The IHT ran a heartfelt piece today about the recent extremist attacks in Mumbai, India. It’s worth noting because it affects the reader on a number of levels. For one, it gives a certain amount of insight into the collective Indian psyche in the aftermath of the attacks. For another, it tries to categorize the incident, to digest it in terms of the broader strategic realities that now face India’s leadership.
The article hits a lot of nails on the head. It’s passionate in the way it captures the emotion of the attackers, the victims and the onlookers. It asks the right questions, particularly about the Indian government’s response to the attacks and whether it was strong enough. And it was moving, which itself seems to count for a great deal in the wake of an attack like this.

Source: http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2008/11/28/mumbaielite460.jpg
But the article is also in danger of responding to the Mumbai hostage crisis in the wrong way. It risks making the same mistakes the U.S. made on September 12, 2001. By dramatizing the incident, by raising the notion that the crisis somehow ushers in an entirely new age of history (“the uniqueness of now”), the author paves the way for a public response that could spiral out of control, losing all sense of proportion. This is just the response that the U.S. had after the Twin Towers fell. Americans felt insecure, which was natural. But they attributed the 9/11 attacks to, as President George W. Bush said, “enemies of freedom” who were irrational and desired only the destruction of the U.S. and its way of life. It was an explanation that seemed to fit the scale and surprising nature of the act.
This epic vision of terrorism is misguided. Not only does it play to the terrorists’ desires, who would like nothing more than to be recognized as the greatest threat to the world’s only superpower; not only has terrorism been proven, time and again, to be a rational tactic employed by completely ordinary individuals; it also implicitly calls for a massive retaliatory response. If terrorism poses such a grave threat, then resistance is absolutely necessary. And to ensure security, that threat must be wholly destroyed. And that means war.
“War” is exactly how President Bush saw the attacks of 9/11, and it is exactly how the author of this article sees the Mumbai crisis today:
As a surprise attack became a 48-hour struggle, the burden of responding transferred from the police to soldiers. The language was of war: television anchors spoke of buildings “sanitized” and “flushed out,” of “final assaults” and “collateral damage.” Helicopters hovered over Mumbai, and commandos dropped onto roofs. The grainy television imagery suggested not so much a terrorist attack as the shapeless, omnidirectional chaos of Iraq.
The reference to Iraq is intriguing, because although the article draws the right comparison, it comes to the wrong conclusions. If anything, the experience of Iraq should have taught us how inadequate the “war” metaphor is for describing the work of anti-terrorism. As a term, “war” defines a purely military venture. But—and the new American strategy in Iraq backs this up—force is the not the only tool in the toolbox.
Terrorism is perhaps best pursued as a law-enforcement issue rather than a “war” issue. “Law-enforcement” implies extended time horizons and broad-based strategy, whereas “war” connotes a need for the swift destruction of “the enemy”—an artificial concept that assumes a finite number of hostiles. The non-military approach suggests a better capacity to operate patiently and flexibly on a multilateral basis, whereas a military’s ultimate job is simply to shoot things.
Don’t get me wrong. The military can be a very effective tool under a variety of conditions. But let’s not forget the other resources at our disposal. Let’s not forget that the “war” against terrorism is about more than body counts. Let’s not forget that, as tragic as the attack in India was, life will go on. We cannot live under a wartime mentality indefinitely. Just as we can’t allow our lives to be dominated by fear, so must we deny our fear the opportunity to define our responses to terrorism. I would argue that the U.S. failed in this respect, and the Indians are on the verge of making the same mistake, seven years later:
[India's mood was that] of a country that wanted [Mumbai] to be 9/11—if not in the sense of war and conquest, then in the sense of instant clarity, of the simple feeling that an era had ended.
Let’s not kid ourselves. It’s never that simple.