https://m.thewire.in/article/security/general-naravane-sets-the-cat-among-the-pigeons
Naravane sets the cat among the pigeons
On the current-day controversy over General Naravane’s unpublished memoirs, Four Stars of Destiny, one of India’s leading strategic commentators, Lt. Gen. HS Panag – who was once a frontline commander at the tactical and operational levels in Ladakh - has this to say: “The primary reason for not formalising national security strategy (NSS) and policy and written political directives in times of crisis by successive governments is to avoid accountability.”
He couches his comment on the military’s current political master by bracketing its mealy-mouthed guidance to the army chief – “Jo ucchit samjho voh karo” – with other such memorable dodges by successive governments. Genuflecting to the times, he refers inter-alia to a joint secretary memorably conveying Nehru’s desire that the chiefs ‘throw the Chinese out.’ An instance that missed mention was at the launch of Operation Parakram when General ‘Paddy’ Padmanabhan was told words to the effect, “Aap chaliye. Hum bataenge.” This places the regime in good company.
Panag is right in respect of successive Indian governments in general. Not having a written NSS prevents their actions to be gauged against it; thereby, preventing accountability.
However, since this regime claims to have broken with the defensive-reactive past through a strategic shift to pro-activism, there must logically be something more than that clubs it on this score with preceding governments.
Ladakh revisited
General Naravane’s version of Operation Snow Leopard - the mobilisation and the occupation of heights in late-August 2020 - shows up strategic diffidence at multiple junctures. The mobilisation itself was the tamest of options the regime had in face of the Chinese intrusion, and, further, it chose the least provocative of options on what to do with the forces mobilised.
In face of the intrusion, the first option was counter-grab action, a straight-forward counter attack, that all ground-holding corps are presumably capable of. Since India’s own ‘pivot’ to China since a decade prior, surely it had the capability in location. The response ought to have been reflexive. It wasn’t.
The second are grab actions in riposte, with objectives not necessarily confined to the front in Ladakh but also in the North East. Notably, the Chinese were provocative also in north Sikkim, allowing us an opening, which we chose to ignore. Only the previous autumn, the eastern command had given itself the wherewithal for such an option in Arunachal Pradesh.
As for the mobilisation itself, the military should have been given an end-state to materialise the advertised aim: ‘status quo ante.’ If and since mobilisation itself could not have been expected to work, military pressure was required in tandem with the other vectors of national power, such as diplomatic and economic, to roll-back the Chinese.
Instead, the mobilisation was only to contain the intrusion; which, in the event, had already ended. In short, the mobilisation did not deter the further intrusion; the Chinese – satiated – were static.
Next, the mobilised military’s contingency plans awaited a further trigger by the Chinese. There are three versions ‘out there’ of what happened next. One, General Naravane sticks to the line fed to the media at the time, that it was to pre-empt any further Chinese missteps. Why the Chinese would do so in face of a mobilised Indian military is moot. Excessive prudence is self-evident in this ‘wait-and-watch’ strategy.
Two, this line is not borne out by the army commander on the spot. General ‘Jo’ Joshi has it that the Indian military action in late August with the mobilised troops was a clean-slate operation. Such an operational feat can only have had a strategic level ‘go-ahead.’
However, not acknowledging the approval shows up an illogical reticence in political masters. If an after-the-fact cooked-up story, this line could have allowed the regime to take credit. But even prospects of an embellished image hasn’t moved the regime to appropriating ownership, as is its wont in regard to all and sundry.
The third is anecdotal, which holds that the specialised troops on hand espying renewed Chinese activity, apprehended that it constituted the ‘trigger’ for the contingency plan and scrambled to the heights. A responsive chain of command then pushed the envelope, successfully pitching for expansion of the operation and delegation of leeway.
Naravane’s orders in his words, were: “I had clear orders not to open fire.” Only firing in self-defence for self-protection was permitted. Lifting of the terms of reference ought to have been worked into the contingency plans, progressive lifting of strictures being infeasible in fast developing situations. He mentions debates in the run-up on this, implying a strategic level pushback being denied at the political level.
Naravane mentions his unsuccessful penultimate effort at the China Study Group meeting and his final-lap effort that succeeded - telephonically with the Cabinet Committee on Security to roll-back the unrealistic constraint.
An apologist might have it that the last-minute delegation to the army to do what’s necessary, shows gumption in the regime to chance war. Contrarily, here too is visible a strain of uncharacteristic self-effacement on the regime’s part. It’s cryptic response allowed it a distancing enough to palm-off any adverse outcome on the military.
Such queasiness on its part can well be viewed as abdication. That Naravane perceived his marching orders as such is implicit in his now-famous line: “I had been handed a hot potato.” His book’s publication held up, shows up a squeamish regime.
Critics of Naravane’s straining at the leash have it that he could have shouldered the responsibility to disregard orders. The definition of ‘terms of reference’ escapes such critics: over-arching and cannot be bypassed without reference to the higher echelon imposing these. They miss that contingency plans were self-limiting on account of such war-avoidance strictures.
Besides, for Naravane to rewrite his orders unilaterally would only allow further distancing of the regime from escalatory outcomes. Since escalation would necessarily involve other resources as the air force, it was not a decision that Naravane could have arbitrarily wrested. What was the role of regime-favourite General Rawat, then Chief of Defence Staff, is not covered by posthumously published hagiographies.
Finally, the effect of orders to be non-provocative was in the tamest of options being exercised: occupying un-held heights in our own territory. If the troops could take the ridgeline, surely they could have rolled down on the other side too, where a strategic prize lay: Rodok. Alternatively, the military could have recaptured grabbed land, in an albeit-delayed riposte.
It is clear that to the political level the mobilisation was intended as a rerun of Op Parakram: a post-facto hustle-bustle touted as succeeding in deterring the Chinese. To its eternal credit, the late-August not-quite-politically-blessed feat-of-arms was the army’s bid to retrieve reputational costs.
Accountability, anyone?
What accounts such over-weening strategic restraint and taciturnity on part of the regime, that otherwise luxuriates in both on the other, western, front?
The answer is at the grand strategic and political levels.
At the former level, we have two points made by minister Jaishankar to go on. Jaishankar had earlier clarified the regime’s grand strategy, saying, “Look, they (China) are the bigger economy. What am I going to do? As a smaller economy, I am going to pick up a fight with the bigger economy? It is not a question of being reactionary, it’s a question of common sense….” Perhaps Jaishankar schooled the prime minister on his ‘war is history’ thesis.
The second is quoted by Naravane: “The longer the talks draw out, the better, as the positions we now hold become semi-permanent and in time, it will become the “new status quo”... We should be prepared to continue with our forward deployment not only for this winter but for as long as it takes, even years, if necessary… (p. 308, italics added)”
Naravane cites Jaishankar as standing against ‘partial solutions’ and for ‘principled positions’ in the military-to-military talks (p. 306). Clearly, this makes for unending talks.
Taken together, the regime is shown up as determined not to take up cudgels with China, citing power differentials. Sushant Singh, who brought Naravane’s perspective back into the reckoning, argues that the power differential is unlikely to be narrowed. So what’s the purpose of a ‘new status quo’?
The answer is necessarily to be probed for at the political level. The primacy of the regime’s political project keeps the regime from taking on the Chinese. It cannot afford a diversion, leave alone a defeat. Such prioritisation obviously cannot be put down in writing in an NSS.
Further and more importantly, what differentiates this regime from preceding governments is that it cannot possibly say out loud (as yet) what the ingredients of a chapeau for any NSS are - its vision and aims. Doing so would place any such NSS afoul of Constitutional accountability. Thus, for the regime, not having an NSS helps it duck accountability in a far more significant way.