A President and a Field Marshal

No one knows if the goat cheese gateau and burnt cipollini soubise the White House chef served at the famous Donald Trump-Asim Munir lunch were to the Pakistani field marshal’s liking, but it is more than evident that this breaking of bread in Washington has set the cat among some very nervous strategic pigeons in New Delhi.

The knee-jerk reaction is to pooh-pooh a very consequential event. The Pakistani newspaper Dawn reports that “the meeting was not arranged through routine diplomatic channels, and was the outcome of ‘unorthodox efforts’ by a group of advisers, businessmen and other influential figures.”

The same (verbatim) assessment is then passed off by the Indian Express's reporter as the insight of unnamed 'sources', presumably to reinforce the idea of un-kosher lobbies at work. 

This is fine as an expression of the Indian foreign office's – and media establishment's – disdain for an event that is an embarrassment for the ‘vishwaguru’ coming so soon after Operation Sindoor. But sadly, no one in South Block remembers Deng Xiaoping’s working axiom: it does not matter if the cat is black or white as long as it catches the mice. But, then, who can deny us our right to wallow in self-righteousness.

Our current bewilderment at a democratically elected president hosting a self-promoted field marshal can easily be traced back to a misreading of American historical traditions. American society has always held the military man in high esteem; the very first president of the United States was the victorious general George Washington.

After World War II, when the United States arrogated to itself the role of policeman of the new global order, the use of the military force and armed intervention became the most legitimate instrument at the disposal of the American presidents.

In the famous spat between President Harry Truman and General Douglas MacArthur (called “America’s most talented general of this – the 20th – century” by Henry Kissinger), American public opinion was not entirely behind the White House. And, the election of a victorious general, Dwight Eisenhower, in the 1952 presidential election was a reaffirmation of a tradition of awe and reverence for the man in fatigues.

Indeed, generals and admirals have always found their way to key decision-making slots as the US got busy quelling (or starting) fires around the world.

It came naturally for American diplomacy not to regard the generals in Asia, Africa or Latin America as un-touchable. Influential intellectual voices like Samuel Huntington theorised about the stabilising role of the military in the Third World as newly liberated countries experimented with freedom and chaos. This notion of the military’s institutional usefulness has been a constant consideration in the US approach towards Pakistan.

We have always thought we were Washington’s preferred partner because we are a “democracy”, and self-servingly felt disappointed that its affection was equally shared between “a democratic India” and a “dictatorial Pakistan”.

In his memoir Nice Guys Finish Second, B.K. Nehru, then our man in Washington, talks of having been invited to an exclusive, ‘coming out of mourning’ party held by Jackie Kennedy. The date was September 22, 1965. India and Pakistan were at war; the Indian army was getting the better of (yes, the first) Field Marshal Ayub Khan’s fauj.

At Jackie’s party, B.K. Nehru collared US secretary of defense, Bob McNamara, who obviously was keeping track of the fighting and knew that Pakistan was getting a bloody nose. Nehru writes:

“He [McNamara] went on to say that something had to be done to restore the morale of the Pakistani Army. I said, ‘Surely, Bob, you aren’t going to arm them again, are you?’ He hummed and hawed and said, ‘Well, I don’t know. Perhaps we shall have to.’ The date of this conversation is worth noting; it was three days before the cease-fire.”

The American establishment had long concluded that the Pakistani army was the only organised and competent institution that could provide stability in that country. After all, unlike in India, the Pakistani political class had very little experience of democratic temper and, more importantly, Pakistan did not have a Jawaharlal Nehru – a leader with the mettle and disposition to marshal the energy and imagination of a new nation.

The Americans were not choosy; they would work with anyone who could produce a semblance of order in Pakistan and would not be averse to joining military pacts like SEATO and CENTO.

In recent decades, US policymakers – both Democratic and Republican – have greatly valued the Pakistani army as a highly useful tool for providing security and protection to ruling families in volatile Arab nations.

We in India are free to mock Rawalpindi’s GHQ as a mercenary corps; but the Americans are not prone to sentimentality in matters of realpolitik.    

It is rather late in the day for New Delhi to pretend to be flummoxed that Field Marshal Munir should have been given by Trump the respect becoming of a head of government. Trump has given sufficient notice to one and all around the world that he does not abide by conventions or traditions and that certainly he is not enamoured of the humbuggery that comes so easily to our leadership.

We, of course, are entitled to hold this or that Pakistani general responsible for patronising terror groups; but, the American establishment cannot be faulted for concluding that for better or for worse, Field Marshal Munir’s army remains the only organised force capable of ensuring stability and cohesion. We, indeed, have resented the Americans’ inability – or unwillingness – to see the Pakistan army’s mischievous record.

Many years ago, when he was still on top of his game, President Ayub Khan could note in his diary (August 10, 1967) that “Hindus, of course, are too crafty for the Americans.” He was, in fact, grudging New Delhi’s professional foreign service’s calm and calculated dealings with the bullying Americans.

Five decades later, the first field marshal would be surprised to find his successors to have learnt the difficult art of being deceitful and yet being trusted by the Americans.

We, on the other hand, have become more “Hindu” and less crafty.

Harish Khare was editor of The Tribune.

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