The Paradigm Shift

Thursday, 30th September 2008

Thursday, 30th September 2008

The Pentagon, Department of Defense, Washington DCIn the Operations Center at the Pentagon, the red pulse flashing on Officer Davies’ computer screen signalled an incoming message. She typed a response and the encryption was ready for translation. Although deciphering messages was part of her regular daily routine she was feeling the strain. Her colleagues around the room looked on anxiously as she set about breaking the encryption.

The Pentagon building itself was originally built during the early years of World War II and this room was the nerve centre for monitoring all overseas threats to the US government’s national security. Under the supervision of the CIA, it was also responsible for handling the joint covert activities of the US military intelligence services. Apart from the occasional surprise training drill, in real life it was extremely rare that the Operations Centre reached this high state of alert. The panel at the front of the room indicated that they were one step away from putting the United States on full nuclear standby. Officer Davies tried to clear her mind of all extraneous thoughts and focus solely on the task at hand. Behind her stood Colonel Dan Schwartz, Head of Overseas Intelligence.

“Source, Davies?” Schwartz barked, before spinning around to locate his Communications Officer.

“Source Amber confirmed, Sir,” Officer Davies replied, continuing to race through the encryption sequences on the terminal in front of her. “I should have authentication in ninety seconds.”

The tension was palpable as the full complement of intelligence and communications officers sat at their stations and waited in anticipation. They each controlled military defence functions that could be activated on the command of Colonel Schwartz.

At a glance, the Operations Center for Overseas Intelligence resembled the theatre used by NASA in controlling the US Space Program. It was similar in size and had rows of computer terminals descending in banks towards the front of the room. At the back of the auditorium was the bridge where Colonel Schwartz was standing, issuing orders as he tried to anticipate the next development. The outstanding feature of the room was the enormous digital screen at the front exhibiting an outline of the world map. The projection, created using the very latest technology, was connected to an array of satellites circling the globe and could be magnified to pinpoint real images on any given geographical grid reference.

“OK, hook me up to the Director and the National Security Advisor,” Schwartz commanded his Communications Officer, still staring at the chart on the screen below him. “I’ll take this conference in my office,” he finished as the junior officer turned on his heels to establish the connection.

At that moment, the computer screen was not connected to the satellites. Instead the digital display highlighted the troop movements in the disputed Jammu and Kashmir region of north-west India. In different colours, the computer image also identified the key military establishments of the hostile nations along the border with Pakistan. The escalating tension in the region had been widely reported in the media over the previous months. Today’s headlines confirmed that the third attempt by the United Nations to impose a peacekeeping force had again ended in failure.

Done it, thought Officer Davies and she hit the print key, ripped the sheet from the printer and turned to face the bridge.

“Message authenticated, Sir.”

Schwartz took the paper and headed down the corridor towards his office, reading the message on the way. In view of recent events he was not shocked by what he read but the ramifications were menacing. As he closed his office door, a voice came through his intercom.

“Colonel Schwartz, I’m connecting you to Director Conway and Security Advisor Allen. You’re on a secure line”

The line crackled before Michael Conway, Director of the CIA, came through loudly on the speaker.

“Are you confirming what we feared, Dan?”

Both the Director and Jim Allen were together at the White House preparing to meet the President.

“I’m afraid so Mike. I’ve got an authenticated message from Agent Amber confirming that India’s activated its nuclear warheads and is preparing to launch an attack. The agent states the attack’s imminent.”

“OK, Dan, Security Advisor Allen and I get the message. Maintain full surveillance - and I’ll speak to you after I’ve seen the President.”

The White House, Washington DCPresident Whiting was in the third year of his first term in office. His strong Republican and family roots were firmly embedded in his home state of Montana, where he was the third generation Whiting to achieve high office. Although state and national politics ran in the family’s blood, he had disappointed his father in his youth by envisaging a career outside the senate. In his college days he had been a promising quarterback and was tipped as a potential star before an injury cut his playing days short. The event made him rethink his future and he elected to continue his studies by reading law at Yale University. The young David Whiting was not a natural achiever in the world of academia but he knew how to apply common sense. After his freshman year, he joined the debating society and his political birthright began to show through. His talent lay in assessing the demands of people quickly and addressing their individual needs in terms they understood.

He was fifty-two now and, looking back, he found it difficult to understand why he had ever questioned the decision to enter politics. On reflection, he put it down to the natural rebellion of a son being compelled to take a path against his will. It was over two years since his election campaign had taken off in the New Hampshire primary when he made his speech extolling the virtues of strong family values. Recognising his gifts as a public speaker, the media intensified their coverage of the Republican candidate from Montana as he swept up the women’s vote. The election’s outcome became inevitable when the exit polls confirmed his commanding lead after the series of televised debates against the Democrat front-runner. The media applauded his statesmanlike performances and, with his wife Pam at his side, the new President of the United States was sworn in.

After building his team, he contrived to maximize the advantage of his honeymoon period in office; the economy required rebuilding and tough decisions were taken to restore ebbing confidence levels. The initial years at the White House were hard but President Whiting drove himself harder. His popularity with the people remained strong as they watched his enterprise and commitment to some of his grander campaign promises.

As he walked from his Oval Office down the corridor to the meeting room, he knew that these domestic issues paled into insignificance compared with the decisions he was about to face now.

“Are we all here?” the President asked as he entered the room. Two security guards held the double doors open for him and swung them shut behind him.

Around the long boardroom table, six men and two women rose to their feet as he waved a hand to tell them to remain seated.

“All present, Mr President,” replied his Chief of Staff, Catherine Dennison.

She had served and supported the President well over the twelve years she had known him. Her integrity and ability to handle the pressure had quickly earned his respect. A slim, athletically built woman of about five feet nine inches, Catherine Dennison cut a striking figure in her trademark killer heels by Jimmy Choo. She looked every bit the media world’s idea of a smart woman executive in a sharp dark blue Calvin Klein trouser suit, which made the lines of her shoulders appear stronger with the jacket’s subtle padding. Still single at the age of forty-two, she looked a lot younger, yet her purposeful and consummately professional air commanded the respect of someone far older.

Catherine had not deliberately avoided marriage. Over the years, several admirers had come close to her but in the end the relationships petered out or turned into friendships as her devotion to the job, and the long hours, took precedence. She looked after herself well and her still-youthful complexion was down to good genes and not a little effort expended in her daily gym work-outs and twice weekly five-kilometre runs. In recent years she had sacrificed regretfully the honey-coloured waist-length shining glory that was hers during her sophomore years in favour of a sharp, shoulder-length bob that epitomised her style and status. She looked a million dollars - and so she should, she often thought as she handed over a hundred-and-ninety bucks for her six-weekly hairdressing sessions. That swanky DC salon was a hell of a long way from her childhood haircuts with a pudding basin in her auntie’s Pittsburgh kitchen!

Apart from Catherine Dennison, around the table were the members of the Executive Committee of the United States of America. The President took his seat at the head of the table and to his left sat Vice President Martins alongside the US Secretary of State, Margaret Henderson. Next to her was Vance Warner, Defense Secretary and then Jim Allen, National Security Advisor and Michael Conway, Director of the CIA. On the President’s immediate right sat Catherine, who was flanked by the three most senior commanders of the US Military Forces: General Graham, Air Marshal Reiger and Admiral Downey.

“Mike, can you repeat our earlier conversation for everyone else’s benefit?” the President looked up inquiringly.

All the faces turned to the other end of the table where Director Conway of the CIA was sitting with his hands clasped on the table in front of him.

“Of course, Mr President,” he replied, nodding his agreement. “As you’re all aware, we’ve been monitoring the increasing hostilities in Jammu and Kashmir. Until yesterday our satellite surveillance indicated that the escalating tensions were of a conventional nature, something we’ve seen before and not an issue that marked the situation down as a possible threat outside the region. Indian ground forces were threatening to cross the heights into North Pakistan and air cover was being provided from military bases in the East Punjab… We’ve monitored similar patterns in the past.”

Director Conway paused to emphasize his next point.

“Since then, though, the situation’s deteriorated substantially with India provoking a nuclear confrontation. We’re now in receipt of intelligence confirming that two mobile nuclear missile launchers have been moved to the mountains of Himachal Pradesh. Our reports indicate that these weapons are being prepared for a direct nuclear attack on the cities of Islamabad and Lahore. If we…”

“We…” the President interrupted him loudly in mid-flow. In the momentary pause that followed the faces switched back towards the head of the table. President Whiting took off his reading glasses and put down the memo he had been reading on the inlaid mahogany surface. “We…” he continued, “have a grave situation that could impact on our own national security. I’d like to take all your assessments before I decide on our government’s response and initial course of action.”

Pausing, he looked pointedly at Director Conway, “Would you like to start by actually sharing your views with us?”

“Mr. President, the hostilities over Jammu and Kashmir have been around for decades. There’ve been many minor skirmishes in the past that have resulted in a regular flow of casualties and losses on each side; both governments have been vocal with their constant rhetoric over the rights to the disputed territory although neither will tolerate third party arbitration or UN intervention.”

Director Conway was aware that the President wanted him to update the others quickly so he made a mental note to summarize matters as succinctly as possible. It was his agency’s views that would form the subject of their debate - not the history lesson.

“However, it’s been generally accepted by my office and I believe that of the Secretary of State’s…” he looked down the table at Margaret Henderson, “…that the war of words has been a political tool used by the Pakistani and the Indian Governments to boost their sagging popularity.”

For many years, India and Pakistan had expended huge sums of money supporting the conflict. Repeatedly, lives were lost as the death toll rose due to the mountainous terrain of the highest battlefields ever seen by a military campaign. Troops were stationed on opposing plateaus of the Siachen Glacier, which soared over twenty-two thousand feet above sea level and where the freezing temperatures reached minus sixty degrees centigrade in the rarefied atmosphere and added considerably to the number of fatalities.

Secretary of State Henderson nodded her concurrence as Conway continued to make his point.

“By focusing on the disputed territory and increasing nationalist tension, the governments are able to rekindle loyalty amongst their people and their supporters by taking a hard line against the alleged transgressor.”

Director Conway hesitated for a second as he collected his thoughts before voicing his own opinion.

“Sir, as I see it, this situation today is different; the current regime is the first non-coalition government since India’s independence in 1947. The Congress Party led by Prime Minister Krishna Banerjee is popular by Indian standards and the area of Jammu and Kashmir has no underlying intrinsic or strategic value.”

The eyes around the table focused on him intently as he reached his preliminary conclusions.

“I would respectfully suggest, Sir, that the objective behind a nuclear attack on Pakistan must be considered to have wider implications than just recapturing worthless land and superfluous electioneering… It has to be an intentional act meant to destabilize world peace… The problem is right now we don’t know what the ulterior motives are or what Banerjee’s future plans could be.”

“The Indian Government must know that a nuclear attack would generate a nuclear counter offensive from Pakistan, so something looks seriously out of place?” interjected General Graham with a degree of irony in his voice. “We need to know why they feel they have the upper hand this time.”

He was not amused at the way this crisis had developed over the past twenty-four hours and he partially blamed Director Conway’s office. He had been in similar situations before and he was still not convinced that the whole situation was any more than filibuster and chest beating on the part of the Indian government.

The President took the General’s views on board. He could be outspoken over sensitive issues but his experience and knowledge of tactical warfare were beyond question. The ribbons on his military dress bore testament to his distinguished career in the field before he was earmarked for high office by the powers that be on Capitol Hill. He was a dogged character, well respected throughout the rank and file. He was considered the army’s leading expert and spokesman in the theories of nuclear engagement. As part of his constant brief to educate the officers below him, he frequently toured the major military establishments giving lectures on the latest debates and the well-catalogued arguments supporting the facts. The driving thrust of modern times was that the bomb’s potential for destruction was the main reason that peace, for the most part, had been maintained since the Second World War. However, it was not a theory he subscribed to and one day he knew it would be extinguished when someone actually pressed the button.

“You’re correct in your assertions, General. You must note that the Indian government’s power base is extremely small,” Director Conway continued, turning to address his remarks to the President.

“Krishna Banerjee’s been in office for just about a year and, despite his public comments that he’s the leader of the largest democracy in the world, he’s not averse to nepotism - he’s promoted all his friends and close family members to key cabinet positions.”

“Are we dealing with someone rational here, Mike?” the President interjected.

“I’m afraid we have an incomplete profile, Sir. We know very little of this man prior to his rise in politics five years ago. His actions in that time suggest a strong autocratic style of leadership, but give no indications of irregular behaviour.”

Defense Secretary Vance Warner leaned forward, placing his palms on the table.

“I think we must assume the following: either they know that Pakistan will retaliate and are prepared for the consequences or they’re calling Pakistan’s bluff.”

“This could be correct, Sir,” opined Director Conway. “Although we’ve been monitoring Pakistan’s nuclear activity, we have reason to believe their detonations might’ve been elaborately staged. Our information’s patchy on this, but if we have our suspicions then so could RAW, the Indian intelligence service.”

“What are you suggesting?” asked the President, incredulous that he was hearing this theory for the first time.

On the table in front of the Chief of Staff, Catherine Dennison, sat the communication server that linked the President to all the major government installations during times of crisis. Before Director Conway had a chance to reply, the computer console started flashing. The accompanying buzzing noise sound signalled an incoming call. Catherine Dennison read the name on the digital display facing her.

“Sir, I have Colonel Schwartz on line from the Pentagon.”

President Whiting nodded at Director Conway to take the call.

“Go ahead, Dan, you’re through to the President.”

“Two nuclear missiles have been launched by India, Sir. Their flight path confirms our information that they’re heading for Islamabad and Lahore. We estimate that they’ll reach their destination in fifteen minutes.”

The comment was met with stunned silence from all in the room. After a few seconds, it was broken by Catherine Dennison acknowledging the message and terminating the communication. The President stood up and looked at the faces around the table before he fixed on the three senior commanders of the US Armed Forces.

“Gentleman, take your status to full alert. I’d like a full brief on our armed capabilities and presence in the region at the earliest possibility.”

Turning to his Secretary of State, he went on, “Margaret, use your diplomatic channels. I need to know all there is to know about this Prime Minister Banerjee immediately.”

The President stood up to leave. As he marched towards the open doors with Dennison and Allen hard on his heels, he stopped and abruptly spun around.

“Mike, d’you mind waiting? There are some additional matters we need to discuss.”

The President’s laconic tone left no one in any doubt about his displeasure. Director Conway nodded his agreement and President Whiting continued in the direction of his office. Down the corridor he could be heard barking instructions to Dennison to connect him to the Prime Minister of Pakistan if it was still possible. Turning to Security Advisor Allen, he asked him to prepare an immediate brief on the stance to be taken by the government. The President had some calls to make. He knew he would have to deal with the media soon, but it was essential that he took the counsel of their main allies before they combined in their united condemnation of India.