Author: KPS Gill
Publication: The Pioneer
Date: December 1, 2001
It is interesting to discover, in
the rout of the Taliban and the resurgence of a free Afghan people, the
anatomy of a terrorised society. At the end of under two months of war,
we discover only two pockets of serious resistance to the US-Northern Alliance
(NA) blitz-Kunduz and Kandahar. The largest estimates of total Taliban
forces in these locations stood at under 30,000.
Even among these, the Afghans themselves-numerically
the greatest component of these forces-were far from committed to the extremist
vision, and showed themselves not only willing, but eager to arrive at
a settlement with the new powers in the war ravaged nation (as, indeed,
they did eight years ago, in the face of the Pakistan-backed sweep of the
Taliban across their country). The only elements of serious resistance
were, in fact, the foreign terrorists-the Arabs, the Pakistanis, the Chechens,
the Algerians, the Philippinos, and the smattering of other nationalities
among the "lunatics of Allah" who were actually willing to die for their
"cause"; and at least part even of their "commitment", in these last engagements,
would be the result of their fear of reprisals and the repeated assertion
by the NA leaders that, while Afghan Taliban could be forgiven and accommodated,
the foreigners would be mistaken if they expected any mercy.
There is more than overwhelming
evidence, moreover, that the defeat and the flight of the Taliban has been
greeted with enormous relief, even unconstrained delight, by the mass of
people in Afghanistan. How, then, is it that a few thousand foreign fanatics
and mercenaries, backed by a small number of no more than compliant locals,
could enslave a nation of 26 million for nearly eight years of unrelieved
suffering? A nation, moreover, that is celebrated for its proud, combative,
unyielding and warlike people?
There has, in every theatre of terrorist
violence, certainly in South Asia and in other parts of what is referred
to as the Third World, been a general, albeit implicit, assumption of popular
support to terrorist movements far in excess of what actually exists on
the ground or among the societies on whose behalf the terrorists claim
to speak. Such assumptions are apparently ratified by the public statements
of many leaders and even of the "common people" and the local media, from
time to time. And yet, they are utterly false-though this fact can only
be confirmed after the terror has been conclusively defeated. This is precisely
what happened in Punjab. In the end-Eighties, I recall many a muddle-headed
"liberal" arguing that "we" had lost the hearts of the "people of Punjab",
and so there was little sense in holding on to a piece of land. Thousands,
at times even hundreds of thousands, assembled in bhog ceremonies of slain
terrorists, and the media pointed to this intractable evidence of the mass
support that the Khalistanis enjoyed. But by 1992, when the terrorists
were in open flight, there was visible elation in the streets, as markets
began to remain open late into the evenings, and I recall the sheer jubilation
that marked the first "musical night"-organised by the Punjab police at
Tarn Taran-that was attended by thousands of people rediscovering their
freedom. It was the same sense of relief that was visible among the crowds
thronging the broken-down cinema halls in Kabul to stand in the midst of
collapsed seats through a projection of the only film available-a documentary
on the mujahideen who drove out the Russian forces from Afghanistan in
the 1980s.
The truth is the impact of the introduction
of sophisticated and extremely lethal weaponry, in the hands of people
who have no qualms in using it ruthlessly against civilians for the purposes
of creating terror, cannot even be imagined except by those who have actually
experienced it. It is nonsense to talk about the 'will of the people' under
the shadow of the gun. There is, in fact, a "societal Stockholm Syndrome",
a pattern of submission, resignation, acceptance and eventual justification
that becomes a necessary survival strategy under extreme, lawless and pervasive
threat. Terrorism-even by small but well armed, and especially externally
supported groups-has the capacity to produce, in large masses of men, a
widespread belief in the futility of resistance and a loss of faith in
the state and its agencies and their ability to protect life, liberty and
property. These patterns of thought gradually create a denial among the
people of their own fear, and an increasing justification of the terrorist
cause. However outrageous the extremist demands may be, the "logic" of
these demands begins to find sympathetic echoes among the people, the media
and the "secular" or "moderate" leadership as well. Gradually, this is
also translated into an increasing willingness to provide, at least, non-terrorist
support to the activities of the terrorists-feeding, harbouring, sympathetic
bandhs, dharnas and protests, the creation and operation of Front Organisations
that take up the "cause" of the "human rights" of arrested terrorists,
etc.
To believe that these are the acts
of a free people, willingly undertaken, is to utterly and completely misunderstand
the very nature of terrorism. Indeed, the most tragic, the most pathetic,
symbols of terrorism are not the mutilated corpses that are so often projected
through the media, but the images of members of the Dukhtaran-e-Millat
singing paeans to their own enslavement and the homage that the Hurriyat
pays, from time to time, to the mehmaan mujahideen, the foreign mercenaries,
and to Pakistan, whose ambitions and machinations kill thousands of innocent
Kashmiris every year.
One of the tasks of an administration
in a region emerging from terror is the "de-terrorisation" of the society.
This is not simply a question of lifting the irrational restrictions and
the pervasive sense of threat that the terrorist oppressors had imposed.
In Afghanistan, even the symbolic acts of men shaving off their beards
and a few women venturing out tentatively without their burkhas, were crucial
events in the reassertion of a freedom that had been totally surrendered.
But the enslavement of a mind in terror goes much deeper than these externalities.
It can only be countered by a gradual process of psychological reconstruction,
a restoration of confidence in the institutions and instrumentalities of
a free society, the reassertion, among the people, of their ability to
think independently, to take their own decisions, and to accept responsibility
for their own destinies.
Where the conflict has not entirely
ended-and it is far from over in Afghanistan-this task is even more difficult.
As the tide began to turn in Punjab, we had made efforts to bring the people
into the movement against terrorism. But even where there was little sympathy
for the terrorist cause, there was almost insurmountable resistance. I
recall the first village that eventually joined the counter-terrorism effort.
It was located near Jalandhar district, and had a mixed population, as
well as a number of gun licence holders. Our initial efforts to organise
them into a Village Defence Committee to fight back against the marauding
terrorists met with sullen and obdurate opposition. It was only through
constant visits, day after day, by a group of senior police officers, that,
after almost a month of ceaseless motivation, the Village decided to join
in the self-protection scheme. The project was a success, and became a
model that was emulated, first by surrounding villages, and later all over
the State. It is this gradual and participatory restoration of faith in
the institutions of governance that is the most important task in the reconstruction
of a society ravaged by terror.
