The desire for empire

The idea of an Empire is not repugnant even among those who profess commitment to democracy. This is evident from the U.S. actions in Iraq.

Is it not brave to be a king And ride in triumph through Persepolis?

TAMBURLAINE, in Marlowe's play Tamburlaine the Great, was putting in words what is a yearning in almost every human being - the desire to wield power, the desire for pomp and circumstance, for kingship, for empire. To rule over men, decide their destinies - it is this that has caused the many wars that history records. Alexander, Attila, Genghis Khan and Timur (the Tamburlaine in Marlowe's play) were conquerors who were able to satisfy this most primitive and most intense of man's instincts; and there have been many other lesser warlords who have done much the same on a smaller scale.

There have also been the emperors who have done all that these did but added a dimension to it. Ashoka conquered his enemies and established an empire; but he ruled that empire through laws, only some of which have come down to us in fragments. Akbar inherited a kingdom and made it into an empire but, again, ruled it with laws and an administrative system that survived for centuries in one form or the other. None of them, however, ever considered himself anything other than what he was - the Emperor, the Shahenshah.

The Roman empire was something slightly different; for quite some time, it professed it was essentially a republic, and the Senate was the body that passed laws and governed. But they had their colonies all over Europe, West Asia and parts of Northern Africa, colonies ruled through consuls who were no different from kings, except that in some matters they took orders from Rome and were replaced from time to time. The pretence of being a republic collapsed, of course, when Augustus made himself Emperor, and the word Caesar came to symbolise Empire. Every emperor after him called himself Caesar, and centuries later, as late as the early years of the last century, Germans called their emperor Kaiser.

The British were a curious lot. At home they were vociferous about the rights of Parliament to legislate, to reform, to rule through a Prime Minister; increasingly the monarch was forced to hand over power to Parliament. And yet they thought nothing of establishing a mighty Empire overseas, ruled by Viceroys and Governors-General. Except that while they wielded power, they also gave the subject colonies education, and the beginnings of health services, of roads, and, above all, the rule of law, justice (however summary) and order.

The object in providing an account of empires is only to highlight that even among those who professed commitment to democratic ideals, as in 19th century Britain, the idea of an Empire was not repugnant; it was a sort of safety valve, giving Victorian society a means of satisfying that urge that Tamburlaine voiced so eloquently.

The dichotomy was accepted without too much question; after all, Britain was - and still is, technically - a monarchy. The contradiction was glossed over by professions, mainly by those who ruled the colonies, that when the `natives' were ready they would be given their freedom. Even today we have, inscribed above one of the doors of North Block of the Central Secretariat in Delhi something that was thought up by such men. It reads `Liberty does not descend to a people, a people must raise themselves up to liberty. It is a privilege that must be earned before it can be enjoyed.' This was, of course, applicable to the `natives', not to the British themselves, by no means. That would be unthinkable.

IT is not, therefore, difficult to understand what the Americans are doing in Iraq. For some generations after their bloody Civil War they chose to look inward rather than at the rest of the world - witness the Monroe Doctrine - but after the Second World War they could not maintain their isolation. But a number of U.S. Presidents kept their country focussed on what it was, what its essential character was, and this was made easier, paradoxically, because of its antagonism to what it perceived as the totalitarian, dictatorial enemy, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.

But the USSR disintegrated; the rhetoric of freedom being imperilled by a monstrous superpower became irrelevant. And, fairly rapidly, the desire for power, the desire to rule over others, began to grow among those who wielded political power in the U.S. Not just among the Presidents; among those who were a part of the power structure. The structures that carried on as Presidents - powerful or weak, clever or stupid - came and went; the Pentagon, the National Security Council, the Central Intelligence Agency and other institutions and agencies that were supported and kept going by an infrastructure of professional people among whom the desire for power became more and more open. `The damn Palestinians' `the damn Afghans' `the damn Iraqis' were, one can readily imagine, phrases that were used more and more frequently in meetings and discussions.

To include in this desire for Empire different Presidents was not a very difficult job for the most part, but some, like Clinton, were clearly cleverer than the rest and resisted the pressure put on them to begin the process of establishing their own Empire. But Reagan, and now, George W. Bush, were pushovers; the latter in particular. He did all that he was asked to do, including landing on an aircraft carrier dressed like a fighter pilot, to declare - to the assembled crew of the carrier - that he had won the war in Iraq.

He duly appointed a pro-consul, Paul Bremer III. And then as the months passed, the inevitable happened. To rule you have to have the mind of a ruler; you need to have the abilities of Ashoka, or Akbar, or Warren Hastings. Clerks in Washington are not the best substitutes. They have done what was all they could - think small, react nervously or with a viciousness far in excess of what was needed, and the armed forces in Iraq became a law unto themselves. The killing of Iraqis became, and continues to be, wanton; hundreds are being killed almost every week. In Falluja, they deliberately called in fighter aircraft and missile firing helicopters to destroy residential areas and kill hundreds of women and children, and ordinary Iraqis who were merely going about their day-to-day business. The U.S. spokesmen do intone that they try their best to avoid civilian casualties and express their regret over `collateral damage'. But these are obviously declarations that are untrue; or else their pilots are inept and cannot aim at any target with certainty.

And inevitably, the Americans are a hated lot in Iraq; if Bush and his men succeeded in nothing else, they succeeded in uniting the Iraqis in their hatred of Americans. That hatred is far more intense than it was when Saddam Hussein was in power, and it is from the fierceness of this hatred that an organised resistance will grow and continue to harry the Americans as long as they are there. That harrying may not be in Iraq alone; it may be anywhere in the world, and in the U.S. as well. It is this vulnerability, and consequent onset of an era of fear, that George W. Bush has gifted to his fellow citizens.