may not be enough. Subrata K. Mitra makes it a point to note the emergence of a new social class of activist mediators from the upper and middle class in their social origin who identify themselves with the lower orders of society (Mitra 2000: 665). Tapan Bose presents the other side of the picture claiming that when they tried to do something for peace between India and Pakistan, the greatest opposition came from the official people of the two states (Bose 2003: 110). Actually, reservation on the attitude of the elite has been a moot issue with a number of observers. Rajni Kothari, for one, assails the elite that has emerged in India for following the capitalist path and for following those in command of the global framework in the course of criticizing a certain mindset that ‘looks upon the millions of people as a hurdle’, as the consequence of a doctrinaire shift from prosperity for all as a goal of development toward stability and law and order as a framework of security. Such elites are presumed to be having second thoughts about the concept of a positive state as the principal agent of change in society and combines repressive, divisive, co-optive and

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diversionary tactics that, Kothari claims, threatens people’s action and movement today (Kothari 1990: 400, 416). In a scathing criticism of the middle class attitudes, Pavan K. Varma criticizes the policy of economic liberalization that he claims has provided an excuse to blatantly separate its world from the vast masses of the destitute and deprived (Varma 1998: 181–86). All this offers the rationale for the Track Three Approach, which has been differentiated more clearly in Table 12.2. Table 12.2 Three Approaches to Security Track One State-Based

Track Two Elite-Based

Track Three People-Based

Elite Mobilization

Masses Participation

Mid-term Diplomatic, Professional Patronistic Partially open Delegated Oligarchy

Long-term MultiSectoral Democratic Transparent Decentralized Pluralism

19. Efficiency in Resource Use

Rulers Command (Top-down) Short-term Political, Military, Diplomatic Authoritarian Closed Centralized Hegemony, Monopoly Low

High

10. Number of Networks 11. Social Capital (Trust)

Few Very low

Low to Medium Growing Low

11. Population Involved 12. Strategy for Action 13. Time Dimension 14. Sectors Involved 15. 16. 17. 18.

Nature of Mechanism Level of Transparency Nature of Decision-Making Nature of Regime

Large Medium to High

Source: Author.

This, however, will demand a new role for the civil society organizations (CSOs). Indeed, the challenge of enabling the people at the grassroots level lies at the centre of contemporary debates. Rupesinghe notes that ‘although wars are often fought in the name of particular groups, and civilian population is the most affected by the violence, their participation in resolving conflicts and restoring peace has often been limited or ignored. Yet citizen peacemakers can be and are an immensely powerful constituency’ (Rupesinghe 1998: 120). Supporting that observation is the role played by the clan elders in Somalia, the ‘Peace Now’ group in Israel, as also the community-based actors in Northern Ireland working to bridge sectarian divisions and for bringing peace. No less remarkable was the stand taken by the rural

States in Crisis, Subalternity and Security Stakes 289

villages, schools and universities in the Philippines against the army and rebel forces during the 1980s by declaring peace zones and peace corridors and by people’s organizations representing various social sectors (peasants, urban workers and others) to formulate an acceptable peace agenda outside the realms of state politics, which exceeded the conventional expectations (Ibid.). In India itself, Sundeep Waslekar notes the eminent role played by Mohalla Committees started in 1988–89 in bringing about peace in Bhiwandi, long notorious for communal riots, the Ralegan Siddhi Experiment of Maharashtra initiated by Anna Hazare in 1975 and the Swadhyay model of social movement launched in the 1960s by Pandurung Shashtri Athavale that now extends to fourteen Indian states as well as the Pani Panchayats in Bihar. All this gives hope for a much larger role to be played by the ordinary citizens in working for security and peace at a local level (Waslekar 1998: 156–66). This may appear to be a tall order even for the educated intelligentsia, leave aside the marginalized, the poor and illiterate, and the vulnerable segments of the population in most of the countries in the region. However, it may become a feasible proposition once the first few steps are taken in the right direction and, of course, with the passage of time. The recourse taken to the masses in the context of constitutional restructuring in South Africa in the mid-1990s is revealing and instructive in this context. A strategic framework to accomplish the task would call for the inclusion of five specific approaches: Empowerment Focussing on enhancing the security competence of individual citizens and group targets at the local and community levels through increased comprehension, improved orientation and upgrading of security skills. Mainstreaming Targeting the young generation, women, and disadvantaged groups in an inclusive framework, particularly those vulnerable to various forms of conflict and violence or abuse and the consequent insecurity or the one resulting from discrimination, destitution, deprivation and disablement.

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Reinforcement Strengthening periodically the role of the key security stakeholders, for instance, of the defence and police personnel, by consolidating and improving their security vision and perception, their policy orientation and goals, and strategies as well as their organizational and decision-making skills. Networking Linkaging and coordinating the roles of the various stakeholders at the various levels—local, national, regional and global—to accelerate proactive communication, creative interaction and productive collaboration for sustained flow and meaningful use of the security resources in-between them. Synergizing Bonding the security policies, planning, and programmes with other existing initiatives in the field such as civic education, informal or distance education and social mobilization at home and abroad to produce the needed spin-off impact. All of this, again, may appear overtly ambitious and difficult to materialize at first. To start with, some of these approaches could be selected on an experimental basis to be applied in specific areas and, depending on the outcome could then be modified and developed for broader application.

STRATEGIC TRIAD The discussion so far offers the background to propose a triadic approach to expedite the pace of the region’s security agenda. It is triadic in the sense that it consists of three components—Participation, Approach and Dimensions. The Participation component demands a three track strategy of involving the government, professionals and people at the community level. Approach-wise, apart from the conventional punitive (remedial) and preventive (proactive) approaches, more positive steps are suggested. And, in terms of dimensions—defence, democracy and development (3Ds)—each

States in Crisis, Subalternity and Security Stakes 291

must be stressed to harmonize progress since they reinforce each other. Recalling the 15 programmes that Johan Galtung lists in making the people partners in peace education, a similar comprehensive approach to security education would be worth the effort (Galtung 2000: Module X: 2). One may also add to it the temporal aspect that calls for learning from the best practices and lessons from the past to design future policies and plans. Activating the strategic triad can be followed by initiating concrete Security Building Measures (SBM) mentioned at the end of Section Two which could be operationalized at a number of levels. There was little place in the post-war political order for the measures proposed here and its possible contribution in the nations’ overall security. Civic inputs on security, however, have become essential today, because they can make the difference between social amity and ethnic enmity as well as between the sanctity of social peace and the ugliness of unbridled sprees of violence characteristic of the contemporary South Asian societies. If security is to become a shared success between the state and its people, civic education in security must take up its role, because a rational world order can be based only upon a rational national, social and family order. That reminds one of the yawning gap in the curricula of the South Asian universities to which various scholars have drawn attention to: the absence of peace and conflict management resolution studies of most of the institutions in the region. For instance, Mubashir Hasan stresses the need to reorient and redefine the concept of nationalism so that it no longer breeds parochialism and bigotry among the various ethnic and religious groups which are the source of most conflicts and political violence in the region (Hasan 1994: 63). Finally, civic education in security is essential because germinating the right kinds of identities and forming the security psychology of the individual citizen’s self in the appropriate way can be expected to forestall the myriad mutinies that now threaten the subcontinent in the rising chorus of ethnic rebellions by transmuting primitive tribal loyalties and the crude edges of aggressive nationalism. The ultimate challenge before the civil security planners and citizenship educators in South Asia will, thus, lie in sustaining the process till the vision of democracy, the principles of peace, and the values of human security become—for both the educated elite and the masses—habits of both

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the heart and the mind. But all this will also demand strong sustained efforts in translating war’s absence into a robust life mode of peace. The point deserves mention because the absence of full-fledged inter-state conventional war in South Asia for over three decades has not translated into peace. At best, it has been a negative peace, a condition of non-resistance or even acquiescence enforced by legal arrangements and military might, often a despotic rather than democratic peace that engenders only a false sense of security, not positive security that sustains the process of democratization or the peace of growth and development. Such a peace is certainly not what we need in the region, but one wherein ‘exploitation is minimized or eliminated and in which there is neither overt violence nor the more subtle phenomenon of underlying structural violence’ (Barash and Webel 2002: 6). The failure of the last half of the twentieth century to institutionalize peace is what offers a profound opportunity in this century. It will be quite a task to reformulate the existing time-warped framework on security that dominates the minds of the decision-makers and persuade the people to recondition themselves accordingly. But, as far as guaranteeing the key stakes involved in the security of the region is concerned—making the survival of the nation-states in the region safe and secure, deepening and broadening the pace of democratization and accelerating the pace of development—what else could be half as important?

Acknowledgements The author gratefully acknowledges the comments forwarded by Navnita Chadha Behera and the timely help made available in the course of preparation of this draft by J. K. Tater, Prashu R. Ghimire, Mona Aditya, and Prakash Rai.

ENDNOTES 1. (Gareth Evans cited by Ibrahim 2003: 154). For details, see also three other contributions and comments on the theme of cooperative security by Satish

States in Crisis, Subalternity and Security Stakes 293 Nambiar, Moonis Ahmar and Beate Maeder-Metcalf in the same volume (pp. 165–76, 177, 190, 205–208). While integrated security combines both state (territorial and sovereignty) security and human security, one key difference between the two elements is that while state security demands investment in arms, human security demands investment in people. That Costa Rica which has demilitarized itself spending one-third of its national income on education and health is the only prosperous democracy in Central America suggests not just that peace and human development are inextricably linked but also that human security can play a substantial role in the nation’s prosperity. The new concept of holistic security includes the approach taken by the ILO’s People’s Security Surveys (PSS) started in 2000 as a household survey programme of its In Focus Programme on Socioeconomic Security, an initiative ‘driven by a desire to learn from the voices of people about their securities and insecurities in work and life so as to ensure that policy formulation could take account of people’s experiences and views’. It entailed 8 forms of socio-economic insecurity—Basic security, Income security, Labour Market security, Employment security, Work security, Job security, Skills reproduction security and Representation security (pp. 310–12). 2. Times of India, August 30, 2003, p.13. In this context, it is interesting to note that piracy and armed robbery in South Asian waters grew dramatically recently from no attacks in 1991 to 31 in 1997. Both India and Sri Lanka had the dubious distinction of being two of the 6 states which shared the largest number of such attacks worldwide (Roy-Chaudhury 2000). 3. The constraint of space does not allow extended discussion here on each of these themes, but suffice it to mention that on two specific aspects— election politics and clandestine alliances—the author has elaborated elsewhere his viewpoints on how these factors impact on conflicts. See (Aditya 1993: 1–15 and 1996: 69–93).

BIBLIOGRAPHY Aditya, Anand. 1993. ‘From Nuremberg to New York: Clandestine Covenants and the Changing Role of Force in the Postwar Transition of Treaties’, Nepali Political Science and Politics, 2: 1–6. Kathmandu: POLSAN. ————–. 1996. ‘Shifting Votes in a Multipolar Electorate: A Study of the Survival Regimes in Nepal and Strategies for Sustainable Governance’, Nepali Political Science and Politics, 5: 39–48. Kathmandu: POLSAN. Ahmad, Eqbal. 2000. Confronting Empire: Interviews with David Barsamiam. London: Pluto Press. Apter, David. 1981. Introduction to Political Analysis. New Delhi: Prentice-Hall of India Pvt. Ltd.

294 Anand Aditya Ayoob, Mohammed (ed.). 1980. Conflict and Intervention in the Third World. New Delhi: Vikas Publishing House. Azar, Edward E. 1990. The Management of Protracted Social Conflict: Theory and Cases. Aldershot: Dartmouth Publishing. Barash, David P. and Charls P. Webel. 2002. Peace and Conflict Studies. London: Sage Publications. Bose, Tapan K. 2003. ‘Comments in the Course of Floor Discussion’, in Deepak Gajurel (ed.), Security and Cooperation in South Asia, in Spotlight Weekly (Kathmandu). Boulding, Kenneth. 1986. ‘Confession of Roots’, International Studies Notes, 12(2): 31–33. Buzan, Barry. 1997. ‘Changing Conception of Security in the Third World’, Third World Quarterly, 32(1): 5–28. Galtung, Johan. 2000. Conflict Transformation by Peaceful Means (The Transcend Method). Geneva: United Nations (Participant’s Manual/Trainer’s Manual available from UN Disaster Management Training Programme). Gupta, Bhabani Sen. 1985. ‘Changing Patterns of Conflict in South Asia’, Asian Perspective (A Biannual Journal of Regional & International Affairs), 9(2): 222–41. ————–. 2000. ‘Conflict Resolution in South Asia’, in V.A. Pai Panandiker and Navanita Chadha Behera (eds), Perspectives on South Asia. Delhi: Konark Publishers. Haq, Mahbub ul. 1999. ‘New Imperatives of Human Security’, Reflections on Human Development. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Hasan, Mubasir. 1994. ‘On a new vision for South Asia’, South Asian Regional Dialogue, South Asian Vision and Perspective. Lahore: Mubashir Hasan. Holsti, K.J. 1981. International Politics: A Framework for Analysis. New Delhi: Prentice-Hall of India Pvt. Ltd. Ibrahim, Syed Muhammad. 2003. ‘Cooperative Security Framework for South Asia’, in Dipankar Banerjee and Gert W. Kueck (eds), South Asia and the War on Terrorism: Analyzing the Implications of 11 September. Colombo: Regional Centre for Strategic Studies and New Delhi: Konrad Adenauer Stiftung. Kothari, Rajni. 1990. Politics and People: In Search of a Humane India, 2nd Edition. Vol. II. Delhi. Ajanta Publications. Mahbub ul Haq Human Development Center. 1999. Human Development in South Asia. 1999. Karachi. Mitra, Subrata K. 2000. ‘Politics in India’, in Gabriel A. Almond, G. Bingham Powell Jr., Kaare Strom, and Russell J. Dalton (eds) Comparative Politics Today: A Worldview. Delhi: Pearson Education Asia. Nielsen, Kai. 1988. ‘World Government, Security, and Global Justice,’ in Steven Luper Foi (ed.), Problems of International Justice. Boulder: Westview. OECD. 2001. The DAC Guidelines Helping Prevent Violent Conflict. Paris: OECD. Oishi, Mikio. 2005. Conflict and Development-Related Conflicts in Asia and Role of NGOs. Kathmandu: NASO.

States in Crisis, Subalternity and Security Stakes 295 Pettiford, Lloyd. 1996. ‘Changing Conceptions of Security in the Third World’, Third World Quarterly, 17(2): 289–306. Pye, Lucian W. 1996. Aspects of Political Development. New Delhi: Amerind Publishing Co. Renner, Michael. 1999. ‘Ending Violent Conflict’, in Lester R. Brown, Christopher Flavin and Hillary French (eds), State of the World 1999. New York: W.W. Norton & Co. Roy-Chaudhury, Rahul. 2000. India’s Maritime Security. New Delhi: IDSA. Rupesinghe, Kumar with Sanam N. Anderlini. 1998. Civil Wars, Civil Peace: An Introduction to Conflict Resolution. London: Pluto Press. SAAPE (South Asia Alliance for Poverty Eradication). 2003. Poverty in South Asia 2003. Kathmandu: SAAPE. Sen, Amartya. 1999. Poverty and Famines: An Essay on Entitlement and Deprivation. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Shaah, Aqil. 2001. ‘South Asia’, in Robin Hodess (ed.), Global Corruption Report 2001. Berlin: Transparency International. Singh, Jasjit. 1995. ‘Perspectives on South Asian Security’, in Sankar Ghosh and Somen Mukherjee (eds), Emerging South Asian Order: Hopes and Concerns. Kolkata: Media South Asia. Stone, Deborah. 1988. Policy Paradox and Political Reason. USA: HarperCollins. UNDP. 1999. The Human Development Report 1999. New York. ————–. 2002. The Human Development Report 2002. New York. Varma, Pavan K. 1998. The Great Indian Middle Class. New Delhi: Viking. Waslekar, Sundeep. 1998. Dharma Rajya: Path-Breaking Reforms for India’s Governance. Delhi: Konark.

13 A Critique of Contemporary Liberal IR Theory from a South Asian Standpoint A.K. Ramakrishnan

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his chapter attempts to critique contemporary liberal theory of International Relations (IR) by focussing on liberal institutionalism and neoliberalism. The focus on institutions and the prevalence of a mix of prescriptive realism and ideas of liberal interdependence in liberal institutionalism on the one hand and the preoccupation with non-state actors such as markets in the neoliberal approach on the other resulted in the neglect of major internal and international political aspects in these genres of IR theory. The kind of IR theorizing that moves away from the central political concerns of the democratic state as exemplified by these views of liberalism is to be critically examined, given the experience of the Third World in general, and South Asia in particular, with international institutions and market-led neoliberal transformation. There is need to address the dichotomy between liberal claims as a ‘liberating force’ and its function as a ‘bulwark of established order’ (Richardson 1997: 14). A critical analysis of contemporary liberal IR theory has to be undertaken by accounting for not only the daily life implications of the hegemonic liberal international dis(order) on South Asian people, but also the modes of resistance to such a hegemony offered by various movements in the region. This chapter just provides a few pointers towards the critique of dominant approaches of liberal IR theory from a South Asian standpoint. The contemporary international scene is dominated by an array of political and economic phenomena such as the use of force to pursue national interests by hegemonic actors, the political and security challenge to state actors from non-state entities, the so-called globalization and the ascendancy of market forces, and the evolution

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and contested existence of international institutional mechanisms like the World Trade Organization (WTO). Conventional realist and liberal theories of IR could not provide satisfactory explanations for these varied international developments (Ramakrishnan 2003). The triumphalist comeback of liberal internationalism in the immediate post-Cold War period provided an explanation only partially for the non-state, market-dominated realm of international relations. While the realists can explain war and militarization in the contemporary situation, the global economic and social transformation escapes their analysis. In this context, one is tempted to look at the liberal institutionalist approach for some satisfactory explanations, as there is a realist-liberal synthesis in this approach. Historically, liberal internationalism has been the approach that informed the very institutionalization of the academic study of international relations and the Wilsonian kind of liberal internationalism formed the intellectual and pragmatic contour in which international relations was approached in the 1920s.The criticisms from Carr and others on the one hand and the very turn of world events towards economic depression and war discredited the liberal internationalist approach in the 1930s and 1940s. In the post-war realist and positivist era of theorizing in IR, which by then assumed the shape of an academic discipline, the liberals tried to stage a comeback by moving away from normative idealism to pragmatic positivism in the 1960s and 1970s. The theories of interdependence, integration and complex interdependence of Keohane, Nye, etc., became its new face by the 1980s. The institutionalist argument of this juncture, along with the positivist tradition in general in the liberal fold, made one wonder whether it is liberalism at all. In the context of post-positivist challenges to traditional IR theories of the positivist mould, and in the period of the massive unleashing of what is called globalization as a process and phenomenon, the comeback of liberalism in IR in the 1990s was in the form of neoliberal globalism. For many, the emergence of the institutionalist approach was a great relief from typical state-centric realism and structural realism. Did the liberal institutionalists provide satisfactory explanations for at least a few major IR concerns? Generally speaking, liberal institutionalism envisages the advancement of international cooperation and peace through the functioning

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of a network of international institutions in specialized fields (Richardson 2001: 75). The liberal institutionalists believe, according to Zacher and Matthew, ‘institutions enhance cooperation by improving the quality of information, reducing transaction costs, facilitating tradeoffs among issue areas, facilitating enforcement of accords, and enhancing states’ ethical concerns’ (1995: 136). As Keohane puts it, ‘since international institutions, rules, and patterns of cooperation can affect calculations of interest, and can also be affected incrementally by contemporary political action, they provide a natural focus for scholarly attention as well as policy concern’ (1986: 199). Institutions affect the ways of states defining their preferences (Hoffmann 1998: 78). They produce an efficiency effect on state behaviour by promoting reciprocity through sharing of information on others’ behaviour and choices and thus reducing transaction costs of arriving at and of maintaining agreements (Martin 1999: 81). Krasner provides a two-dimensional approach to institutions based on institutionalization and persistence/durability (1999: 56). These two aspects correspond to conformity of behaviour to institutional structures with their norms and rules on the one hand and to the ability of such norms and rules to survive under changing circumstances on the other. John Gerard Ruggie’s work emphasized substantially on the institutionalization dimension. The channelling of behaviour in a particular direction rather than in different ones in itself is treated by him as an advantage that results from institutionalization (1998: 2). A critique of liberal IR theory from South Asian standpoint needs to take stock of the major shades of existing critiques of the liberal approach from a variety of standpoints. Let us first look at some critical points. The system-supporting, conservative character of liberalism in general, and liberal institutionalism and neoliberalism in particular, has been brought out by a number of observers. Falk (1987) criticized the liberals for possessing a paternalistic attitude. The liberals consider the better-offs in society duty bound to improving the conditions of the have-nots, to provide moral leadership, and to ‘contribute to anti-revolutionary goals of stability’ (1987: 185). The agreements underpinning the liberal and conservative viewpoints

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are also brought forth by him (Ibid.: 184–87). This aspect of liberalism is examined by Wallerstein (1995) by bringing in the divergence between liberalism and democracy: Liberalism was always an aristocratic doctrine, it preached the ‘rule of the best’. . . . But the best were always a group smaller than the whole. Liberals wanted rule by the best—aristocracy—precisely in order not to have rule by the whole—democracy. Democracy was the objective of the radicals, not of the liberals; or at least it was the objective of those who were truly radical, truly antisystemic. It was to prevent this group from prevailing that liberalism was put forward as an ideology. (Wallerstein 1995: 257)

The conservatism of the core proponents of neoliberalism needs to be noted. Hayek’s passage through ideas of spontaneous order and evolutionary arguments shows a definitive belief in market order. The norms of private property and market order form the bedrock of Hayek’s and Friedman’s liberalisms (Gamble 1996; Gray 1998). The institutionalists’ emphasis on the role of regimes and institutions in the given order of things need to be critiqued along two lines. The ‘capitalist “cooperation” of current international regimes constricts domestic political options’ (Gilbert 1999: 52). The limits of political action in the domestic sphere affect both state and nonstate actors. The institutionalists’ ‘endorsement of established institutions’ internationally denotes their conservative, status quoist normative standpoint (Richardson 2001: 76–77). This limit-setting character of liberal institutionalism goes against the claims of wide range of preferences of international actors that are sought to be made by liberal IR theory in general. Wendt and Duvall (1989) point out that the institutionalist approach is basically a ‘choice-theoretic project’ that perceives institutions and order through the lens of ‘already constituted state actors’: International institutions, regimes, and order exist in so far as they are consciously chosen to serve the interests of the fundamental units of the system, states. International order, then, is constructed or constituted by preexisting state actors, rather than constitutive of them. (Wendt and Duvall 1989: 55)

Criticisms of liberal institutionalism are also related to the liberalrealist intersection. Grieco (1993) argues that liberal institutionalism

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does not succeed in challenging realism in IR to a great extent. On the other hand, Moravcsik says that the institutional argument is more realist than liberal (1997: 536). The debate between structural realists and liberal institutionalists, the so-called neorealist-neoliberal debate that occurred more than a decade and a half ago (Baldwin 1993), highlighted the institutional realm of international relations and brought forth the divergence and a high level of convergence of contemporary realist and liberal approaches. But the debate did not succeed much in providing a broad-based IR theoretical encounter. As Sullivan succinctly puts it, this debate, while consuming a large quantity of energy, was producing ‘a questionable heat-to-light ratio’ (2001: 228–29). The critique of liberal institutionalism by Long (2002) has generated some exchange of ideas (Hovden and Keene 2002). To Long, the Harvard School of liberal IR theory represented by Keohane and Moravcsik is ‘a case for closure’; Keohane’s institutionalism is ‘an emasculated liberalism, shorn of its normative concerns with the liberty and well-being of individuals’ (2002: 42). The critique of moral deficit in liberal institutionalism is answered by Keohane by stressing on the normative content of his kind of liberalism. To him, ‘the strength of liberalism as moral theory lies in its attention to how alternative governing arrangements will operate in practice’ (2002: 32). What plagues the liberal project is its attempt to bring order, peace and prosperity, as Mayall (2000) states, ‘not so much by effort as by rules, procedures, institutions, and underpinning them all by correct application of liberal precepts’. This undermining of willed human effort by liberals amounts to seeking ‘a mechanical—built-in— technological solution to human problems’ (2000: 104). The democratic implications of neoliberalism remain highly problematic. The liberal claims of a regime of equal rights and, at the same time, the unwillingness, particularly in neoliberalism, to address global inequity, expose the democratic liberal arguments of various kinds to the core. The ‘double-sided process’ of democratization that involves ‘deepening democracy within a national community’ and across national borders cannot be conceived without envisaging organic state intervention and state-civil society interaction (Held 2000: 164). Such a nation-state realm of politics is not what the neoliberals want to operate within.

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The extent to which South Asian states’ preferences and modes of their domestic and international behaviour are shaped by international institutions needs to be studied by the IR community. The effects on state behaviour that are induced by the function of international institutions such as the World Trade Organization are now in the public realm for scrutiny. While a realm of hegemonic cooperation through such an institutional mechanism is forthcoming internationally, the states’ ability to link their domestic sphere to the international is characterized and constrained by the extremely significant international economic and political asymmetry. While better-off sections of South Asian societies have obtained more liberal and beneficial global linkages to their advantage, the majority of the region’s population has to confront the illiberal negative implications of global linkages on a day-to-day basis. The international institutional mechanisms of the WTO kind signify the evolution of what is called a ‘new constitutionalism’ of ‘disciplinary neoliberalism’ (Gill 2002). State actors function as active participants and agents in not only developing and legitimating the new legal regime of international capital, but also in enacting such a legal order within their national spheres. This legitimacy that global capital’s hegemony gains through state action is one of the major consequences of the liberal institutionalization process of the current juncture. Since liberalism in general and liberal internationalism and neoliberalism in particular do not address questions of global structural unevenness and inequity, the agency of movements is compelled to raise such pertinent questions internally and internationally. As these systemic inequities have direct effects on people’s lives in our midst, an important point of departure for IR theorizing could be the sites of peoples’ struggles in response to global changes. I have attempted in an earlier piece to examine how farmers’ and fish workers’ movements in India critique neoliberal globalism of the contemporary sort (Ramakrishnan 2002). Peoples’ movements in South Asia show an increasing scepticism towards international institutional and non-state solutions to their everyday issues. Most movements in themselves are not viewed as solutions, but as vehicles for achieving results. Politically this means a significant expectation from the state and constant challenges to

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the state to change its ways when people find it not delivering things that are important to them. The low level of confidence of ordinary people in international institutions is a reflection, therefore, of the still dearly-held belief in the provider state. The neoliberal circumstances are not conducive for such a state to function in full measure. The crisis of legitimacy that many South Asian states face is in a large measure due to this incompatibility of the provider state with neoliberal institutional arrangements of the contemporary kind. The farmers’ struggle, particularly that of the Karnataka Rajya Raitha Sangha (KRRS), was focussing on the way new institutions like the WTO formed from the relatively loose General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT) has been defining and trying to implement property rights in the realm of seeds and other spheres of agriculture based on an individual-centric approach. The harm liberal institutions of the WTO type can cause was forewarned by KRRS in the early 1990s when the Dunkel Draft was discussed in the Uruguay Round of GATT negotiations. Late Professor Nanjudaswamy, the leader of KRRS, said that farmers ‘insist on a free exchange of seed and knowledge across the globe, boycotting and bypassing the enclosures, the landlords, the controllers of a biodiversity, which belongs to the people’ (Seabrook 1995: 77). The movement views the liberal institutional mechanism as promoters of ‘enclosures’, rather than pursuers of free flow of information, knowledge and rights. The Narmada struggle was faced with the involvement of the World Bank in the dam project. In order to keep the World Bank out of the destructive mega project, a network spanning different levels has to be established by the movement. As Medha Patkar, the leader of the Narmada Bachao Andolan puts it, ‘to shake the World Bank from its rigidity I had to seek the support of international groups. . . . From the strictly local level I had to move to the national and then to the international level’ (Patkar 1992: 295). In the case of most new movements in India, including the farmers’ and the Narmada struggles, their internationalization was in opposition to liberal and neoliberal institutions that favour new avenues of profit and company gains. They, at the same time, were in favour of a more liberal, but just, global order of things. The fish workers’ movement was also, to a great extent, a critical response to the limits imposed by international liberal institutionalist

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development agenda, and it was also seeking an alternate internationalization in movement terms. The fish workers’ struggle that started in Kerala has been trying to protect the fishing rights and marine environment by critically focussing on, and struggling against, mechanized industrial fishing and transnational agencies which try to commercially exploit marine resources without any regard for the sustainability and reproduction of marine life. International institutional arrangements such as the Food and Agricultural Organisation(FAO) of the United Nations along with the Norwegian Government were involved in seeing that industrial fishing is undertaken without regard to the interests of artisan fisherfolk and the coastal and marine environment (Alex 2002). The National Fish workers’ Forum (NFF) has been in the forefront of struggles against liberal and neoliberal global actors which were unmindful of local life and eco-systems. In the 1990s, the NFF has been trying to see that the entry of transnational companies directly or through joint ventures is blocked. The fish workers’ movement has been able to raise substantial sustainability issues over a considerable period of time. The attempt at internationalization of the movement, particularly by forming the World Fish workers’ Forum (WFF), was due to the necessity of evolving coordinated efforts to confront the neoliberal hold over things in the fisheries field. In short, the way farmers’, fish workers’ and other peoples’ movements from South Asia and elsewhere in the Third World talk liberalism to international liberal institutions like WTO, is an interesting point to note from an IR perspective. By demanding the offsetting of global structural inequity, particularly in the market sphere through state intervention in domestic markets, and by asking for more freer international trade through the removal of trade barriers in the advanced capitalist markets, a host of these movements envisage a more active role for the state in a direction opposite to what neoliberalism prescribe. Some of these South Asian and Third World movements in a way project a Hobsonian liberal internationalism with their critique of imperialism. The limits and potentials of such movements are becoming more and more visible now. Placing the primacy of politics in our IR theoretical endeavours in these neoliberal times in itself is an exercise worth pursuing. I am sure that there can be no stable South Asian standpoint to critique

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current global order of things. The ever-reconfiguring but contextual sites of political struggles offer fresh and newer challenges for theory building in IR.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Alex, George K. 2002. New Social Movements and International Relations Theory: A Study of Linkages. Ph.D. Thesis. Kottayam: Mahatma Gandhi University. Baldwin, David A. (ed.) 1993. Neorealism and Neoliberalism: The Contemporary Debate. New York: Columbia University Press. Falk, Richard. 1987. The Promise of World Order: Essays in Normative International Relations. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Gamble, Andrew. 1996. Hayek: The Iron Cage of Liberty. Boulder, Colorado: Westview Press. Gilbert, Alan. 1999. Must Global Politics Constrain Democracy? Princeton: Princeton University Press. Gill, Stephen. 2002. ‘Globalization, Market Civilization and Disciplinary Neoliberalism’, in Eivind Hovden and Edward Keene (eds), The Globalization of Liberalism. London: Palgrave/Macmillan in association with Millennium-Journal of International Studies. Gray, John. 1998. Hayek on Liberty, 3rd edn. London and New York: Routledge. Grieco, Joseph M. 1993. ‘Understanding the Problem of International Cooperation: The Limits of Neoliberal Institutionalism and the Future of Realist Theory’, in David A. Baldwin (ed.), Neorealism and Neoliberalism: The Contemporary Debate. New York: Columbia University Press. Held, David. 2000. ‘Markets, Private Property, and the Possibility of Democracy’, in Paul Wapner and Lester Edwin J. Ruiz (eds), Principled World Politics: The Challenge of Normative International Relations. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers. Hoffmann, Stanley. 1998. World Disorders: Troubled Peace in the Post-Cold War Era. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers. Hovden, Eivind and Edward Keene (eds). 2002. The Globalization of Liberalism. London: Palgrave/Macmillan in association with Millennium-Journal of International Studies. Keohane, Robert O. 1984. After Hegemony: Cooperation and Discord in World Political Economy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. ————–. 1986. ‘Theory of World Politics: Structural Realism and Beyond’, in Robert O. Keohane (ed.), Neorealism and its Critics. New York: Columbia University Press. ————–. 2002. ‘Moral Commitment and Liberal Approach to World Politics’, in Eivind Hovden and Edward Keene (eds), The Globalization of Liberalism. London: Palgrave/Macmillan in association with Millennium-Journal of International Studies.

A Critique of Contemporary Liberal IR Theory 305 Krasner, Stephen D. 1999. Sovereignty: Organized Hypocrisy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Long, David. 1996. Towards a New Liberal Internationalism: International Theory of J.A. Hobson. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ————–. 2002. ‘The Harvard School of Liberal International Theory: A Case of Closure’, in Eivind Hovden and Edward Keene(eds), The Globalization of Liberalism. London: Palgrave/Macmillan in association with Millennium-Journal of International Studies. Martin, Lisa L. 1999. ‘An Institutionalist View: International Institutions and State Strategies’, in T.V. Paul and John A. Hall (eds), International Order and the Future of World Politics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mayall, James. 2000. World Politics: Progress and its Limits. Cambridge: Polity Press. Moravcsik, Andrew. 1997. ‘Taking Preferences Seriously: A Liberal Theory of International Politics’, International Organization, 51(4): 513–53. Patkar, Medha. 1992. ‘The Strength of a People’s Movement’, in Geeti Sen (ed.), Indigenous Vision: Peoples of India, Attitudes to the Environment. New Delhi: Sage Publications. Ramakrishnan, A.K. 2002. ‘Neoliberalism, Globalization and Resistance: The Case of India’, in Eivind Hovden and Edward Keene (eds), The Globalization of Liberalism. London: Palgrave/Macmillan in association with Millennium-Journal of International Studies. ————–. 2003. ‘The Politics of US Led War in Afghanistan: An International Perspective’, in G. Gopa Kumar (ed.), International Terrorism and Global Order in the 21st Century. New Delhi: Kanishka Publishers. Richardson, James L. 1997. ‘Contending Liberalisms: Past and Present’, European Journal of International Relations, 3(1): 5–33. ————–. 2001. Contending Liberalisms in World Politics. Boulder: Lynne Rienner Publishers. Ruggie, John Gerard. 1998. Constructing the World Polity: Essays on International Institutionalization. London and New York: Routledge. Seabrook, Jeremy. 1995. Notes from Another India. London: Pluto Press. Sullivan, Michael P. 2001. Theories of International Relations: Transition vs. Persistence. New York: Palgrave. Wallerstein, Immanuel. 1995. After Liberalism. New York: The New Press. Walter, Andrew Wyatt. 1996. ‘Adam Smith and the Liberal Tradition in International Relations’, in Ian Clark and Iver B. Neumann (eds), Classical Theories of International Relations. Basingstoke: Macmillan. Wendt, Alexander and Raymond Duvall. 1989. ‘Institutions and International Order’, in Ernst-Otto Czempiel and James N. Rosenau (eds), Global Changes and Theoretical Challenges: Approach to World Politics in the 1990s. Lexington: Lexington Books. Zacher, Mark W. and Richard A. Matthew. 1995. ‘Liberal International Theory: Common Threads, Divergent Strands’, in C.W. Kegley Jr. (ed.), Controversies in International Relations Theory. New York: St. Martins.

14 Stripping Women, Securing the Sovereign ‘National’ Body The State of Exception in Everyday Life Mangalika de Silva

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his chapter looks at a particular configuration of relations of state and community relations in their complicit but hegemonic role as the sole moral and political authority to adjudicate upon questions of identity, political agency and national affiliation. By positing a relation of complicity, it seeks to contest and complicate the dominant idea of the state as repressive and instead locates the ‘productive effect’ of state practices such as strip searches and community compliance in everyday negotiations and collaborations between state and community. Productive effect does not simply mean techniques of ‘pure violence’ or ‘strict coercion’, but is enabled by contingent; processes of construction, authorization and modification of identity/subjectivity. Hegemonic state practices are also socially and culturally constituted. The modern subject emerges and is constituted in multiple regimes of power. Such enunciation and interpellation of gendered relations and identifications is possible in the interplay between everyday contingent encounters of the post-colonial state and community, the space of civil society, that closed association of modern elite groups, sequestered from the wider popular life of those excluded from modernity—‘criminals’, ‘marginals’ and ‘minorities’,— walled up as it is within enclaves of civic freedom and rational law (Chatterjee 2004: 18). The domains of the state and civil society are not mutually exclusive realms as Chatterjee assumes, but must be seen as inextricably intertwined and enmeshed in their reciprocal

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logics though they may often conflict against and even reconstitute each other in acrimonious and coercive ways. The Sri Lankan regime had adopted as its war of position, a ‘war for peace’ in the years since the breakdown of the truce with the Tamil Tigers in 1996. The state having suffered a series of military debacles in the northeast battlefront, was in a heightened state of responding to ‘Tamil terror’ with counter terror. Sriyalatha was neither a ‘contracting’ party to the ongoing ethnic conflict nor an armed fighter herself, but a woman from the edge of marginality who daily battled against the drudgery of insecurity when she inadvertently walked into the state of (military) security, (the High Security Zone, which encompassed the Temple Trees, the official residence of the President at the time) only to find herself stripped at gun point by the moral guardians of the emergency state. Sriyalatha was strip-searched by armed forces of the Sri Lankan state under conditions of ‘war for peace’. But Sriyalatha was waging a different kind of war; war against hunger and privation. She could not care less for the state of emergency in the capital or in the country. Sriyalatha worked as a sex worker. But she had ‘surreptitiously’ crossed the ‘dividing line’; stepping into the ‘hyper real’ zone where she did not belong. Violence against Sriyalatha was justified by invoking the rationality of ‘war for peace’. Like the post 9/11 ‘war against terror’, a ‘necessary’ and ‘justifiable’ war. Practices of civil society are incongruent with the prevalent mode of state rationality, especially when sovereignty and national security are threatened, externally and internally. This is not unique to the Sri Lankan state that has been under a state of emergency intermittently—officially and unofficially—for more than four decades. The specific historical experience of the nation-state lies in its political dependence on the state of emergency for arbitrary rule. Remarkably, the state has survived a series of insurgencies, by Marxist insurgents attempting to overthrow the state in 1971 and in 1987, and by secessionist Tamil rebels to establish a separate state encompassing the ethnic geographic regions of North and East since 1983. Such is the historically situated state of exception. Besieged with ethnic strife and class conflicts, that is, challenged by Tamil nationalism and a kind of ‘nationalist socialism’ from within, the Sri Lankan state came to increasingly rely on dominant

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categories and constructs of ethnicity, culture and territory to frame discourses on state sovereignty and national security. State power manifested itself overwhelmingly as military power and the state became effectively militarized. A whole new carceral security complex with punitive powers delegated to the penal arm of the state, the police, courts, detention centres and prisons emerged to police, control and contain spaces and places classified by the Sri Lankan security regime as ‘danger zones’, ‘cleared areas’, ‘uncleared areas’, ‘military controlled’, ‘LTTE controlled’, ‘government controlled’ and so on. What is explicit in these state security discourses and practices is that categories such as ‘ethnicity’ and ‘territory’ became overdetermined markers of identification. However, beneath and beyond these markers of identification and subsumed under state classifications of identity and security are binary cultural notions in all their ambiguity, plurality and multiplicity. They constitute what might be termed a ‘civilisational’ discourse of sovereignty; ‘son of the soil’/‘alien invader’, ‘foe/friend’, ‘purity’/ ‘impurity’, ‘respectable’/‘degenerate’, ‘bourgeois wife’/‘whore’, ‘good’/ ‘evil’ among others. These ideological norms and hegemonic forms of sociality inscribed notions of publicity, civility and security since they adhered to and not contravened the governing or governmentalized laws of the state security apparatus, thus consolidating not just the state’s punitive security regimes, but state-sponsored exclusion, minoritization and violence. If Sriyalatha as the margin is outside the ‘bounds of civilization’ (civilization as discursively defined by the state), she is exempt from any protection of universality and civilization (Butler 2002: 27). Given the state’s ‘insecurity’ and alleged, imagined or real threats to its ‘sovereignty’, it must inevitably militarize and penalize its margins: unclear and obscure spaces such as the bodies of those living in urban ghettos, particularly destitute women. The state racializes and militarizes security and calls for its ‘democratic’ validation by members of the majoritarian nation. Given the state’s territorial and ethnic fixation of identity, stigmatization and demonization of margins, peripheries and other locales that do not conform to but rather complexify the dominant logic of military security (meant to arbitrate exclusive ethnic enclaves), it must resolve the moral panic about ‘threats’ to its own security, veiled or real, by engulfing and devouring the space of the other or spaces

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‘othered’ by the edges of ethnicity and ethnic exclusion by bringing them under strict classification and surveillance. Perhaps in the state of ‘ordinary’ emergency, there is a furious preoccupation with power as legality is suspended to enable the military, the repressive state apparatus, the forces of ‘civility’ to restore ‘law’ and ‘order’. The infra political subject like the prostitute—that ‘trespasser’ who respects no bohemian or bourgeois ethnic segregation, is in effect a ‘dangerous’ and ‘infecting’ alterity like the hustler and the beggar who embody economic and class margins which are relentlessly policed and who always already personify potential or actual danger and thus are permanently vulnerable to penalization under militarized regimes of security. The Sri Lankan state’s divisive logic and hegemonic practice of military security is thus closely tangled though in harmony with the ostensibly ‘liberal democratic’ project of the state, namely its ‘democratic’ urge to modernize, secularize and socialize. Judith Butler has shown in the case of detention of ‘illegal enemy combatants’ in Guantanamo Bay, how (International) Law is soaked in bias towards the nation-state merely offering protection to its subjects (Ibid.: 21, my emphasis). As the existential predicament of Sriyalatha highlights, in the state of exception, even ‘bare protection’ is removed from certain individuals under specific historical and political conditions. Modernity and terror as a lived experience operate in tandem, a process that cuts through the bi-polar field of the sacred and the profane, the licit and the illicit, the religious and the secular, modifying and remodifying to meet the exigencies of specific historical and discursive conjunctures. Hence my claim that the state is infrastructural in relation to other existing networks of power, which invest the modern body, the recipient of forces of class, ethnicity, gender and sexuality. As Gramsci argued, the state is not merely an ideological projection, a symbolic shield for power, but a privileged site for struggle. Indeed, the Sri Lankan state’s (Weberian) super status as the legitimate wielder of techniques and instruments of torture and violence, its sole monopoly on means and methods of governmentality, have been infinitely undermined by non-state forces such as the LTTE. Still, the post-colonial state continues to act as if it is the sole arbitrator of thought, sensibilities, cultures and selves. The productive labour of the state obliges upon us a theory of the state implicated in

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complex relations of power, which render elusive and arbitrary its inclusive claims about equality and non-discrimination. In what form does violence in the state of exception manifest itself? In the case of Sriyalatha, state brutality and violence ranged from strip-search to sexual harassment, illegal arrest to physical assault in police custody and subsequent detention. She was subjected to terror, sexual and physical violence. There is a process of desubjectivization at work here. Sriyalatha is bereft of any protection with no claims to rights. She is not the subject of law, the citizen subject constituted by the nation-state. She is the subject of narrative, being her own witness to state discrimination and violence. The singularity of state violence against Sriyalatha is legitimate not only because the state is the sole wielder of instruments of violence, but the extraordinary nature of the armed insurrection justifies the terror with which it responds. This process of desubjectivization, depoliticization of Sriyalatha, realized by law is never complete and must always therefore remain incomplete by the force of its own logic. Like Agambenian ‘bare life’, Sriyalatha as a subject continues to be non-political, non-legal and therefore illegal though subjected to state laws without being an actual but metaphorical subject of law. Hence the justification of violence against her as ‘legitimate’. Jacques Derrida usefully reminds us invoking the ghost of Carl Schmitt, of the need to critically engage the critical theorist of the state to understand the geo-political distribution of legitimate and illegitimate violence.1 The specific historical conjuncture this article seeks to unmask, which made the strip search of Sriyalatha—a woman on the margins of the Sri Lankan society—possible by both state sanction and community complicity, an act of violence which the state authorized in which the community acquiesced, makes particularly visible, how a subaltern woman’s otherness/difference is arbitrarily forced open for reinscribing state-sanctioned violence. In the civilizational discourse of security, Sriyalatha represents a space signifying ‘terror’/‘horror’, ‘criminality’/‘deviance’ and her identity fixed by capricious calculations of national security as the ‘dangerous minority’/‘individual’. Her social location of marginality and state violence are co-produced by regimes of inequality; class, gender, sexuality, local and national, each regime with its distinct socio-economic,

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political and spatial dynamics converging to accentuate her desocialization and precariousness placed as she is at the top of the very bottom of the socio-economic and socio-spatial order. Marginality is an experience both embedded and embodied. The state ‘rape’ of Sriyalatha, condoned in the interest of ‘national security’ and governmentality, was the very insignia of modernity internal and external to the state which enables the sovereign state to survive. The state deploys rape in the name of ‘public safety’ and ‘security’, militarized rape is rationalized and normalized and given ideological sanction by the dominant discourse—Sinhala nationalism—as being legitimate and necessary and what is more, befitting even to a Sinhala Buddhist nation/culture. The idea of sovereignty emerges here as ‘alienated’ as Bataille characterized it, as a spectacle of excess. (Bataille 1993). Sriyalatha is both the object for exercising sovereignty and sovereignty’s mirror image (Feldman 2005: 208). Given the ordinary post-colonial state’s extra(ordinary) everyday practice, it is not possible to neatly and easily separate disciplinary (the panoptic) and the security apparati of the state as Agamben insists: ‘discipline wants to produce order while security wants to guide disorder’ (Agamben 2002: 1). They must rather be seen in a relational and dialectical way. In paying particular attention to ‘marginal’ and ‘subjugated’ phenomena, that is, the microphysics of violence2 or the micro technologies of subjectivization, I want to make visible a particular modality of power, the logic of militarized security, in operation in the social field that interpellates and enunciates the modern subject cast in class and gender terms. For a critique of state/community practices to emerge, it is necessary that such a visibility capture the minute, local articulations of ‘intimate knowledge’ of politically-marginalized subjects, histories and social locations. Unveiling particular forms of discrete and naturalized violence produced under the sign of the political, helps produce an understanding of how authoritative state practices or the ideological state apparati might be implicated in the production and perpetuation of gender power and violence. There is a constant movement towards a new arrangement of the body; relations between bodies (her own) and the body politic. Such arrangements are the historical burden of the post-colonial state and national(ist) politics. The very paradoxical doubleness of being a

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subject and being subject to relations of power of hierarchy, hegemony and inequality, is a coercive product of the co-incidence of dominant sociality/morality of the nation, authority of the state and practices of everyday life. Violence inflicted on Sriyalatha has its own genealogy and epistemology. The political and historical conditions, which enable different and differing practices of control and containment, are central to the constitution of the subject and construction of identities. My contention is that both the state and community collude in organizing hegemonic regimes of security, marginality and ‘pliant’ constituents of power. A variety of submerged and (un)conscious political motivations come into play in quotidian formations of violence. In writing grotesque and banal accounts of everyday violence, I am also concerned with the aesthetics, semiotics and the performative of everyday life, elements that produce startling effects of a public spectacle. Such signifying features of hierarchical practice, which have the capacity to parody and ridicule, are productive mechanisms, which have their discursive and non-discursive effects in the intricacies of local micro politics. In certain social configurations, violence is conferred legitimacy, authority, prestige and power. In everyday hierarchical negotiations, violence is authorized under the sign of the political. Sinhalaness, Muslimness or Tamilness, enmeshed as it is in intersecting fields of structure and meaning, is constitutive of and constituted by conflictual and contradictory histories of the political. As Slavoj Zizek has argued, the polemical nature of the political in fact involves a ‘tension’ between the structured social body where each part has its place and the ‘part of no part’, which I identify as the space of the ‘infra political’ subject, which unsettles this order (Zizek 1999: 5). The political in the sovereign exercise of power implies that the sovereign only creates a political community by identifying ‘enemies’ and reconciling His citizens through the exclusion of the Other. I use the male pronoun deliberately here to demonstrate the masculinist desires and imperatives that fuel the modern project of the nation-state. To return to the political, the most visceral effects of such notions of the political are seen apropos of life relations; separation of friend from foe, man from woman, child from father. Violence in the name of the political, albeit of a hegemonic kind, is implicated in practices that seek to ‘ghettoize’, deauthorize and

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depoliticize social margins and spaces of counter and oppositional sociality. Acts of violence, state/non-state, military/domestic, produce binary and oppositional bodies, heroic and aggressive, criminal and communal, which are hierarchized and celebrated, minoritized and humiliated. Since violence simultaneously threatens the hegemonic moral/social/legal order. Through a contextualized reading of the Sinhala state’s everyday practice of militarism and military security, I want to elaborate on how communities at various historical junctures participate in the project of state militarism and militarized nationalism that has a credible ‘liberal democratic’ baggage, producing newer relations of inequality and hierarchy. Such a deconstructive reading must begin with a micro-political account of the ‘invasion’ of the ‘high security zone’ by an ‘intruder’, Sriyalatha as an ‘interloper’, a member of the disenfranchized minority, to interrogate the minute and contingent ways in which the logic of military security is extended to noninstitutionalized spaces and places, borders of the nation’s insurgent and interstitial existence. A critical site, which continues to be colonized and subjugated in struggles of community is the female body, the naturalized, gendered body of modernity; the body that is also raced and classed; the raced body of the Sri Lankan Tamil woman and the classed body of the Sinhala woman. Given the physics of (gender) power in the archaeology of the nation where the ‘whore’ is differentiated and excluded from the ‘virgin’/mother in order to be placed under erasure, the ‘prostitute’ occupies a position of ‘anarchy’, ‘disruptivity’, ‘danger’ and ‘disaster’ in the moral social order. The Sri Lankan state’s violence against a socially-marginalized woman like Sriyalatha, excluded from the liberal promise of equality, is a violent consequence of the logic of modernity. Hence the Sinhala nation’s ignominious stripping of Sriyalatha.

Body as Shield, Battlefield and Territory 29-year-old Manchanayaka Appuhamilage Sriyalatha, widow, single mother and sex worker was strip-searched by Ministerial Security Division (MSD) officers in March 2000, having observed her outwardly ‘suspicious’ movement, ‘covert’ mobility, dressed in a shalwar

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khameez—‘a dress many female suicide bombers wore,’ (Sunday Times 2000: 1) in a high security zone (HSZ) in capital Colombo, that ‘isolated’, ‘closed-off ’ territory, the ‘den of security’ for the rich and powerful, nationally, commercially and socially, linked to domains of capital; local, global, transnational. The security men stripped her at gunpoint, fearing she could be a potential suicide bomber; ‘with guns pointed at me from a distance, they ordered me to raise my blouse. Similarly they asked me to take off my undergarments. They simply stared at me while I stood semi-naked on the street’ (Ibid: 3). The stripping of women served to unveil the veil of feminine modesty, disciplinary femininity, keeping loose, defiant and stubborn women in their ‘rightful’ place, the place of the hearth, the ideological means by which (gender) power is produced and sustained in patriarchal cultures of ‘shame’. But more importantly, the act of the strip-search helped to uncover the post-colonial state’s war of sexual terror and violence, waged against its female ‘citizens’. And rather than expose ‘terrorism’ in the country, it exposed the prostitution among the impoverished. The military high command and the air force were promptly alerted to avert a ‘national security threat’ by launching a ‘pre-emptive’ strike on the alleged suicide bomber; the ‘disgruntled’ subject of modernity committed to undoing, unmaking the (modern) project of the (Sinhala) nation since each suicide mission is aimed at deconstructing the legitimacy of the post-colonial Sinhala state, its authority, political agency and sovereignty. In the aporia of (ethnic) enmity and conflict, the ideological state enacted a series of institutional arrangements to prevent ‘disorder’, preserve ‘order’ and prescribe disciplinary and surveillance tactics and strategies. These institutional mechanisms were primarily aimed at symbolizing or forestalling risk and harm to the nation, to institutions of the state, the consequences of which have been incalculable on the Sri Lankan society. The extraordinary military logistics being readied to pre-empt a single woman’s deadly suicide attack on the city served to lend credence to the presence of actual ‘female terror’ lurking in a ‘forbidden’ zone, the hidden female agency lurking in the body politic. In the military scheme of things, a woman had turned herself into a mobile war machine, prowling stealthily in anticipation of not only her own destruction, but also the Other’s annihilation. To the

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military men’s utter horror, the ultimate, decisive moment of death and destruction—the woman’s body devouring and engulfing the (Sinhala) nation and blown to smithereens—seemed infinitely deferred. Contrary to normative security procedures, Sriyalatha failed to comply with military protocol and discipline; that of individualized surveillance and normalization by not putting her hands up, not producing her National Identification Card (NIC) and worse, speaking in ‘faltering’ Sinhalese. Her nonchalant refusal to raise hands and submit to military orders heightened the sense of ‘doubt’ and ‘terror’, with the possibility of real female terror threatening other bodies; the social body of the Sinhalas. The military men threatened to shoot her. State terror-struck, she screamed, ‘don’t shoot me, I have a child’ (mata veditiyanna epa, mata lamayek innawa). The ‘I’ is a fragmented and shifting one. Sriyalatha refused to identify, declined to name, resisted being authorized and inscribed. Her interiority was one of indifference, indifferent to the men whose mark of presence was asserted in terms of opposition, itself a difference, opposition to difference (the other), marked by her presence. In the dialectics of veiling and unveiling of ‘danger’, her body was mapped in a particular way and resignified, transmogrifying into a battlefield, a militarized zone, into low intensity ‘warfare’. Body as battlefield is a policed zone, a site of dread, danger and terror—a space of ‘duplicitous surface and structural subversion’ (Feldman 2005: 207). Sriyalatha, the constitutive outside of the sovereign national (secure) body, the ‘safe’ body (the Sinhala body politic) from the ‘unsafe’ body (the ‘pornographic’ body) that refused to abjure risk. Sriyalatha represented a site of originarity; circulating risk and threat (Ibid.). The differential effects of the body produced through such uneven positing, unmasked the excess of state power. And yet, in the enunciation of defiance could be seen a site of ‘ambivalent’ agency. Still, the language of her refusal assimilates the very terms of sovereignty; the gender norms of maternity and her familial attachments. Yet, it is an attempt to de-objectify herself as ‘terrorist’/‘whore’ in manipulating patriarchal norms, in identifying herself as a mother; that is, part familial unit. Literacy, communicability and decipherability are forms of symbolic and cultural capital, part of the matrices of the modern state.

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Language, like memory, is part of the power of consciousness (Derrida 1991: 389). They form part of the markers of an individual’s cultural make up, the tropes of community. They are constitutive of rationalities informing practices of governmentality, that imperative to govern political subjects, the exercise of political sovereignty by the state over its subjects that cut across and intersect the fields of discursivity/nondiscursivity, impinging on how a subject gets simultaneously constituted and excluded/inserted into the community and nation. The moment of violence captures poignantly, her linguistic vulnerability and injury in the historical context of ethnic prejudice and criminal impunity of the Sri Lankan state. Butler has shown how the power of language to injure stems from its ‘interpellative’ power and how linguistic agency enables vulnerability (Butler 1997: 6). Sriyalatha blurs all distinctions of identification thereby disabling all possibility of pigeon-holing. She seems out of the depths, endless and unfathomable. She engulfs and enveils any essentiality, identity and ‘properness’. The hegemonic nationalist militarist discourse invoked by the patriotic sons of the nation claiming allegiance to the Sinhala state sought to ‘crack open’ her ethnicity, her ethnically-symbolized body over-determined as Tamil, yet not determinable. Yet she resists being inscribed the hegemonic identity, being pigeon-holed. But forms of identity are tied to the state. Yet, her identity confuses, shifts and dissolves. Getting briskly ready for business, she had gone to the bustling Union Place, a busy intersection located in a commercial district of the city to meet a client. With no sign of her client in sight, she began to take a stroll down Jinarathana Road. In these very localized, globalized spaces of urbanity and post-coloniality, intimacy, be it social or sexual, comes into conflict with ideologies of sovereignty. Sriyalatha was unaware of the new, urban, militarized zones, geographies and maps that ethnic antagonisms have authorized. These ethnically-informed zones and landscapes are themselves the conditions of possibility of specific minor and major wars of ‘purification’, ‘cleansing’ and ‘defilement’. Feldman’s insight is useful here: ‘Violence symbolized or practised in this performative context is identified as the appropriate medium for colonizing the outer margins of community space, while kinship and residential structures are reserved as the central ordering apparatuses of the internal

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community proper’ (Feldman 2005: 226). For Sinhala men, bearers of ‘national security’, burdened by the national(ist) angst to defend the motherland, the land of the Sinhalas, Sriyalatha embodied the actual terror of a suicide bomber, a dominant representation of the Tamil woman in the nationalist statist discourse. Terror-inducing space represents ‘risk’ to the state; potential destruction of symbols of state power and violation of its sovereignty. Her intrusion into public space is construed as ‘contagious’ and ‘offensive’ conduct. Yet, nation is inviolable. Spatial forms of authority and hierarchy are embedded in notions of ‘purity’, ‘sacrality’ and ‘sovereignty’. But as woman, as a subject constituting herself in history, not as an abstract fantasy, Sriyalatha was vulnerable to being objectified, sexualized and shamed, heightened by her inability to establish her ‘ethnic identity’, her mark of ethnicity signifying the undecidable mark. Her experiential angst arising out of uncertainty which is not simply existential, but administrative and political, was being mediated and challenged through particular means. In honour-shame cultures, male honour resides in the sexual probity of women. A woman without shame dishonours men, the nation. As potentially and ‘speculatively’ Tamil, she inhabits a space of immanent danger and death. Impervious to the ambiguities of identity, she unconsciously, though indignantly and intransigently, transgresses and subverts the divide between permeable/impermeable by stepping into the metropole’s HSZ. It is a division that separates life from death, an enclosed space of anticipated, feared if not actual violence, where the imperceptible is rarely missed, always objectified, a constricted place where one’s ethnicity is a singular determinant of one’s own subjective condition. The zone marks a space of possible/actual death where life is reduced to an abstraction or effacement of difference; social, sexual, political and economic forms of the differentiation of subjects, where military imperatives privilege territorial security over and above bodily integrity. The ‘ritualized humiliation’ of Sriyalatha enables a hegemonic moment to inflict a collective sense of humiliation on women; the nation’s other. Her mistaken identity of Tamilness is an effect of power induced by ethnic and cultural stereotypes; her ‘dark complexion’ and the specific dress she wore, produced as ‘indigenised’ ethnic symbols of Tamil women. The ontological argument is implicitly made

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here predicated on a cultural essentialism and scientific classification of individuals; all Tamil women are ‘dark skinned’ and wear Shalwar Khameez. Bundled into a military jeep, she was whisked away to the Slave Island police where she was held incarcerated and interrogated for several days. During interrogation, she was repeatedly, summarily assaulted for her ‘inadequate’, ‘unconvincing’ responses to queries of the military high command. In the local policing of economic, racial and class margins, the deviant (othered) body further adds to localized insecurity. The discourse of national(ist) security is invariably structured by the logic of exclusionary practices; the need to identify and define who belong and where. Violence inflicted on Sriyalatha brings into stark visibility the profound ramifications of military security on the Sri Lankan society; the state’s capacity to identify dispossessed strata of society as ‘enemy population’ and to enforce curbs which are routinely applied to ethnic minorities. Promises of modernity granted women like Sriyalatha a different weight and resonance. Living on the borderlines of gender/class deprivations, her post-colonial location is a sign of ‘racialized’ violence—the all too familiar violence directed at ethnic minority Tamils since ethnically constituted as such—and a symptom of social victimage. By unknowingly daring to ‘encroach’ on territory of ethnic exclusivity preserved/secured for Colombo’s affluent political class and social elite, she had inverted power relations, the hierarchies of authority, under oppressive, self-annihilating and destructive conditions. Authority is then collectively made when bodies simulate power, remaking meaning. Sriyalatha subjects herself to the dictates of state security and its ‘legitimate’ violence out of fear; the fear of being shot at by the agents of the state. The military men threatened to kill her too, out of fear, the fear of the possibility of death the other could cause. In this reciprocity of fear, it is Sriyalatha’s subjection to the military command the state requires to fully authenticate and legitimize its violence. Sriyalatha is originally from the remote farming village of Thelambiyawa off Kurunegala in the north-western province of Southern Sri Lanka. Married to a soldier, but without a marriage certificate, she could not claim the wages of her deceased partner due to the lack of ‘substantial’ proof. The dominant sexual/social morality that prescribes and inscribes Sinhala women posits them

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into the rigid binary of wife/whore. In the operation of this dualism premised on sexual hierarchy in the semiotics of the nation space, Sriyalatha could not establish her identity claim as widow even though married, neither could she lay claim to maternity. Her status of being a widow is a disabling possibility, a negative normativity for women who carry the stigma of being seen as ‘inauspicious’ and ‘unlucky’, yet have the potential to be disruptive of the symbolic order given the field of ‘unregulated’ sexuality they inhabit. An ordinary soldier’s death might have enabled certain claims to be validated under specific conditions, but clearly not in Sriyalatha’s case. Her oppressive social condition is an index of the failure of the nation, its criminal complicity with the physics of power. A widow’s claim to entitlement is founded on a juridical notion of matrimony endorsed by the benevolent patriarchal state. Privileged widows of major generals and brigadiers—bourgeois women positioned as subjects of law—are recipients of military glamour valourized by the state. Positioned and posited by her class, gender and location, Sriyalatha was an ‘estranged’ widow of no consequence (to the nation), her marriage to an unknown soldier never entered the marriage registry, and therefore not legally constituted, her maternity, itself a dubious claim, not sanctioned, not by the state nor by community, not redeemed by the purity of constitutionality and her male offspring remains ‘illegitimate’ in a culture of male bravado and ‘bourgeois’ family. Her ‘demeaned’ body deciphers the discriminatory structures of the body politic. One’s insertion into political citizenship must be negotiated in national and statist terms. The patriarchal Sinhala state in recognition of fallen heroes’/husbands’ fearless feats and sacrifices in the frontlines to defend the nation accords military privileges on ‘bourgeois’ widows—by bestowing glamour and glory of memorials, foundations and special fund—state privileges which are summarily denied to Sriyalatha for being a widow of no consequential effect. The state denies to her all military privileges, which it otherwise bestows on ‘bourgeois’ widows. She possesses no national identification card, a coercive bureaucratic procedure that cancels out other identifications, making uniform and national one’s ethnic identity, a necessary condition to establish one’s claims to citizenship and

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political community. While a colonial category, the post-colonial imposition of NIC was actualized especially under the repressive rule of the Emergency and Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA). The necessity of the NIC was validated in terms of an ideological imperative, at the height of the (internal) threat to the state, from the south and from the north and east. Rationalized in the name of ‘political stability’ and ‘territorial integrity’, NIC was forced down on the subject population. Sriyalatha could make no allegiance to a place of her own. Living on the further fringes of marginality, she could not, did not belong. As the alienated modern, she could not insert herself into any collective body. Her refuge was not the gendered space of the brothel. Every tenuous night, she slept in a ghetto near the squalid Pettah bus stand; a place of ‘duplicity’, ‘immorality’ and ‘evil’, the ubiquitous space of ‘degenerate’ men and women, the masculinized community of the ‘criminal underclass’, beyond Sinhala civility and bereft of any sense of lajja (shame) and baya (fear). Sriyalatha was a destitute, displaced woman. Her perpetual adversity is her existential trap. What Sriyalatha shares in common is a shared history of deprivation and discrimination. Her meanings and priorities are neither statist, nor nationalist, yet irreducibly singular but profoundly antagonistic, conflictual and even incommensurable. She had willingly parted with her only child, her uneasy willingness induced by the trauma of economic impoverishment and exploitation, sending him to a childcare centre in Kurunegala, her own way of averting herself (the indignity of motherhood) from herself (of womanhood). Her everyday life was one of strenuous, bitter struggle just to survive. While in Colombo, she was thrown into the perilous world of prostitution—and testing her tryst with historical contingency—the hideous trade of criminals, legislated by the puritanical colonial state and actively upheld by Sinhala Buddhist nationalists—each happening in her life marked by incoherence, uncertainty, instability and discontinuity. By unconsciously or subconsciously resisting the state/community-instigated and enforced norms of circulation and by actively practising ‘illicit’ forms of economic/sexual/political/social exchange and transaction, Sriyalatha was affirming a sense of belonging, however precarious, that might be deemed ‘infra-political’; a woman in between modernity and its aftermath, humanity and inhumanity,

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citizenship and its denial (Ranciere 1992); a body declared not to be in the ‘national interest’. There is a sense of immediacy to her daily struggles, even the precarious struggle to just get by, that involved a stubborn indifference to all norms of civility, sociality and womanhood. The one without a proper place in the social edifice. She regained a sense of self and subjectivity through indifference, by transgressing dominant, oppressive modes of fashioning community, by repudiating a community constructed around national affiliation and sexual attachment (Parker et al. 1992). The event of stripping generated titillation and salacious diatribes in the sensationalist, jingoist print media. Writing to the daily Island newspaper, a self-professed Sinhala nationalist pilloried Sriyalatha for her act of ‘criminality’, ‘vulgarity’ and ‘deviance’. He justified the armed forces’ stripping by saying ‘as a sex worker, that was her living anyway’. Oppressive language does more than violence; it is violence (Butler 1997: 7). Such is the caste of mind of a virulent nationalist who observes the society as a spectacle in a detached insular kind of way, seeing things like the state. The justification for ‘war for peace’ was increasingly being made at a time when human rights were being depoliticized. The mediatized response was a violent gesture of depoliticization, of denying to the victimized other, political subjectivization (Zizek 2003). In a vein of sexist invective and racist smear, he carped about her ‘polluting’ sexuality in all its profanity, but not the military security assault on the woman’s body signifying her ethnicity and class. By vulgarizing state power and military valour in his hate speech, he reinvigorated, re-established contexts of hate and injury (Butler 1997: 7). Such are the moments when power vulgarizes itself. He lauded the state for ‘proper’ and swift action merely to glamourize his own (and the Sinhalas’) brutal forms of the vulgar. In the hegemonic nationalist historical meta narrative of Buddhist modernity and civility, the urban ghetto, the precarious ‘home’ of Sriyalatha, symbolizes cultural ‘decay’ and ‘decline’. The ghetto which constitutes her ‘dwelling’, the familiar ‘habitation’ of modernity of semi-urban, proletarianized and lumpen classes, represents what sociologists have described as an ‘urban condom’, the sexual metaphor alluding to its inherently elusive, unstable boundary. The nationalist revulsion to sites like Sriyalatha’s body, is more an expression

322 Mangalika de Silva

of fear of (cultural/sexual) ‘contamination’ than a security ‘threat’ to the body politic. In the exemplary nationalist discourse of military security, her body signified the indissociability of sexual affront and racial frontier. Terror-induced violence perpetrated on Sriyalatha was instantly, casually turned into a source of derision, vilification and slander. Women’s groups entered the fray to voice their outrage and condemnation. But the feminist move was not geared to rebutting the claims of the chorus of Sinhala chauvinists and sexists nor to turn the discourse of national security on its head. The ‘shameful stripping’ was seen in a ‘continuum of extreme violence against women’. Feminists attributed the euphemistically worded ‘offensive’ and ‘invasive’ security measures like strip-searches to the ‘degree of brutality and militarization in Sri Lankan society’. Yet in women’s invariably obtuse critiques of practices of state militarism, eminently political questions of the modalities and governing instrumentalities, rationalized and legitimated in stripping women in the service of ‘national security’, were left untouched. Sriyalatha’s class status and its constitutive gendered oppressions were glossed over and the nationalist justification for violence in the name of ‘public security’ unquestioned. Indeed, the feminist intervention is betrayed by a certain irony. There was no serious attempt to problematize the intersection of sexual, nationalist, class violence from the interstitial perspective. No systematic connection made between violence against Sriyalatha and the pervasive economic, sexual exploitation and social ostracization of women in war-ravaged areas like the border villages in Southern Sri Lanka. Crucially and paradoxically, feminists located the core problématique of women’s brutalization, nationalist war and minority oppression, in a liberal discourse of rights, asserting ‘women’s inalienable, indivisible right to dignity and non harassment’, with varying degrees of emphasis on ‘respectful and ‘humane behaviour in future searches’, (WMC 2000) instead of subjecting the conceptual conceits of ‘national security’, the ideological presuppositions underlying state discourse on security to hermeneutic suspicion. The object of feminist critique was not the ideological presuppositions of national security, which increasingly hinged on a discourse of militarism. Nor did they question the insidious protocols of violence under

Stripping Women, Securing the Sovereign ‘National’ Body 323

regimes of impunity and how such regimes constantly sought to rework power relations; inequalities among and between genders, classes and ethnicities in the quest for hegemony. The uncritical, nonthreatening and problematic recourse to a universal language of rights amorphously predicated on a ‘free subject free to decide’, radically circumvented the inevitable recognition of power differentials in fierce assertions of community, identity and difference. The feminist critique was not honed to enabling women move beyond the textuality of discourse towards the textuality of the (ethnic) body for the mime in which bodies collectively make authority and remake meaning drowns out the larger more structural din of sexuality. The discourse of Rights as strategy and intervention thwarted crucial primary political insights, that is, the tactical and obverse ways of articulating relations of domination and thereby effectively undermining the revoltingly ambiguous and dangerous rationality of security; the Sri Lankan state’s hegemonic impulse to militarize and criminalize women’s bodies. What intensified power relations among women was the hasty decision by women’s groups to arbitrarily call off a public shalwar khameez demonstration planned near the Liberty Plaza which stood on the border of the high security zone. The decision to defer the protest infinitely and interminably was incited by an assemblage of spatial, temporal and subjective constraints of memory and history; the fear of a possible police and/or military assault on the protestors resulting in arrests, detention and further stripping. Such expressions of fear were shared by individual women who originally mooted the idea of protest. It was also argued that women’s action might be construed as a grave ‘provocation’ with the protest itself transforming into a site of (state) violence. However, women’s non-action, their action of indefinitely suspending the protest, in the wake of Sriyalatha’s stripping, arrest, detention and assault, provoked angry reactions from some activists who signed up for the protest in earnest and a minority MP representing the plantation Tamil community who despairingly cavilled about ‘middle class Colombo women’s pretensions to fighting oppression and violence and their feigned commitment to women’s rights’. The women’s resistance to shalwar-clad public protest against military security made forcefully visible, the confluence of internal power relations in the construction of privileged identifications, techniques

324 Mangalika de Silva

of coercion and oppressive coordinates of rule on notions of self vis-à-vis self and self/other. The point here is not that women’s activists are conscious accomplices to ideologies of militarism and nationalism. The point rather is that by failing to problematize state violence and violence against Sriyalatha, they reinscribed the conceptual presuppositions and problématique of national security discourse through which the state continued to justify criminalization and militarization of specific spaces, bodies and practices. What Sriyalatha’s experience exemplifies is the very banality of grotesque violence against women in the Sri Lanka everyday. What the conjuncture produced or helped to reinforce was a specific national(ist) identity. Given the discursive salience of social morality (organically linked to libidinous economies of the Sinhala community) that authorizes public stripping of women, it was not the bodily violation in the form of stripping of Sriyalatha, widow, mother and sex worker, that was seen as ‘grotesque’ and ‘obscene’, but her materiality of being a prostitute, a site of Sinhala cultural ‘disgust’, the ‘dark underside’ of the pristine Sinhala Buddhist culture, a sight marked by the duality of dread and tension in the nationalist discourse of Sinhala sexuality; the ‘slut’ in Sri Lankan society is the ‘disreputable’, ‘undesirable’ Other, the constitutive outside of the ‘dutiful’, ‘respectable’ Sinhala Buddhist housewife. The moment of production of woman as prostitute semiotically locates gender identifications in a larger field of contested significations. Women’s intervention by way of the depoliticized humanitarian politics of human rights can be construed in terms of an impasse; withdrawal from protest and not rendering the ideology of militarism problematic. Intervene so as not to question the hegemonic ideological coordinates. The impasse bears witness to the material forces of the ideological notion of ‘free choice’ (Zizek 2003). The resignification of Sriyalatha as a ‘debauched’ and ‘immoral’ figure, opens to interrogation Sinhala Buddhist militarism and bourgeois hypocrisy through which notions of collective selfhood have been mediated in Sri Lankan modernity. In the mediatized representations of the ‘sensational stripping’, her stigmatized, ‘contaminated’ body is projected as oversexualized and commodified in a field of particular kind of politics; sexual, communal and national politics. Sexual politics violently denies to prostitutes the possibilities of

Stripping Women, Securing the Sovereign ‘National’ Body 325

being human, being political and being subjects of community. There is a body, female, Sinhala and Tamil, operating in a discursive silence. Yet it is not empty, but full of density, itself offering a discrete corporeality. In the eyes of men of ‘honour’ of the nation, the privileged cultural brokers, revulsed by the transgression of a ‘floozy’, Sriyalatha had nevertheless irreverently, obstinately deviated from the masculinist ideological norm of lajja baya, a signifier of feminine charm and public modesty, modesty and charm associated with docile and submissive Sinhala Buddhist femininity valorized by Sinhala nationalism. The Sinhala nation’s ‘respectability’ (embodied in the deified Buddhist mother/wife) was thus marred and maimed by her anti-national ‘debauchery’. But Sriyalatha embodies all that a Sinhala Buddhist wife is not, a woman without lajja, without the slightest pretence of baya, fear or modesty. A woman’s modesty in public/private symbolizes the masculinity of community. She is unrepentantly defiant of lajja baya. Her promiscuity constitutes the ultimate horrific ‘blot’ on the Sinhala nation. Her sexually risqué public presence was both a ‘disgrace’ to the nation’s prestige and emblematic of ‘national decay’. Microphysics of power determines, legislates which bodies can appropriate, mingle with and inhabit which places/bodies/spaces. While Sriyalatha because woman and sex worker was decivilized and demonized, the regular, persistent, permissive state violence that maims, mutilates, murders, was represented as ‘rational’ and ‘necessary’. Her body was marked as a site of danger and doom in state practices and civil society discourses, both gender and geography conniving in instrumentalizing her as an object as well as an agent of violence if not an accomplice, while failing to incriminate the state as the primary perpetrator, aggressor and victimizer. The seductive state fired by a moral purpose, (fighting terror/separatism and defending the unitary state) continues in a cavalier fashion, to remain as the unalloyed nationalist ‘provider’ and ‘protector’ of its subjects. Its use of violence as an instrument of rule to enforce ethnic subordination, to stigmatize, constrain and subject minorities to spatial confinement and institutional encasement, is deemed ‘legitimate’. The state was not seen as the agent in criminalizing her femininity and endangering her broken life; rather her transgressive intrusion

326 Mangalika de Silva

into ‘sovereign’ space was seen as threatening ‘public morality’, ‘order’ and ‘security’. She was made into a ‘spectacle’ in which both the pernicious state and the incestuous community aided and abetted in the authority and morality of violence, turning power into a carnal fetish. In this normalization of the spectacular violence, the spectacle of the violated body, which invokes laughter, bemusement and revulsion in the Sri Lankan socius, official values are not desecrated or inversed, to use a Bhakti-nian formulation. Rather, in this gendered (excess) enjoyment of violence, the community confers legitimacy, glamour, honour and power on the state’s capacity to differentiate, discriminate and dominate. State as apparatus, as instrument, as agent of violence can be selectively panoptic. Gender power is made into a performative fetish in the phantasmagoria of the state’s quest for hegemony. Power as fetish is thus sacralised and hierarchized. The performative space is a place inscribed by hierarchies, institutions and techniques. Gender power’s excess, (masculinist) state violence is aestheticised3 in the form of brutal bodily rape, the grotesque stripping of women in the most mundane, banal and ordinary situations; at extravagant, elaborate election campaigns, at mass protests and during domestic spousal abuse. Hence the location of lajja baya in the Sri Lankan social field: its normalization in the socialization of Sinhala girls, a Nietzschean authority that submits the body to a complex of registers inciting indignity, pain and violation. In practices of everyday life, gender power then is derived from the productive effect of lajja baya. The state as the militarist and nationalist, as the authoritative patriarchal agent of violence invaded her body to strip Sriyalatha of socially-sanctioned lajja baya by stripsearching, while penalizing her for ‘offensive’ (lack of lajja baya) and ‘criminal’ conduct (walking into the High Security Zone). It is in opposition to the loss of lajja baya that Sinhala civilities are then posited and defined. Feldman has argued how power is embedded in the body, which becomes an instrument of agency when politicized. But politicization is neither singular nor uniform nor even. In post-colonial social formations, the socialized body is always already a politicized body reconstituted through a variety of signifying practices. Interlocking and overlapping ideologies of class, sexuality and ethnicity impinge on the constitution of the body. How

Stripping Women, Securing the Sovereign ‘National’ Body 327

bodies locate themselves and are located in the social field is critical to enabling/disabling conditions of possibility. Modes of politicization are prior to identity or identification. The process of politicization is one fraught with tension and struggle, especially under regimes of militarism and nationalism—the conditions of Capitalist modernity. As the ultra politics that authorized Sriyalatha’s strip-search brings into discursive visibility, it is through micro-state practices that one is able to see a fusion of the Exception, ordinary/extraordinary with the Sri Lankan Everyday. This, I plead, is an important intersection. Violence against Sriyalatha is a testimony that the hegemonic state remains a contested site. The everyday (infra) political struggles waged by women like Sriyalatha against subjugation and minoritization constitutive of the (ultra) politics of the state, reveal the very incompleteness of the ideological project of the ethnicallyconfigured militarist state, seeking to depoliticize state’s margins via the direct militarization of politics.

Acknowledgements I wish to thank Navnita Behera for inviting me to present this paper at the APSIA held in Goa, India from 20–21 October 2003. This article in its revised form would not be possible without her constant prodding and encouragement. I sincerely acknowledge comments made by all the participants. I am particularly grateful to Anisha Kinra, Prithvi Ram Mudiam, Dilara Chowdhury and Mohamed Mijarul Quayes for an engaging conversation especially on questions of male honour, nationalist desire and gender violence that animate this article. I also want to thank travel agent Cdr C.P. Sharma for his ‘rescue’ efforts when I got stranded/landed in Bombay having missed my original flight from Colombo.

ENDNOTES 1. See also for an extended discussion on contemporary state practices, Giovanna Borradori (ed.), 2003. Philosophy in a Time of Terror: Dialogues with Jurgen Habermas and Jacques Derrida. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

328 Mangalika de Silva 2. A Foucauldian formulation, by microphysics, I refer to the different forms of embodiment and their effects in discursive formations and non-discursive processes. Here, I want to make the link between gendered production of the body and practices of violence. 3. The concept is taken from Achille Mbembe’s work, 2001 in particular his On The Postcolony. Berkley: University of California Press.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Agamben, Georgio. 2002. ‘Security and Terror’. Theory and Event, 5(4): 1–4. Bataille, Georges. 1993. The Accursed Share. New York: Zone Books. Butler, Judith. 1997. Excitable Speech. New York: Routledge. ————–. 2002. ‘Guantanamo Limbo: International Law Offers Too Little Protection for Prisoners of the New War’, Nation, 4(1): 20–24. Borradori, Giovanna (ed.). 2003. Philosophy in a Time of Terror: Dialogues with Jurgen Habermas and Jacques Derrida. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Chatterjee, Partha. 2004. The Politics of the Governed: Reflections on Popular Politics in Most of the World. New Delhi: Permanent Black. Derrida, Jacques. 1991. ‘Geschlecht: Sexual difference, ontological difference’, in Peggy Kamuf (ed.), Derrida Reader, Between the Blinds, pp. 378–402. New York: Harvester Wheatsheaf. ————–. 2004. ‘Qu’est-ce que le terrorisme?, Le Monde Diplomatique, 51(599): 16–17. Feldman, Allen. 1996. Formations of Violence: The Narrative of the Body and Political Terror in Northern Ireland. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. ————–. 2005. ‘Catastrophilia and the Actuarial Gaze: From 9/11 to Abu Ghraib’, Cultural Studies, 19(2): 203–26. Mbembe, Achille. 2001. On the Postcolony. Berkley: University of California Press. Parker, Andrew, Mary Russo and Doris Sommer (eds). 1992. Nationalisms and Sexualities. New York: Routledge. Ranciere, Jacques. 1992. ‘Politics, identification, subjectivisation’, October, 61 (Summer): 58–64. The Sunday Times: 19/03/2000 (Colombo). Women & Media Collective, Colombo. 15/04/2000. Zizek, Slavoj. 1999. ‘Carl Schmitt in the Age of Post Politics’, in Chantal Mouffe (ed.), The Challenge of Carl Schmitt, pp. 18–37. London: Verso. ————–. 2003. ‘The Iraq war: Where is the True Danger?’, pp. 1–4. Available online at http://lacan.com (downloaded on 9.02.2006). ————–. 2005. ‘The Obscenity of Human Rights: Violence as Symptom’. Available online at http://lacan.com. (downloaded on 17.08.2005).

About the Editor and Contributors

EDITOR Navnita Chadha Behera is Professor at the Nelson Mandela Centre for Peace and Conflict Resolution, Jamia Millia Islamia. Earlier she has served as Reader of International Relations at University of Delhi; Assistant Research Professor at Centre for Policy Research, New Delhi; and Visiting Fellow, Brookings Institution, Washington, D.C. She has authored many books including Demystifying Kashmir (Brookings Press & Pearson Longman, 2007), and Gender, Conflict and Migration (SAGE, 2006). Her other publications include State, Identity and Violence: Jammu, Kashmir and Ladakh (2000); People to People Dialogues in South Asia (as co-author, 2000); State, People and Security: The South Asian Context (as editor, 2001); Perspectives on South Asia (as co-editor, 2000).

CONTRIBUTORS Amitav Acharya: Centre for Governance and International Affairs Department of Politics, University of Bristol, the UK. Anand Aditya: Pragya Foundation, Kathmandu, Nepal. Neera Chandhoke: Department of Political Science, University of Delhi, Delhi, India. Shibashis Chatterjee: Department of International Relations, Jadavpur University, West Bengal, India.

330 About the Editor and Contributors

Mangalika de Silva: Amsterdam School of Social Science Research, University of Amsterdam, The Netherlands. Sohail Inayatullah: Graduate Institute for Future Studies, Tamkang University, Taiwan. Haider K. Nizamani: School For International Studies, Simon Fraser University, Canada. Mijarul Quayes: Centre for Alternatives, Dhaka University, Bangladesh. A.K. Ramakrishnan: Centre for West Asian Studies, Jamia Millia Islamia, New Delhi, India. Varun Sahni: Centre for International Politics, School of International Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, India. Ayesha Siddiqa: Independent Political Analyst, Islamabad, Pakistan. Ganga Bahadur Thapa: Tribhuvan University, Kathmandu. Jayadeva Uyangoda: Department of Political Science and Public Policy, Univeristy of Colombo, Sri Lanka.

Index

Advanced Light Helicopter (ALH) programme, 219 Advanced Technology Vessel (ATV) programme, 219 Ahmad, Abdul Mansur, 23 American exceptionalism, 18 Americanocentrism, 14, 80, 84 American theory, 81, 83 Anderson, Benedict, 83–84 Appadurai, Arjun, 14, 86 area studies, 84–85, 87 debate in US, 82–83 disciplinary approach, 79–81 knowledge of IR, 38 features of, 2 tradition, 74 Asia epistemic communities, 74 identity, 77 values concept, 77, 82, 84 Asian political and international studies area studies and discipline, 79–81 Asianization of, 75–76 challenges of diversity, 76–78 exceptional and parochialism, 82–84 globalization challenge, 84–87 subordinate systems to regional worlds, 84–87 theorizing of, 80–81 Asian Political and International Studies Association (APISA), 7, 75–76, 78, 81, 83, 85–87

Asia Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC), 64, 85 Assamese nationalism, 22 Association of South East Asian Nations (ASEAN), 74 Ayoob, Mohammad, 17, 28 Bangladesh creation of, 131 ethnicity and violence in, 196–97 Barter trade, 70 beneficence theory, 261 Bengali ethno-nationalism, 196 border management, in India, 225–29, 231–32 capitalist cooperation, 299 centre-state relations issues, 142 CGT syndrome, 284 Chatterjee, Shibashish, 34, 39, 91 civil rights, 3, 257, 260, 262–64, 279 civil society, 74, 78, 154 betrayal of, 71 global, 274 organizations, 172, 288 peace activists, 124 practices, 307, 325 and press, 170 state and, 54, 59, 97, 121, 300, 307 struggles in, 257 clandestine alliances insecurity, 284 classical realism, 180–82, 184 colonial state, 22, 26, 34, 146, 320 communal sectarianism, 135 communism, 153, 155, 162, 166

332 International Relations in South Asia conflicts de-escalation, 113 and peace processes, 15 resolution negotiation, 113–14 process, 113 returning to normal politics, 113–14 through federalism, 111, 120, 122–24, 126 constructivism, paradigm on intrastate and inter-state conflicts, 178–79, 182, 186–89, 205, 220 context-sensitive social science, 83 cooperative security, 274 Coordination Centre of Maoist Parties and Organizations of South Asia (CCOMPOSA), 163 Copenhangen School (on securityidentity nexus), 84 Council for Security Cooperation in Asia Pacific, 74 criminals, 306, 320 Cuban Missile crisis, 217 cultural pluralism, 39, 63 cultural rights, 265–67 decolonization, 16, 78, 129–30 Defence Public Sector Undertakings (DPSUs), 218 democracy analysis, 168–72 conceptual views, 153–57 and liberalism, 299 Nepal, 152, 157–72 Constituent Assembly election, 165–68 historical perspective, 157–58 Maoist insurgency, 161–64 transition to democracy, 158–61, 168–72 post-colonial experiments in, 78 democratic enlargement thesis, 154 democratization effect, 155

de Silva, Mangalika, 36–37, 39 disciplinary gate-keeping practices, role of, 15 DMA syndrome, 284 domestic violence, 182 Dravidian movement, 197 Drupka ethno-nationalism, 196–97 Emergency and Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA), 320 epistemic violence, 21 ethnic community, 33, 123, 125, 137, 149, 198–99 ethnic conflict resolution through federalism, 111, 120, 122–24, 126 (See also Ethnicity) in Sri Lanka, 30 ethnicity and nationalism, 196–98 and violence in India, 196–98 in Pakistan, 196–99 in South Asia, 31, 114, 116–18, 180, 194–205, 256–58 in Sri Lanka, 196–98 ethnocentrism, 14, 41, 75–82 ethno-political conflicts, 29, 113 European identity, 138 Movement, 141 nation-state, 29 European Union (EU), 62, 64 and post-Westphalian world, 140–42 exceptionalism, 75, 82–84 exclusive economic zone (EEZ), 221–22 external security policy, India, 35, 209–32 agent-structure interplay, 211, 229–32 border management, 225–29 maritime security, 221–25

Index 333 military industry, 218–21 nuclear deterrence, 214–18 regional security, 211–14 Falklands war of 1982, 224 fascism, 153 federalism, ethnic conflict resolution through, 111, 120, 122–24, 126 fish workers’ movement, 302–03 Food Availability Decline (FAD) thesis, 287 freedom, and Westphalian state, 134–37 French touts azimuts (all horizons) doctrine, 216 Gemeinschaft, 130–32, 143, 145 General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT), 302 Gesellschaft, 130–32, 143 global community of villages, 58 global identity-in-the-making, 137 globalization, 297 impact of, 84–87 process of, 139–41, 146 global warming, 57 governance crisis, 272 global, 274 and human rights, 128 infrastructure, 130 institutions of, 129, 195 process, 126 purpose, 97–98 system, 142, 153, 157–58, 160, 172 Gujral Doctrine, 214, 230 Hindu nationalism, 22 human insecurities, 36 rights, 36–37, 67, 69, 71, 128, 153, 158, 260, 262, 267, 276, 279, 282, 321, 324

security, 258–67, 274, 286–87, 291 hybridity post-colonialism, concept of, 132 identity conflict insecurity, 284 imperialism, 15, 136, 303 India arms acquisitions, 219–20 constitution, 31 ethnicity and violence in, 196–98 external security policy, 35, 209–32 agent-structure interplay, 211, 229–32 border management, 225–29, 231–32 maritime security, 221–25, 231–32 military industry, 218–21, 231–32 nuclear deterrence, 214–18, 231–32 regional security, 211–14, 231–32 Siachen experience, 228 technical monitoring of LOC, 228–29 threat zones, 221–22 nation-building strategies, 35 nuclear doctrine, 214–17 Pakistan relations, 91, 199–205 national interest pursuit preposition, 201 power balancing preposition, 200 realism and constructivism paradigms, 179–80, 189–94, 202–03, 205 realist and constructivist formulation, 202–03 self-help preposition, 199–200 security policy, 105 Indian nationalism, 20–22, 24 Indira Doctrine, 214

334 International Relations in South Asia insecurity, in South Asia and crisis syndrome, 271–72 phenomenon, 252–58 physical, 253 political, 254 socio-economic, 253–54 sources, 283–86 structural, 275–76, 283–85 institutionalism and neoliberalism, 296–304 insurgent movements, 142 internal colonialism, concepts of, 15 international law, 15, 128, 309 international order, 15, 190–91, 299 International Relations (IR) 17 theories, 178 realism, 180–81 agent-structure problem, 210–11, 229–32 alternative paradigm, 38–42 disciplinary boundaries, 39–40 expertise knowledge building, 40 indigenization of academic discourses, 41–42 area studies and disciplinary knowledge, 38 constructivism paradigm, 178–79, 182, 186–89 critique of liberal theory, 296–304 cultures, 191–92 disciplinary location, 2–4, 39–40 epistemic foundations of, 14–19 epistemic pluralism, 179 foreign funding in, 6 Hobbesian culture, 191–92, 204 Indian conception, 2, 18 Kantian culture, 191–93, 204 liberal institutionalism and neoliberalism, 296–304 literature on, 14–15 Lockean culture, 191–93 modernity in, 18–19

pedagogical issues academic community, 7–8 career issues, 10–11 funding, 5–6 institutional building strategies, 5 publishing culture and outlets, 8–10 student training problems, 11–13 practice of, 13–14 realism and neorealism paradigms, 178–87 silences in South Asia, 19–24 in South Asian context, 1, 19–24 state and its security dilemmas, 24–33 theoretical activity in, 92–93 International Studies Association (ISA), 7, 87 intra-state and inter-state conflicts, 91, 113, 190, 278 constructivism paradigm, 178–79, 182, 186–89, 205 realism and neorealism paradigms, 178–87, 205 Islamic nationalism, 22 Jana Andolan II (people’s movement), Nepal, 163, 170–71 janayuddha (people’s war), Nepal, 163, 170–71 Joshi, Nandini, 60 Kargil conflict, 217, 220, 222, 226, 240, 245 Kashmiri nationalism, 22 knowledge creation in IR, 14, 19–20 Kothari, Rajni, 9, 287 Kuki National Army (KNA), 196 language studies, 85 Lhotsampa refugees crisis, 285

Index 335 liberal institutionalism and neoliberalism, 296–304 liberalism, 179, 196–97, 298, 301, 303 and democracy, 154, 299 political, 155 liberal post-colonialism, concept of, 132 Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), Sri Lanka, 110–12, 115, 117, 120, 123–24, 126, 163 libertarianism concept, 264 Light Combat Aircraft (LCA) programme, India, 219 Main Battle Tank (MBT) programme, India, 219 majoritarianism and minorityism, problem of, 254–56, 258 Malvinas war of 1982, 224 Mandala theory, of regionalism, 17 Maoist Coordination Centre, Bihar, 163 Maoist insurgency, in Nepal, 34 marginals, 121, 306, 311 maritime security, in India, 221–25, 231–32 Marshall Plan, 141 military industry, in India, 218–21, 231–32 minorities, 55, 57, 66, 68, 97, 118–21, 125, 142, 162, 171, 254, 256–58, 267, 306–07, 318, 325 emancipatory politics, 31 nationalisms, 116 modernity, 17–19, 32, 37, 41, 55, 59–60, 62, 65, 135, 155, 306, 309, 311, 313–14, 318, 320–21, 324, 327 modern nation-state, 26–29 Mohajir Qaumi Movement (MQM), 197–99 Mohalla Committees, in Bhiwandi, 289 Muslim ethnicity, conception of, 15

Muslim League, 22 Muslim nationalism, 22–23 Muslim salariat, conception of, 15 Naga nationalism, 22 Nandy, Ashis, 17, 39, 42, 57, 62–63 Narmada Bachao Andolan, 302 national community, 7, 137, 188, 300 National Fish workers’ Forum (NFF), 303 national identity, 63–64, 68, 103, 111, 132, 138, 144–45, 187 nationalism, 78, 138–39 Assamese, 22 authoritarian, 153 concept of, 20–22, 194, 291 on ethnic basis, 23–24, 203 of exclusion, 203–04 growth of, 183 Indian, 20–22, 24 Islamic, 22 Kashmiri, 22 Muslim, 22 Naga, 22 and nation building, 145 Pakistani, 22–24 pan-Muslim, 23 political culture of, 143 realism and neorealism, 182, 186, 202 roots of, 143 secular notion of, 22 Sikh, 22 Sinhala, 30 and Westphalian state, 134–37 national liberation, 31, 116 national security, 35, 37, 39, 61, 92, 97, 106, 188, 211–12, 222, 237, 239, 273, 278, 307–08, 310–11, 314, 317, 322, 324 National Socialist Council of Nagaland (Issak–Muivah faction), 196

336 International Relations in South Asia nation-building, 35, 90, 142–43, 145, 167, 258 and nationalism, 145 strategies in India, 35 nation formation and state-building processes, 115, 130–31 nation-securing, 90 nation-state, 19, 53, 57, 61, 86, 129, 137–39, 141, 147, 195, 312 centrality of, 141 concept, 20–21, 27–31 demise, 137 European, 29 legitimacy, 31 modern, 21, 26, 28–29, 31 nationalism and, 138 policies, 69 of South Asia, 34 space of, 135 western, 29 Westphalian, 19 negotiations, conflicts resolution through, 113–14 neoliberalism democratic implications, 37 and democratic implications, 300 disciplinary, 301 and liberal institutionalism, 296–304 neorealism assumptions, 93–96 and developmentalism paradigm, 55 hegemony, 83 structural, 181 trait of, 100 Nepal Constituent Assembly election, 165–68 Constitution of, 158–59 democracy, 152, 157–72 ethnic discrimination, 159, 163 ethnicity and violence in, 196–97 historical perspective, 157–58

liberal polity, 158 Maoist Insurgency, 161–64 Panchayat system, 157–58, 160 political system, 159 Rana rule, 157 royal autocracy in, 157, 160 transition to democracy, 158–61, 168–72 Nepali Congress (NC), 158, 160, 165 Nepal-India Treaty of Friendship and Security, 1950, 278 non-alignment, conceptualizations, 16, 19 non-offensive defence (NoD), See Non-provocative defence (NPD) work non-provocative defence (NPD) work concept, 236–38 in Pakistan, 239–50 non-violence, philosophy of, 134 North Atlantic theories, 81 nuclear deterrence, 15, 35, 95, 211, 230, 240, 246–47, 249–50, 278 in India, 214–18, 231–32 nuclear doctrine India, 214–17 of India, 214–17 nuclear issue, dissenting voices on, 15, 95 nuclear weapons, 51, 65, 189–90, 214–17, 243–44, 250, 273 stabilizing role of, 93–96, 202–03 oriental exceptionalism, 106 orientalism, 27–28, 85, 96, 99, 107, 132–33 Pacific Economic Cooperation Conference, 74 Pakistan ethnicity and violence in, 196–99

Index 337 India-centric security dilemma, 35 Kashmir policy, 217 nation-building strategies, 35 NPD work in, 239–50 development of strategic perception, 239–46 NoD option, 246–50 operational level, 248 strategic level, 247 tactical level, 248–50 security perception, 240–46 Kashmir issue, 241–42, 244–46, 250 security policy, 105 Pakistani nationalism, 22–24 palimpsest identity, 144–45 Panchsheel, concept of, 17 Pani Panchayats, Bihar, 289 parochialism, 38, 75, 82–84, 87, 291 peace accords, 115, 164 education, 291 international cooperation for, 297 movements, 239 political foundation for, 124 processes, 15–16, 27, 54–57, 61, 68–69, 93–94, 96, 110–11, 113, 118, 120, 122, 125–26, 141, 164, 172, 190, 192, 196, 201, 204–05, 214, 224, 246, 287–88, 300 sanctity of social, 291 transformatory, 112 war for, 307, 321 of Westphalia, 128 peaceful nuclear explosion (PNE), 240 Peace Now group, Israel, 288 People’s War Group, Andhra Pradesh, 163 political realism, 21, 91–92 legitimacy, 17

philosophy, 19 theory, 18 postclassical realism, 185 post-colonial societies, 98–99 post-colonial state, 17, 97, 101, 112, 123, 284 post-colonial theory, of Westphalian state, 34, 132–34 post-Westphalian world directions, 137–40 European Union and, 140–42 poverty crisis, in South Asia, 272 Progressive Utilization Theory, 59–60, 64 proto second tier imperialism, 15 protracted social conflicts (PSC), 113–18, 283 PSPM syndrome, 284 puro samaj, notion of, 34, 136, 147 Quayes, Mijarul, 34 radical Buddhism, 57 Ralegan Siddhi Experiment, Maharashtra, 289 Ramakrishnan, A.K., 37, 39 realism and constructivism, 186 realism and neorealism paradigms, on intra-state and inter-state conflicts, 178–87, 205 realist IR, 21 regionalism, in South Asia, 15, 17, 287 regionalist movements, 78 regional security, in India, 35, 211–14, 231–32 representation insecurity, 284 resource crisis insecurity, 284 reverse ethnocentrism, 75 Revolutionary International Movement (RIM), 163 rights, 36, 57, 69–71, 115, 166, 172, 192

338 International Relations in South Asia basic, 57, 59, 159, 260, 262, 279 civil, 3, 257, 260, 263–64, 279 cultural, 266–67 human, 36–37, 67, 69, 71, 128, 153, 156, 158, 260, 262, 267, 276, 279, 282, 321, 324 minority, 22, 66, 68, 267 political, 111, 263 and security linkages, 259–68 samaj movements, 60, 70 Samyukta Janamorcha (United People’s Front), 161 Sarkar, P.R., 59–60 Scott, James, 79, 83, 85 sea-lanes of communication (SLOCs), 221, 223 sea-launched cruise missile programme, India, 219 secessionist movements, 30–31, 116, 129, 163 security concept of, 36, 252, 259, 268 dilemmas and state, 24–33 human, 258–67, 274, 286–87, 291 perception, 240–46 perception of Pakistan on Kashmir issue, 241–42, 244–46, 250 positive, 262 positive and negative, 262–63 rights and, 259–68 state-centric conceptualization of, 37 security, in South Asia agenda for, 286–90 conceptual framework, 273–77 empowerment and, 289 human, 258–67, 274, 286–87, 291 mainstreaming and, 289 networking and, 290 paradoxes, 273, 277–83 profile of South Asian countries, 279–81

redefining, 273–75 reinforcement and, 290 and rights linkages, 252–68 and stakeholders, 285–86 stakes and gaps in, 276–77, 285–86 structural conflict and, 275 crisis and, 275 insecurity and, 275–76 synergizing and, 290 three-track strategy, 286, 288–92 Security building measures (SBM), 276–77, 291 security problematique, in Third World, 91–93, 96–102 security studies causes of war and conditions of peace, 93–94, 96 neorealism assumptions, 94–96 policies on nuclear issue, 95 in political realism, 92–93 power-centric and policy-oriented nature, 92 self-help and nuclear deterrence policies, 94–95 in South Asia, 90–106 South Asian security policies, 102–05 strong-weak state legitimacy crisis, 96–102 theoretical considerations, 92–96 Third World security problematique, 91–93, 96–102 self-help system, 93–94, 181–83, 186, 199 Sen, Amartya, 135–36, 287 Siddiqa, Ayesha, 35, 38, 90 Sikh nationalism, 22 Singapore School (Asian values concept), 84 Sinhala nationalism, 30, 197–98, 311, 325 Sinhalese majoritarian unitarism, 115

Index 339 social crime and violence insecurity, 284 socially-basic right, 278 South Asia Asianization, 75–76, 144, 146 colonial rule, 142 convergent issue, 143 creating peoples’ movements, 69–70 crisis syndrome and insecurity, 271–72 cultural history, 68 culture and identity, 144–45 denationalizing of self, economy and identity, 69 development of legal structures, 70 distant futures and alternative for, 51–70 economic and cultural confederation, 68 economies, 142–43 epistemological boundaries, 52–57 colonial thought, 53 contextual visions, 56–57 expert-based knowledge, 53–54 idealism and quest for modernity, 55–56 nation-state relations, 55 neo-realism and developmentalism, 55 neo-realism and mutual trust, 53 state-oriented framework, 52–53 ethnicity and violence in, 180, 194–205, 256–58 free trade, self-reliance and localism, 70 globalization impact, 66, 68 human rights regime, 69 human security, 258–67

India-Pakistan conflict, 179–80, 189–94 insecurity and crisis syndrome, 271–72 phenomenon, 252–58 physical, 253 political, 254 socio-economic, 253–54 sources, 283–86 structural, 275–76, 283–85 intellectual style, 54–55 intra-state and inter-state conflicts, 178–205 constructivism paradigm, 178–79, 182, 186–89, 205 realism and neorealism paradigms, 178–87, 205 long-term issues, 69–70 peace in, 68–69 possible scenarios, 63–68 breakdown into numerous states, 66 continued ethnic violence, 63 cultural intertwining, 65–66 dramatic transformation or rupture, 64 free trade and efficient government, 64–65 hegemony by one actor, 64 high-tech model village, 65 nuclear war, 65 poverty crisis in, 272 regionalism in, 15, 17, 287 religious and cultural expression right, 70 security agenda, 286–90 conceptual framework, 273–77 empowerment and, 289 human, 258–67 mainstreaming and, 289 networking and, 290 paradoxes, 273, 277–83

340 International Relations in South Asia policies, 102–05 profile of South Asian countries, 279–81 redefining, 273–75 reinforcement and, 290 and rights linkages, 252–68 and stakeholders, 285–86 stakes and gaps in, 276–77, 285–86 structural conflict and, 275 structural crisis and, 275 structural insecurity and, 275–76 studies in, 90–106 synergizing and, 290 three-track strategy, 286, 288–92 security policies analysis of regimes of practices, 104 national identity and, 103–05 state-society dichotomy, 102–03 states in crisis and subalternity, 271–92 theory of knowledge model, 51–53 transparency, 70, 147, 170, 174, 288 visions of future, 57–63 acceptance of differences instead of forced unity, 59 decentralization of power and economy, 59 empowerment and reconstitution of women, 60–61 end of sovereignty, 59 environment focussed, 57 Gandhian, 60 institutionalization of power and knowledge, 62–63 Islamic socialism, 58 partnership between nations and traditions, 62

pure and ideal Islamic polity, 58–59 redefine security and sovereignty, 61 return to village economy, 60 self-governing communities, 58 shift from argument to entrepreneurship, 63 social design of future, 59 social movements and ideologies, 59–60 South Asian Union, 61–62 sustainable development model, 57 water regime, 69 Westphalian state in, 127–47 South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation (SAARC), 64 sovereignty, concept of, 20, 26, 31–32, 59, 61, 68, 116–17, 128–31, 140–42, 158–59, 187, 205, 273, 279, 293, 307–08, 311, 314–17 Spivak, Gayatri, 19, 21, 133–34 Sri Lanka cultural essentialism, 318 democratic state formation, 118–20 ethnic conflict in, 307 ethnic conflict resolution and democratic reform, 120–22 through federalism, 111, 120, 122–24, 126 through negotiation, 113–14 ethnicity and violence in, 196–98 humiliation and stripping of women, 313–27 marginality and state violence, 310–11 military security hegemonic practice, 309 peace process in, 110–11, 126

Index 341 politics and post-conflict state, 113–18 post-conflict political reform, 123–24 protracted social conflict and, 113–18 re-working founding charter of polity, 125 safeguards against majoritarianism, 124–25 state-community relations, 306–27 state re-making and, 31, 110–26 territorial and ethnic identity, 307–09 transformatory peace, 112 under war for peace condition, 307, 320 state formation, 115, 130–31 associational basis of, 33 building process, 100–02, 115 community conflicts, 33 and community relations, 306–27 identity of, 130 ideology and nationalism, 21 making, 101–02 productive effect, 306 security dilemma., 34–35 and security dilemmas, 24–33 sovereignty, 128, 140, 308 strong, 27 system efficacy, 17 strong power, 99–100 strong states, 91, 96–98 structural realism, 182–85, 210 subordinate systems and regional worlds, 84–87 Surface-to-air missiles (SAM) programme, 219 Tagore, Rabindranath, 20, 34, 134–36

Tamil nationalism, 115–16, 124, 197, 307 territorial defence, 225–26, 229 territoriality, concept of, 20, 129, 131, 195, 197 territorial nationalism, 22, 179, 196, 199 Third World intra-state conflicts, 96 legitimacy crisis of states, 96, 100– 02 security problematique, 91–93, 96–102 traditional IR, 18–21 two-nation theory, 131, 193 United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), 253, 264 Universal Declaration on Human Rights, 128 University Grants Commission (UGC), India, 5–6 Uyangoda, Jayadeva, 29, 31, 33, 39 vernacularization, concept, 14 warfare, 27, 96, 163, 183, 216, 244, 249, 315 weak states, 27, 91, 96–97, 166 characteristics, 97 historic-civic legitimacy, 98–99 legitimacy crisis, 100, 102 model, 101, 103 natural legitimacy, 99 reasons of weakness, 98–99 and strong power, 99–100 welfarism concept, 263–65 Western imperialism and civilization, 136 Western IR, 24 Western nation-state, 29 Westphalian state bondage, 134–37

342 International Relations in South Asia freedom, 134–37 Gemeinschaft vs. Gesellschaft, 130–32, 143 nationalism, 134–37 post-colonial theory, 132–34 post-Westphalian world

directions, 137–40 European Union and, 140–42 in South Asia, 18–19, 25, 28–29, 32, 34, 127–47, 128–147 World Trade Organization (WTO), 297, 301–03