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WITH George W. Bush back in office for a second term, much to the dismay of many across the world who see him as an exemplar for all that is wrong with the US policy, there is bound to be deeper concern for how he, and his administration, will conduct the ‘war on terror’. Even his most ardent supporters, admiring his ability to stand resolute against the spectre of terrorism, are now forced to admit that the plan to make the world safer has gone awry and stands deeply flawed.

Afghanistan, post Taliban, may have recently completed a ‘democratic’ election but it will be years before the country stabilises. And Iraq continues to remain a cauldron of violence despite ‘formal’ power having been transferred to a transitional Iraqi regime. No one is sure whether the scheduled elections in Iraq can be held in time and whether the exercise will ensure some peace and stability to the beleaguered nation. Above all, none of us – not only the US administration – is much wiser about how to conduct a war against terror.

How should a country, and a people, believing themselves to be under attack, their very way of life under siege, behave? ‘What lesser evils may a society commit when it believes the greater evil of its own destruction? Maybe the answers appear easier in a dictatorship or autocracy. The safety of the people is the first law, clearly foregrounding security over liberty. But what in a democracy – priding itself on a constitution, rule of law, human rights and the inalienable freedoms of the individual? What curbs on rights and freedoms is it willing to tolerate before it ceases to be itself? ‘Are there no moral limits to what a republic can do when its existence is threatened?’

These are no abstract, ethical/philosophical questions, but existential concerns facing all societies when confronted with ‘enemies’ that seemingly acknowledge no rules. Pre-emptive strike, overwhelming use of force, suspension of civil liberties and the due process of law in dealing with prisoners, torture – and the list can be expanded – are all terms that have become part of common discourse post 9/11 and the war on terror. They not only foreshadowed the Bush-Kerry contest but, to varying degrees, mirror the debates in each of our societies.

How seriously are we to take the classic civil libertarian argument that rights guaranteed under a democratic constitution and enshrined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights are absolute and cannot be suspended/sacrificed under any circumstances? After all, so the argument goes, if we too break rules and employ violence against our purported enemies, much in the way we claim they act, what is left to distinguish us from them.

A recent book, The Lesser Evil: Political Ethic in an Age of Terror by Michael Ignatieff, provides a panoramic and riveting survey of this age-old conundrum. Ignatieff steers us away from the absolutist standpoints of both the left and right, the statists and the libertarians, forcing us to traverse the morally complicated alleys of practical governance.

In arguing a case for an ethics of balance, he recognises that necessity may require us to take actions in defence of democracy which may stray from democracy’s foundational commitments to dignity, necessarily a morally hazardous exercise. But precisely because the suggested measures are morally problematic, they must be strictly targeted, applied to the smallest number of people, used as a last resort, and kept under the adversarial scrutiny of an open democratic system. Neither rights nor necessity should reign supreme. Further, nations are not moral islands; international standards matter. In short, Ignatieff’s plea is for an ethics of prudence rather than the first principle, a conservative bias against infringements of established standards of due process, equal protection, and basic dignity.

In part, this is what the Bush-Kerry debate on Iraq was all about – specious arguments about imminent threats, WMDs, guilt by association, a branding of nations/peoples as evil, and a callous disregard for ‘collateral damage’. Kerry appeared indecisive because, possibly, he better appreciated the complexities of choice; Bush firmer because he was ‘morally convinced’.

In any rational debate, Bush should have lost. Many in his core constituency have had to pay the price of war. But he won, and decisively. Possibly because, passions far outweigh interests when choosing/voting. Bush’s ability to invoke fear and promise an effective deterrent won him the day.

Can one hope that when our political leaders debate our war on terror, propose laws like POTA, put regions under the Armed Forces Special Powers Act, brand entire communities/religions as anti-national, that our interlocutors will subject the proposals/decisions to a rigorous scrutiny? If not, our future as a modern democracy stands compromised.

Harsh Sethi