Historias Da Gente Brasileira - Mary Del Priore

Superpower Rivalry
in the
Indian Ocean
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SUPERPOWER RIVALRY
IN THE
INDIAN OCEAN
INDIAN AND AMERICAN PERSPECTIVES
Edited by
SELIG S. HARRISON
Carnegie Endowment for International Peace
K. SUBRAHMANYAM
Institute of Defense Studies and Analyses, New Delhi
New York Oxford

OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS
1989
Oxford University Press
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Copyright © 1989 by Oxford University Press, Inc.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Superpower rivalry in the Indian Ocean : Indian and American
perspectives / [edited by] Selig S. Harrison [and] K. Subrahmanyam.
p. cm. Includes index. ISBN 0-19-505497-0
1. Indian Ocean Region—Politics and government. 2. Indian Ocean
Region—Strategic aspects. 3. Indian Ocean Region—Economic
conditions. I. Harrison, Selig S. II. Subrahmanyam, K.
DS341.S94 1989 320.9182'4—dc19 88-1480 CIP
246897531
Printed in the United States of America
on acid-free paper
Preface
Against a background of continuing Soviet-American rivalry in the Indian

Ocean/Persian Gulf region, six American and six Indian experts met in New
Delhi from November 25 to December 1, 1984, for an intensive effort to
bridge growing Indo-American differences over regional military, political,
economic, and arms control issues. Sponsored by the Carnegie Endowment
for International Peace and the Institute of Defense Studies and Analyses,
New Delhi, with the support of the Ford Foundation, the Indo-American
Task Force on the Indian Ocean adopted ten policy recommendations on
June 7, 1985, on the eve of Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi's United States visit
(Appendix A). Addressing the superpowers, the task force outlined guide-
lines for a renewed and broadened Soviet-American arms control dialogue
relating to the Indian Ocean/Persian Gulf region, including negotiations on
naval limitations, an Afghanistan settlement, and mutual restraint in Iran and
Pakistan. At the same time, the task force proposed confidence-building mea-
sures by Washington and New Delhi to manage the tensions resulting from
the continued U.S. naval presence in the region and an expanding Indian
naval role.
The essays in this book originated as working papers for the task force
prepared by six of its members and have subsequently been updated and re-
vised by the authors. The other American members of the group were Gary
Sick, former National Security Council specialist on the Indian Ocean and the
Persian Gulf and author of All Fall Down: America's Tragic Encounter with
Iran; George W. Shepherd, Jr., Professor of International Relations at the
University of Denver and a specialist in the foreign policies of East African
states; and W. Howard Wriggins, Professor of Government at Columbia Uni-
versity and former U.S. Ambassador to Sri Lanka. The other Indian members
were V. S. Mani, Professor of Law at Jawaharlal Nehru University and spe-
cialist in the Law of the Sea; K. R. Singh, Professor of West Asian and Afri-
can studies at Jawaharlal Nehru University and author of The Persian Gulf:
Arms and Arms Control; and M. A. Vellodi, former Secretary of the Minis-
try of External Affairs, Government of India, and Indian representative on
the United Nations' Ad Hoc Committee on the Indian Ocean.
vi Preface
A report on the work of the task force containing selections from its tape-
recorded discussions, India, the United States and the Indian Ocean, was
published in 1985 by the Endowment and the Institute.
Washington, D.C. S. S. H.
New Delhi K. S.
October 1988
Contents
Contributors, ix
Introduction
Selig 5. Harrison, K. Subrahmanyam, 3
1. Emerging Security Issues in the Indian Ocean:
An American Perspective, 12
Walter K. Andersen
Origins of External Interest in the Indian Ocean, 15
Southwest Asia and American Strategy in the Indian Ocean, 27
Missions of the Soviet Navy in the Indian Ocean, 37
Expansion of Littoral Navies, 41
A Superpower "Rivalry"?, 50
2. Emerging Security Issues in the Indian Ocean:

An Indian Perspective, 84
M. P. Awati
The United States, 85
The Soviet Union, 96
India, 101
Other Powers, 107
Moscow, Washington, and Indian Ocean Arms Control, 111
3. Emerging Economic Issues in the Indian Ocean:

An American Perspective, 133
Joel Larus
The 200-Mile Exclusive Economic Zone, 135
The Deep-Seabed Mining of Nodules, 141
The Antarctic Treaty, 153
Redesigning the "Common Heritage" Concept, 160
Viii CONTENTS
4. Emerging Economic Issues in the Indian Ocean:

An Indian Perspective, 168
C. Raja Mohan
The Future in the Oceans, 168
Conflict Over Ocean Resources, 172
Seapower, Resources, and Strategy in the Indian Ocean, 175
Oil, the Gulf, and U.S. Security, 179
The Mythology of Strategic Minerals, 185
Non-Living Resources in the Region, 193
Living Resources in the Region, 200
Antarctic Issues, 200
India's Ocean Policy and the United States, 202
5. Arms Limitation in the Indian Ocean: Retrospect

and Prospect, 223
K. Subrahmanyam
India and the Zone of Peace, 224
Why the 1977-78 Negotiations Failed, 230
The Prospects for Indian Ocean Arms Control, 235
6. India, the United States, and Superpower Rivalry

in the Indian Ocean, 246
Selig S. Harrison
The Politics of Bases in the Indian Ocean, 249
India, the Soviet Union, and the United States, 261
Afghanistan: After the Soviet Withdrawal, 271
Avenues to Detente in the Indian Ocean and the Persian Gulf, 278
Appendix: Conclusion and Recommendations of the

Indo-American Task Force on the Indian Ocean, 287
Index, 293
Contributors
WALTER K. ANDERSEN prepared his contribution while on leave from his

position as Political Analyst for India, Sri Lanka, and the Indian Ocean in the
Bureau of Intelligence and Research, U.S. Department of State. He has writ-
ten extensively on South Asian and Indian Ocean politics and security issues,
including The Brotherhood in Saffron (Westview, 1987).
VICE-ADMIRAL M. P. AWATI retired in 1983 as Flag Officer and Com-
mander-in-Chief, Western Command, Indian Navy, and formerly served as
Commander of the Eastern Command. He is now President of the Tolani
Shipping Company in Bombay.
JOEL LARUS, Professor of Politics at New York University, has contrib-
uted studies on the international legal controversy surrounding the U.S. naval
base at Diego Garcia to Strategic Review, Round Table, The Proceedings of
the U.S. Naval Institute, and other journals. His three books include Nuclear
Weapons Safety and the Common Defense (Ohio University Press, 1967).
C. RAJA MOHAN, a Research Associate at the Institute of Defense Studies
and Analyses, New Delhi, specializes in the economic resources of the sea-
bed. His studies of nuclear issues have appeared in Nuclear Myths and Reali-
ties (ABC Publishers, 1981) and Proliferation and International Security
(I.D.S.A.).
K. SUBRAHMANYAM is former director of the Institute of Defense Studies
and Analyses, New Delhi. He has served as Secretary, Department of Defense
Production, Government of India, and as Chairman of the Joint Intelligence
Committee in the Cabinet Secretariat. His studies on strategic issues include
Indian Security Perspectives (ABC Publishers, 1982) and The Second Cold
War (ed., ABC Publishers, 1983).
SELIG S. HARRISON is a Senior Associate of the Carnegie Endowment for
International Peace. He has served as South Asian Bureau Chief of The
Washington Post and Senior Fellow in Charge of Asian Studies at the Brook-
ings Institution. His four books on Asian affairs include India: The Most
Dangerous Decades (Princeton University Press, 1960) and The Widening
Gulf: Asian Nationalism and American Policy (The Free Press, 1978).
Superpower Rivalry
in the
Indian Ocean
Introduction
SELIG S. HARRISON
K. SUBRAHMANYAM
Fears of a global nuclear war often obscure recognition of the dangerous

military tensions between the United States and the Soviet Union in critical
regions of the world where their interests conflict. This book focuses on one
of the most explosive theaters of the superpower rivalry: the vast region em-
bracing the Indian Ocean, the Persian Gulf, and 42 littoral states. One-third
of the world's population lives in this politically turbulent area. Three Ameri-
can and three Indian authors, reflecting differing perspectives and areas of
expertise, explore the principal factors that have led to the superpower con-
frontation; the impact of American, Soviet, and other extra-regional military
forces on the littoral states; the emergence of indigenous military powers,
especially India; the regional economic environment; and possible avenues
toward regional arms control. The unifying theme running through these es-
says is a central emphasis on Indo-American relations and on the importance
of Indian Ocean issues as basic sources of tension between the two countries.
Both American and Indian authors share a common concern that endemic
instability in the Indian Ocean/Persian Gulf region, arising from interacting
regional and extra-regional factors, could draw the superpowers into a direct
confrontation. Among the more sensitive focal points of such instability are
the civil war in Afghanistan and its spillover in the Afghanistan-Pakistan bor-
derlands; the Indo-Pakistan nuclear arms race; ethnic tensions in Sri Lanka;
Iran-Iraq tensions; and uncertainty surrounding the political future of Iran.
The danger of a superpower confrontation is underlined by the continuing
superpower military presence in the region. The American naval presence in
early 1987 consisted of 12 regularly deployed combat vessels, including a car-
3
4 SUPERPOWER RIVALRY IN THE INDIAN OCEAN
rier battle group; two support vessels; a tanker fleet on contract; and inter-
mittent attack submarine patrols. The Soviet Union maintained seven regu-
larly deployed combat vessels, including two attack submarines, and 17
auxiliary support vessels. Although the United States has achieved naval
superiority, the Soviet Union will increasingly be able to challenge American
dominance as its ambitious naval construction program gains momentum. In
addition to its projected Forrestal-class aircraft carrier, the first Soviet vessel
to carry fixed-wing aircraft, Moscow is building an improved version of its
28,000-ton, nuclear-powered Kirov guided-missile cruiser.
In measuring the extent of the superpower presence in the region, it has
been necessary to take into account not only blue-water naval forces but also
the growth of rapid deployment forces, Soviet land-based forces in the Trans-
caucasus, a Soviet force of some 115,000 men in Afghanistan from 1980 to
1988, and the full range of American and Soviet infrastructural support facili-
ties. The United States is developing the most elaborate network of such sup-
port facilities in conjunction with the Central Command and its Rapid De-
ployment Joint Task Force. With responsibility for 19 countries, the Central
Command can call on forces totaling 300,000 men in time of crisis. To sup-
port its rapid deployment forces, the United States maintains bases and access
facilities at Diego Garcia, Oman, Somalia, and Kenya. The American navy
maintains 17 mammoth "roll-on, roll-off" container ships at its Diego Garcia
base, loaded with enough tanks, rocket launchers, and amphibious armored
personnel carriers to enable 12,500 U.S. marines to fight for 30 days without
resupply. Moscow maintains more limited facilities at Dahlak Island off Ethio-
pia, Socotra, and Aden and has intermittently probed for new facilities else-
where. The Soviet Union also maintains several companies of naval infantry
in its Indian Ocean forces.
Looking ahead to emerging changes in military technology, the introduc-
tion of sea-launched cruise missiles by both the American and Soviet navies
is likely to arouse profound anxieties among the littoral states, given the diffi-
culty of distinguishing between conventional and nuclear cruise missile
deployments. Other forms of new and destabilizing military activity in the
Indian Ocean/Persian Gulf region by the superpowers could well develop in
the event of a failure of global arms control efforts, especially the collapse of
the Anti-Ballistic Missile (ABM) Treaty. The northern Arabian sea, in par-
ticular, could acquire special sensitivity in the context of American anti-
satellite and other interception systems related to the Strategic Defense Initia-
tive and Soviet counter measures. For the Soviet Union, too, Indian Ocean
deployments are increasingly linked to the use of outer space for military pur-
poses.
Walter K. Andersen and Vice-Admiral M. P. Awati present comprehen-
sive analyses of the military environment in the Indian Ocean/Persian Gulf
region from contrasting American and Indian perspectives.
Andersen argues that the stereotype of a Soviet-American naval "rivalry"
is misleading. He writes that the American decision in 1979 "to build up a
powerful fleet continuously present in the northwest quadrant of the Indian
Introduction 5
Ocean . . . had relatively little to do initially with the Soviet naval presence,
which was relatively modest and no real challenge. Rather, the threat came
from the Soviet capability to threaten the states of Southwest Asia from the
land. The United States could not possibly match this, but it could develop a
sea-based deterrent to a possible attack." Emphasizing American concern over
access to petroleum supplies, Andersen points to the 1973 Arab oil embargo,
the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan, in 1979, and the Iranian revolution as
events that triggered the American buildup in the region. Above all, he
stresses the growth in Soviet air and ground forces based in the southern mili-
tary districts of the Soviet Union. As for the Soviet naval presence, he seeks
to show that Moscow has deployed naval power in the Indian Ocean water-
spread primarily for diplomatic and political purposes. He discounts several
of the motivations most often cited to explain Soviet naval activity in the
region, such as the desire to outflank China and to prepare for the disruption
of Western oil supply lines in time of crisis. Moscow is concerned that the
United States might target nuclear missiles at the Soviet Union from sub-
marines operating in the Indian Ocean, but its naval forces in the region are
not dedicated primarily to anti-submarine warfare. In any case, Andersen
contends, the United States does not regularly deploy nuclear submarines in
the Indian Ocean, and the new American Trident D-5 nuclear missile sub-
marine will be able to reach the Soviet Union from behind a protective screen
near the continental United States, making it unnecessary to launch missiles
from the Indian Ocean.
Admiral Awati offers a sharply divergent analysis, contending that "the
Indian Ocean provides the United States with an ideal spot for the deploy-
ment of sea-based missiles aimed at the U.S.S.R." During the Reagan Admin-
istration in particular, he maintains, Defense Secretary Caspar Weinberger has
explicitly articulated a strategy even more ambitious than the Dulles doctrine
of containment, in which the Soviet landmass "is to be hemmed in from all
sides—across the Arctic ice cap, from the West, from China, Japan, the
Pacific and from the Indian Ocean." Soviet deployments in the Indian Ocean
are essentially defensive, he maintains, focused not only on the American
presence but also on the potential threat posed by China, especially in the
northern Indian Ocean.
While focusing on the origins and character of the superpower naval con-
frontation, Admiral Awati provides a detailed critique of the problems con-
fronting the Indian navy in its significant expansion program. Already, he
notes, it has surpassed other littoral navies in the region, acquiring capabilities
for modest naval operations in the northern Arabian Sea and the northern
Indian Ocean as well as a growing reach to the western Indian Ocean. In
1987, the Indian navy had one aircraft carrier and another on order; three
Soviet missile destroyers; 9 Soviet submarines; 24 frigates of mixed size
and origin, including 8 made in India; one maritime reconnaissance aircraft
squadron; and enough replenishment ships, support tankers, and repair ships
to support a small task force. Six more Soviet missile destroyers, 2 Soviet
missile cruisers, and 6 West German submarines were on order. Awati spec-
ulates that the Navy will double its frigate force by 1995 and points to its
new naval bases at Karwar, north of Bombay, and in the Andaman islands as
symbols of an expanding naval role.
As the three principal missions of the Indian navy, Awati cites safeguard-
ing Indian coastal waters, protecting the flow of trade in wartime, and com-
batting potential adversaries, notably Pakistan. But he also lists a fourth
significant mission: "To be in a position to assist island republics of the Indian
Ocean—notably Mauritius, the Seychelles, and possibly Sri Lanka in the
future—in case they seek Indian assistance, particularly against threats of
subversion." To deal with the growing responsibilities that he anticipates, he
proposes a new "peninsular command structure" encompassing the three
existing naval commands and calls for an end to the inter-service rivalry that
has so far blocked the establishment of an amphibious Indian Marine Force.
For the foreseeable future, Awati believes, India's principal naval adver-
sary will be Pakistan, which he describes as a "proxy" of the United States. In
dealing with Pakistan alone, the Indian navy would seek to bring an "over-
whelming concentration of force" to bear, as it did in its 1971 operations
against Karachi harbor. But "when dealing with superpowers, the Indian navy
would quite rightly adopt different tactics—tactics that will perhaps persuade
the superpower to leave well enough alone for two very good reasons. One
reason is the Indian navy's demonstrable capability to inflict unacceptable
damage if the superpower pursued a course of action considered by India to
be inimical to its interests. Another is that the other superpower would in all
probability intervene on India's side and thus raise the stakes." The Soviet
navy does not have exclusive rights to access to Indian facilities, he observes,
"but in the event of an international conflict, it would most probably invoke
the 1971 bilateral treaty with India under which it could obtain such rights,
always provided that this was also in India's own interests."
Selig S. Harrison examines the interplay of American, Soviet, and Indian
interests in the Indian Ocean, focusing initially on the western Indian Ocean
island states of Mauritius, the Seychelles, and Madagascar. After analyzing
the Soviet-American competition for bases and facilities in the context of
local political factors in these states, he assesses Indian efforts to project eco-
nomic, political, and military power in the western Indian Ocean. In contrast
to the eastern Indian Ocean, where the Indian navy is building a "defensive
bastion" against Chinese and other maritime pressures, the western Indian
Ocean, in his view, offers a more favorable opening for the relatively unim-
peded development of enhanced Indian influence.
Against the background of India's emerging power, Harrison sees a poten-
tial threat to American security interests in the Indian Ocean if the United
States continues to pursue what he sees as a self-defeating "tilt" toward
Pakistan in its South Asia policy. "So far," he declares, "New Delhi has care-
fully stopped short of de facto military collaboration with Moscow, but it
would be unwise to assume that such restraint will continue to govern Indian
policy regardless of the nature of U.S. policies toward Pakistan. . . . Mul-
tiplying American weapons aid to Islamabad could lead over time to a variety
Introduction 1
of punitive, anti-American moves in the Indian Ocean designed to limit the

American military presence or to constrain and harass American forces in
their use of existing facilities, including Diego Garcia." By the same token, if
the United States were to give "greater recognition to Indian regional pri-
macy," New Delhi would adapt to the American presence. Harrison proposes
a trade-off with India designed to produce a benign Indian posture concerning
American access to the Indian Ocean. He urges the United States to recast its
military aid policies toward Pakistan and to redefine its commitments to
Islamabad under the 1959 U.S.-Pakistan security agreement, limiting Ameri-
can combat intervention in South Asia solely to cases involving aggression by
Soviet or Afghan Communist forces. In his view, such a redefinition of the
1959 agreement has been necessitated by the regular deployment of an Ameri-
can carrier battle group in the northern Arabian Sea. While the United States
views this deployment as a deterrent to Soviet aggression in the Gulf, many
Indians fear that American forces stationed so close to South Asia might be
used to help Pakistan in the event of another Indo-Pakistan war. In return
for a more detached American posture toward South Asia, he believes, India
"should be prepared to make a tacit, pragmatic accommodation with U.S.
use of the Diego Garcia base for purposes relating to U.S. global military
communications and the deployment of U.S. forces in the Persian Gulf and
Southwest Asia, except for contingencies involving India and Pakistan alone."
Surveying public opinion in a wide spectrum of littoral states, Harrison
finds widespread anxiety concerning the superpower military presence. How-
ever, in place of the fully demilitarized Indian Ocean Zone of Peace originally
envisaged, the littoral states are now seeking to stabilize the Soviet-American
rivalry through arms control initiatives, centering on a resumption of the
regional arms limitation negotiations conducted by Washington and Moscow
during 1977 and 1978. Harrison spells out the achievements of the 1977-78
dialogue, the specific issues that were unresolved when the talks were broken
off by the United States, and the possible guidelines for a renewed regional
arms control effort. He emphasizes the changes in the regional environment
that would condition such an effort, exploring the problems likely to follow
the Afghan peace settlement. The Soviet withdrawal from Afghanistan offers
an opportunity for the first steps toward a larger regional arms control dia-
logue, he concludes, linking concessions formally barring Soviet bases in
Afghanistan with a U.S. quid pro quo concerning one or more of its bases in
the Gulf and the Indian Ocean. Harrison advances proposals for Soviet-
American mutual restraint agreements in Iran and Pakistan as well as for
arms control trade-offs incorporating some elements of the draft agreement
already negotiated in the 1977—78 dialogue, together with new land-sea trade-
offs necessitated by the buildup of regional military bases and deployments
during the past decade.
In his wide-ranging historical assessment of arms control efforts, K. Su-
brahmanyam reflects changing Indian attitudes toward the Zone of Peace
concept. While India supported the original version of the concept presented
to the United Nations in 1971, New Delhi now has "serious reservations about
the subsequent interpretations of, additions to, distortions of, and overlays to
the resolution." In its initial form, he points out, the Zone of Peace proposal,
inspired by the Antarctic and the Tlatelelco treaties, was designed to prevent
the introduction of extra-regional nuclear forces into the Indian Ocean, where
they were not yet present. "It was a measure to halt the spatial proliferation
of nuclear weapons," he writes. But efforts were subsequently made to alter
the original proposal by enlarging the concept of the projected zone to em-
brace not only the waterspread but also littoral and hinterland states and by
extending the idea of Indian Ocean denuclearization to the littoral states.
When many of the littoral states became increasingly dependent on affluent
Western nations for economic assistance following the oil price hike of
1973, extra-regional nuclear powers were able to exploit differences among
the littoral states, inducing some of them to support such alterations and to
sign the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty. India, by contrast, "had a far
more realistic view about the game of 'non-proliferation' and therefore refused
to accept a regime . . . which violates the basic international norm that all
nations of the world are equally entitled to the same categories of weapons
of offense and defense. Nor was India taken in by the concept of a nuclear-
weapon-free zone, which legitimized nuclear weapons in the hands of a few
powers."
Subrahmanyam sees little prospect for progress toward regional arms con-
trol because the United States opposes arms control proposals " 'not invented
here.' " In the case of the Indian Ocean, the United States is "not willing to
forgo the current asymmetric strategic advantages that the Indian Ocean pro-
vides as a strategic deployment area vis-a-vis the Soviet Union." But he warns
that there will be "greater balance" when Soviet aircraft carriers are able to
operate not only in the Indian Ocean but also "in the ocean space south of the
United States, and the Soviet Union gets increased access to port facilities in
Latin America." Although the present asymmetry will not change until "the
mid-1990s," the United States is making a mistake, his argument runs, by
seeking to balance Soviet superiority on land with a naval presence in the
Indian Ocean. This will only lead to counter-deployments of submarines
armed with surface skimmer missiles and cruise missiles, as well as carriers,
and "may necessitate the Soviets securing further infrastructure support for
such deployment in addition to what it now has at Aden and Dahlak." The
United States could best serve its interests, he declares, by pursuing regional
arms control negotiations that could be linked to larger arms control trade-
offs.
Rejecting the characteristic American view that Moscow triggered the
superpower military buildup in the region with its intervention in Afghanistan,
Subrahmanyam recalls that the Rapid Deployment Force (RDF) was first
envisaged in a Presidential directive in August 1977 not as a response to
events in Afghanistan but possibly in anticipation of them. He emphasizes the
broad pattern of interaction between American and Soviet moves during the
mid-1970s that led up to the Soviet intervention. Thus, Moscow's decision to
intervene may have been triggered by the prospect of the RDF, the rupture
Introduction 9
of the Indian Ocean arms control negotiations in 1978, the stationing of the
U.S. carrier battle group in the Arabian Sea in 1979, American strategic over-
tures to China, and, finally, fears of American intervention in Iran during the
hostage crisis. In American eyes, he adds, Soviet moves in Ethiopia, the 1978
coup in South Yemen, and increasing Soviet arms flows into Iraq must have
been seen as posing threats to Saudi Arabia and the Gulf oil fields. But these
events can be traced, in turn, to earlier efforts by pro-American Egyptian,
Iranian, and Saudi leaders to wean Soviet-oriented Somalia, South Yemen,
and Afghanistan away from their Moscow connection.
Joel Larus and C. Raja Mohan approach their analyses of the economic
environment in the Indian Ocean from radically differing perspectives, but
both show that Indian and American economic interests need not come into
conflict.
Larus examines the potential for the development of fishing, seabed
petroleum, and seabed mining resources, focusing most sharply on seabed
mining opportunities resulting from the discovery of polymetallic manganese
and sulfide nodules in the Indian and other oceans. Reviewing the differences
between India and the United States concerning the seabed mining provisions
of the Law of the Sea Treaty, he devotes special attention to a little-remem-
bered 1970 proposal by the Nixon Administration concerning seabed mining.
In contrast to the Treaty's plan for an international seabed mining authority,
superseding sovereign national control over seabed mining ventures, the
Nixon plan envisaged trusteeship zones under the control of coastal states as
managing trustees. Private companies would have operated not under the con-
trol of an international authority, as in the Treaty, but under concessions
from the coastal states. However, Larus emphasizes, the underlying Treaty
concept that the oceans constitute the "common heritage of mankind" was
recognized in the Nixon plan, which provided for the allocation of a desig-
nated portion of the funds accruing from mining activity to Third World
states. At various times, the Nixon plan set this portion at 66 percent, 50 per-
cent, and finally 33 percent.
Larus suggests that the 1970 American proposal offers a way out of the
seabed mining impasse that has resulted from the American refusal to sign
the Treaty. Half of all funds earned by nationally licensed seabed mining en-
terprises would go to a fund administered by Third World states for Third
World development. The 1970 plan is an "economically realistic way to ex-
ploit the resources of the common space for the developing nations," he says,
in contrast to Treaty provisions giving what he sees as punitive taxation,
royalty, and technological transfer powers to the projected international au-
thority. In this connection, Larus objects to India's support for the Treaty's
seabed mining provisions. Citing Indian expenditures of more than $100 mil-
lion to date in developing its own seabed mining program, and the probable
outlay of $1.5 billion to bring each of its Indian Ocean mining sites into oper-
ation, he urges New Delhi to shed its Third World self-image, divorcing itself
from the projected international authority in favor of a more profitable,
nationalistic policy. "Every developing state in the world, except India, can
someday expect to realize—cost free—material benefits from the authority's

mining operations, operations that will be based on the initiative, creativity,
and venture capital of leading industrial nations of the West and India. India
will never be in this category because its financial/personnel commitment to a
national seabed mining operation in no way resembles the policy of any other
Third World state."
Raja Mohan, expressing support for the Law of the Sea Treaty, sees
"valid reasons" for India to continue with its seabed mining efforts. He views
with alarm the successful American effort to promote a boycott of the Treaty
by Japan and West European nations and a concomitant agreement by these
nations not to violate each other's seabed claims. "The battle for the seabed
is taking a dangerous turn," he warns, "and an ugly situation could develop
if two treaty systems—one under the auspices of the United Nations and the
other with U.S. protection—begin to operate and squabble over mining
rights." For the immediate future, he foresees uncertainty over seabed mining
due to the high investments involved and depressed metal markets. But the
long-term prospect is more hopeful and warrants a continued Indian invest-
ment in seabed development under the terms of the Law of the Sea Treaty.
Apart from his discussion of seabed mining, offshore petroleum prospects,
fishery development, and opportunities for exploiting recent technological ad-
vances in ocean sciences and engineering, Raja Mohan devotes his essay
primarily to putting the resource potential of the Indian Ocean/Persian Gulf
region into perspective. He seeks to destroy the central argument generally
made to justify the projection of American naval power into the region: that
the United States has a "dangerous dependence" on regional resources and
that its access to these resources is threatened by possible Soviet aggression
and regional instability. Ridiculing Western "overdramatization" of the oil
price increases in the early 1970s, he maintains that the importance of Gulf
011 is declining in the wake of falling world energy consumption, energy con-
servation in the West, growing non-OPEC production, and greater reliance on
non-petroleum sources of energy. He cites the experience of the Iran-Iraq
war to disprove the argument that local conflicts may lead to a cutoff of oil
supplies from the region. "Even if there is a dramatic and radical change in
the nature of the power elites of the local states," he writes, "it is unlikely that
oil would be cut off, given the dependence of these states on a single com-
modity for economic survival." As for the fears of a Soviet threat to Gulf oil,
he criticizes what he sees as an "obsession" with no demonstrated foundation
in reality. American specialists have fluctuated erratically, he observes, be-
tween one extreme in which Moscow is depicted as seeking to lure the NATO
allies into energy dependence with their surplus oil and another extreme in
which an oil-short Soviet Union is depicted as bent on grabbing Gulf oil. Such
arguments cannot mask the "real motivations" behind the American military
presence, namely, the desire to maintain local allies and block changes in
local power elites in order to extend American political and military influence.
In an extensive analysis of "the mythology of strategic minerals," Raja
Mohan challenges the conventional wisdom that the United States is depen-
Introduction 11
dent on the non-petroleum mineral resources of the Indian Ocean/Persian

Gulf region. He seeks to demonstrate the declining importance of metals as a
result of structural changes in Western economies, including competition from
plastics, composites, optical fibers, and ceramics. He alleges that domestic
U.S. mining interests have raised the bogey of dependence to protect their
own markets and profits. Recycling, substitution, conservation, and improved
materials management have diminished American dependence on imported
minerals, and the American share of direct investment in mining and smelting
in developing countries has dropped from 60 percent in 1950 to 42 percent
in 1968 and 32 percent in 1978.
The essays in this book constitute a powerful reminder that the world's
two largest democracies have sharply divergent worldviews. Yet American
and Indian authors alike have noted the convergence of interests between the
two countries on a variety of basic issues, especially maintaining freedom of
the seas, the security of shipping traffic, and access to the petroleum supplies
of the Gulf. More important, as the changes now taking place in the Soviet
Union suggest, the possibility of a gradual Soviet-American accommodation
cannot be ruled out, both at the global level and in such arenas of regional
confrontation as the Indian Ocean and the Gulf. Should such an accommo-
dation occur, many of the proposals in these pages for arms limitations, politi-
cal settlements, and economic development might well acquire a new rele-
vance.
1
Emerging Security Issues in
the Indian Ocean: An
American Perspective
WALTER K. ANDERSEN
The Indian Ocean assumed renewed importance in the mid-1980s with the
escalation of the attacks on shipping in the Persian Gulf by Iran and Iraq.
The naval commitment of the United States to the northwest quadrant of the
Indian Ocean reached levels of the late 1970s, and American determination to
assure the flow of oil was symbolized by the American decision to reflag Ku-
waiti tankers and to provide military escorts. This enhanced U.S. activity un-
derscored the continued importance of U.S. military facilities in the Philip-
pines, as well as the uncertain positions of these facilities in the context of
recent political developments there. In this fluid situation, the Soviet Union,
under the leadership of Mikhail Gorbachev, has sought to enhance its own
influence, and Gorbachev's resuscitation of a Soviet-proposed Asian Collec-
tive Security scheme demonstrates a renewed Soviet commitment to play a
more influential role in Asian affairs.
During the early 1970s, the Indian Ocean first became identified as a dis-
tinct area attracting international attention as well as a source of international
conflict. A fundamental cause for this interest, by the superpowers in any
event, was (and is) the state of inter- and intra-state instability endemic to the
subregions bordering on the Indian Ocean. The Iran-Iraq war underscored the
continuing tensions in the area. The Soviet Union views this instability as an
opportunity for enhanced political influence; simultaneously it is perceived as
threatening the economic and strategic interests of the United States. The
Western countries see a possible threat to their access to critical regional
natural resources as well as to freedom of commercial sea lanes. They are
12
Emerging Security Issues: American Perspective 13
also concerned about the possibility of an alliance between some of the littoral
states (or anti-Western elements in some states) and the Soviet Union. That
the Soviet Union has similar concerns has been indicated by its fears of an
unfriendly regime in Afghanistan when Soviet forces withdraw. In addition,
the development of submarine-launched ballistic missiles by the United States
led Moscow to consider a possible strategic threat from the south.
In reaction to instability along the Indian Ocean littoral, both superpowers
in the early 1970s deployed naval forces on a regular basis to the Indian
Ocean. But until the late 1970s the United States did not consider its interests
sufficiently threatened to commit carrier task forces permanently to the Indian
Ocean, which would have given it naval supremacy there. As a result, the
Soviet Union was able to establish itself as the largest continuous naval pres-
ence in the Indian Ocean through most of the 1970s.
The U.S. perception of the strategic importance of the Indian Ocean
changed dramatically in the late 1970s. This change in perception was brought
about by the fall of the Shah, which shattered the Nixon Doctrine's assump-
tion that powerful subregional states could protect U.S. interests, and by the
Soviet occupation of Afghanistan, which brought home to the West the
realization that the Soviet Union was the most powerful Indian Ocean hinter-
land state and that Moscow was prepared to use force against its southern
neighbors to protect its perceived interests. In response, the United States
established naval supremacy in the Indian Ocean (see Table 1.1) and ini-
tiated efforts to upgrade its lift capacity to enable Washington to react quickly
to a crisis threatening access to the oil resources of the region. This capability
is principally intended to serve as a deterrent against Soviet land-based mili-
tary moves that would threaten the oil-producing areas of Southwest Asia.
U.S. policy in the Indian Ocean is driven by a forward strategy while the
Soviet Union's strategy is grounded on the fact that it is a land power with
potential enemies on its borders and with no need to cross water for defense.
Barring some significant U.S.-Soviet disarmament agreement addressing
U.S. fears regarding Soviet moves, Washington will probably continue to
adhere to its policy of maintaining a deterrence credibility in the Southwest
Asian region, which, among other things, involves maintaining naval suprem-
acy. Strategists in the United States and elsewhere have argued about how
much and what kind of military force is needed to deter the Soviet Union, but
in the United States at least few disagree about the necessity of a U.S. deter-
rent force in the Indian Ocean. Since the advent of Mikhail Gorbachev, the
Soviet Union has taken steps that could reduce U.S. concerns, such as the
1988 Soviet agreement at Geneva to withdraw troops from Afghanistan. How-
ever, as noted earlier, the threat to access to raw materials does not come
only from Moscow.
The U.S. decision in 1987 to reflag and escort Kuwaiti tankers in the
Persian Gulf—at the request of Kuwait and with the general backing of other
Arab Gulf states—aroused concerns within the United States and elsewhere
that America might become directly involved in the Iran-Iraq conflict. In ad-
dition to warning of the potential for the large-scale loss of American lives,
critics pointed out that such involvement might strengthen hard-line elements
in Tehran, enhancing Soviet influence and postponing progress toward the
long-range goal of better U.S.-Iranian relations. While the U.S. protective
role was not formally challenged, the loss of American lives in the Stark in-
cident and of both American and Iranian lives in the Vincennes tragedy stim-
ulated sharp U.S. political debate before the mid-1988 Iran-Iraq cease fire.
But even this debate did not significantly undermine American support for
a deterrent force in the Indian Ocean.
The Soviet Union, the proximate superpower, is likely to continue seeking
ways to make the Gulf area safer for Soviet security, an objective that poten-
tially threatens the Western interest in access to the vital oil reserves of the
region. As long as the Soviet Union remains committed to a policy of under-
mining Western interests in the area, the United States and its allies will have
a compelling reason to maintain the means of responding effectively. A simi-
larly compelling reason for maintaining Western military forces in the area is
the threat of regional instability to continued Western access to the still vital
oil reserves.
Littoral states for their part have also upgraded their naval capabilities
(as well as their military capabilities in general) during the 1970s in reaction
to unresolved regional problems and, in a few cases, to potential threats posed
by the presence of the superpowers in the Indian Ocean. (See Table 1.2 for
the generally upward trends in military expenditures.) The littoral states,
however, have been unable collectively to oppose outside intrusion, in large
part because of antagonisms among them. The Iran-Iraq war is only the most
recent example of differences regarding the presence of outside military
forces. Indeed, many littoral states have welcomed outside military assistance
and a nearby presence of one or the other superpower as assets against per-
ceived domestic or subregional foes. The present state of relations between
the two superpowers makes it unlikely that either would pay much heed to
efforts at excluding them from the Indian Ocean area. At the same time, the
growing stockpiles of missiles in the navies of littoral states have increased the
potential costs of "gunboat diplomacy" by either the superpowers or others.
Such a capability on the part of littoral states has increased the danger to the
sea lanes, as the Iraqis and Iranians demonstrated in the mid-1980s "tanker
war" (see Table 1.7).
The developing political polarization (i.e., between those with military
links to the Soviet Union and those with ties to the West) among Indian
Ocean littoral states will only partly be resolved by international politics.
More important determinants of future trends are likely to be the contribu-
tions that individual countries and subregions make to their own economic
and social development and an effort to resolve long-standing subregional
animosities among neighboring states.
Origins of External Interest in the Indian Ocean
The United States and the Soviet Union initially deployed naval forces to the
Indian Ocean for reasons that had very little to do with U.S.-Soviet rivalry
in the Indian Ocean itself. Nor did either superpower move to fill a vacuum
left by the British withdrawal in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Indeed, the
Indian Ocean was a very low-priority concern to both nations until the early
1970s, and the Atlantic and Pacific ocean areas are still far more important
to both than the Indian Ocean. At least initially, Soviet concerns were focused
primarily on enhancing its political influence among littoral states. The United
States for its part wanted to signal its interest in assuring a flow of oil from
the unstable Southwest Asian region. Both goals remain important objectives
to the superpowers.
The British Withdraw

For almost 200 years the British exercised predominant military power in the
Indian Ocean by establishing bases at key choke points and along critical sea
lanes. In the 1960s, however, the costs of maintaining military facilities be-
came a major issue in domestic British politics, and significant elements in
both the Labor and Conservative parties advocated a reduction of forces
there.1 The White Paper on Defence (Command Papers 2901 and 2902)
released on February 22, 1966, virtually ruled out unilateral British activities
in the Indian Ocean; and Prime Minister Harold Wilson in early 1968 an-
nounced his government's intention to cut drastically the British presence east
of Suez by the end of 1971, a statement that alarmed some littoral states,
especially the smaller ones that felt threatened by larger neighbors. For exam-
ple, the ruler of Abu Dhabi unsuccessfully floated a proposal that the Persian
Gulf sheikhdoms pay for the costs of a British naval presence in the Persian
Gulf.2 On the other side of the Indian Ocean, Singapore and Malaysia were
equally disturbed and pushed successfully for a multilateral defense agree-
ment—the Five Power Defence Agreement (FPDA; comprising Singapore,
Malaysia, the United Kingdom, Australia, and New Zealand). These five
powers agreed to consult together regarding any unilateral or joint action
against a threat or act of aggression against Malaysia and Singapore.3
Still another British White Paper was issued in March 1971 spelling out
the process of shutting down the remaining British facilities (e.g., a naval
communications center on Mauritius, an airfield on Gan in the Maldives, and
the Masirah airfield in Oman) and granting independence to the remnants of
Empire (e.g., the Seychelles in 1976), with the prominent exception of the
British Indian Ocean Territory, which includes the atoll of Diego Garcia on
which the United States now maintains a base.
These actions left France, the other European power with a traditional
association in the Indian Ocean and a naval presence there, the most power-
ful outside naval power in the interim before the superpowers began to
expand their presences. Nonetheless, France also voluntarily reduced its
ground forces in the area and was obligated to shut down military bases, in-
cluding its large-scale naval facility at Diego Suarez (in the Malagasy Re-
public). The French shifted their naval operations to La Reunion, an island
560 miles to the east of the Malagasy Republic (and whose population has
voted for the status of an overseas French department) and to Mayotte. These
facilities enable France to retain a commanding presence on the sea route
from the Cape of Good Hope. Farther north, the French retained access to
air and naval facilities at Djibouti, providing it an important presence at the
choke point of the Red Sea.
The Superpowers Enter: The Soviet Union

As far as the United States and the Soviet Union were concerned, the Indian
Ocean remained a very low-priority concern until the early 1970s, though they
both had maintained modest naval presences to underscore the fact that they
did have interests in the region. The first Soviet ship (other than merchant
ships) to enter the Indian Ocean was an oceanographic research ship in 1957,
followed by yearly visits of research ships after that, possibly signaling Soviet
intent to conduct submarine and anti-submarine operations in the Indian
Ocean. In 1965, a single Soviet warship made a port visit to the Indian Ocean,
a symbolic advance guard for the Soviet Navy's forward deployment strategy,
successfully advocated by Admiral Sergey Gorshkov. In addition, the Soviet
Union in the 1960s supplied arms at very competitive prices to a number of
states around the Indian Ocean, and it sought naval basing rights from some
of the recipients.
The Soviet decision to deploy ships regularly to the Indian Ocean in the
late 1960s probably had very little to do with the British decision to withdraw
east of Suez. The Soviet bureaucracy had undoubtedly considered this step
long before the British announcement. One compelling factor might have been
the U.S. option to deploy SSBNs to the Indian Ocean. The Kremlin un-
doubtedly had searched for signs of such a deployment and may have con-
cluded that the United States might be on the verge of doing so. Between 1962
and 1966, the United States and Great Britain agreed on the joint develop-
ment of a communications facility on Diego Garcia. While these talks were
going on in 1963, the United States and Australia agreed to develop still
another communications facility on the North West Cape in Western Aus-
tralia.
With the introduction, in 1964, of the long-range Polaris A-3 ballistic
missiles and, in 1971, of the Poseidon C-3 (both with a range of 2500 nauti-
cal miles) into the U.S. arsenal, the Arabian Sea became a plausible deploy-
ment option for the United States. The Trident C-3 (SLBM range 4230
miles) and the imminent development of the Trident II (D-5) missiles (range
6000-plus natuical miles) both increase the target area within the Soviet
Union and the accuracy of the missile, as well as expanding the ocean area to
be searched by the Soviet Union.4
But the Soviet SLBM concern is highly speculative and the United States
has officially denied such deployment to the Indian Ocean. (The Soviet Union
tacitly admitted non-deployment in the 1977-78 Naval Arms Limitation
Talks when it agreed in principle to a freeze. The Soviets had entered the
talks largely to forestall such a deployment.) The closest operating base capa-
able of supporting a U.S. SSBN is Guam in the western Pacific Ocean and
Rota in Spain, both such a great distance from the Indian Ocean that transit
times would significantly reduce the on-station time for each submarine. The
newest Trident SLBM, the D-4, theoretically removes this constraint, but it
will also enable the U.S. SLBM force to strike at the Soviet Union from be-
hind a protective screen closer to the continental United States.
Nonethless, from the Soviet point of view, it can be assumed that the
United States retains the Indian Ocean deployment option. Besides the tech-
nical advantages noted above, the specific bathythermal conditions of the
Indian Ocean, which has steep temperature gradients and a high salt content
(thus reducing the range and reliability of low-frequency sonar equipment),
might be viewed as an incentive to deploy, as would be the advantage of
complicating Soviet ABM defenses and thinning out Soviet ASW deployment
patterns. It is likely that the Soviets calculated that such a potential SLBM
threat, even if only potential, would have to be countered with a significant
naval presence possessing an ASW capability. There is little doubt that block-
ing an SLBM deployment was the primary motive behind Moscow's decision
to join the U.S.-proposed 1977-78 Naval Arms Limitation Talks.5 Former
Foreign Minister Andrei Gromyko recently reasserted the Soviet Union's con-
tinued concern over SLBMs in the Indian Ocean in 1984 as part of his re-
sponse to a query by UN Secretary General Perez de Cuellar regarding limit-
ing naval activities and naval armaments. Gromyko responded inter alia that
"The Soviet Union has actively pressed for elaboration of measures to con-
tain the naval armaments race both on a bilateral basis, in particular within
the framework of Soviet-American talks on limiting and subsequently reduc-
ing military activities in the Indian Ocean and in the context of ... reduc-
ing strategic armaments" (emphasis added) .6
However, the primary Soviet naval mission has probably never been di-
rected against a potential U.S. strategic deployment to the Indian Ocean, a
conclusion reached early on by U.S. official analysts. William E. Colby, then
director of the CIA, testified before a congressional committee in 1974 that
"the activities of Soviet naval units there [in the Indian Ocean] have not indi-
cated an anti-Polaris mission."7 He probably meant to say that the Soviet
deployment was not primarily ASW, for a separate study indicates that at least
20 percent of the Soviet ships present in the Indian Ocean in 1974-75 had an
ASW capability.8 Indeed, in those same hearings Colby speculated that the
Soviet Union probably would enhance its capabilities for land-based air re-
connaissance and anti-submarine warfare (both of which were done later).
Still another reason for the Soviet deployment that may have been linked to
the potential SSBN threat—and one mentioned in the Colby testimony—is
that the Soviets might create a force that could pose a counter-threat to
Western oil routes if Moscow concluded that SSBNs had become a major
security threat to the Soviet Union. However, Colby revealed that the lack of
a significant submarine capability at that time suggested that interdiction was
not a major Soviet objective (and probably still is not, considering the modest
Soviet submarine deployment to the Indian Ocean). Any serious Soviet effort
at interdiction would probably lead to a general war, and the Soviet ships
would then be quickly eliminated. Consequently, any long-range interdiction
option would have to depend on land-based aircraft operating from the south-
ern reaches of the Soviet Union (or from air bases in Afghanistan).
The Soviets undoubtedly would have deployed ships to the Indian Ocean
even had there not been a U.S. SLBM option. Having achieved nuclear parity
with the United States, the Soviet Union was no longer willing to play the role
of supporting cast member and acquiesce in what it perceived to be an illegiti-
mate Western monopoly of influence in an adjacent area. For example, For-
eign Minister Gromyko, at the 24th Party Congress in 1971, declared that
thereafter no matter affecting the Soviet Union could be settled without its
participation. 9 Warships would strongly signal that interest.
Still another reason for deployment—and one strongly advocated by Ad-
miral Sergei Gorshkov—may have been a decision to use the navy to gain
influence among political elites who had just taken power from colonial mas-
ters or who were embroiled in national liberation struggles. Soviet commen-
taries of the time (and to a certain extent even now) expressed confidence
that such elites would look to the "sacred center" of the socialist faith for
guidance.
The sharp deterioration of Sino-Soviet relations in the 1960s provided
another compelling reason to dispatch warships to the Indian Ocean. The
People's Republic of China had scored some signal successes in enhancing
its influence among littoral states, especially in east Africa and Soviet war-
ships would be one means of convincing political elites that the Kremlin had
more to offer to keep them in power than did the People's Republic.
Some analysts have speculated that there were important economic rea-
sons for projecting Soviet seapower—protecting shipping routes to the Indian
Ocean states, and the routes between the eastern and western ports of the
Soviet Union, as well as the expanding Soviet fishing fleet in the Indian Ocean.
In my view, these were (and are) a much lower order of concern. A very
small percentage of Soviet trade transits the Indian Ocean, and the Soviet
Union, unlike the West, is not heavily dependent on the oil and mineral re-
sources from the Indian Ocean littoral states. Nonetheless, the Indian Ocean
transit route is likely to become more important as the eastern reaches of the
Soviet Union are developed. In addition, the rail and road links to the Pacific
coastal ports might be endangered in a future crisis with China.
A number of instruments were used to enhance Soviet influence and
power, but this paper will focus only on the military. Already in the early
1960s, the Soviet navy under the leadership of Admiral Sergei Gorshkov had
apparently convinced the Kremlin leadership that advances in nuclear weap-
ons technology required an expansion of the defensive perimeter of the Soviet
Union. In order to achieve this, sea power was essential, in particular warships
equipped with anti-submarine and anti-carrier capabilities. The scale of Soviet
out-of-area operations increased between 1964 and 1974 by a multiple of
12—expanding from 4000 ship days per year to 46,000.10 ASW missions
clearly governed the outward deployment in the Atlantic, the Pacific, and
the Mediterranean. The deployments to the Indian Ocean, however, were
apparently governed more by considerations regarding the diplomacy of sea
power, another topic much talked about by Gorshkov.
In March 1968, Moscow dispatched three warships to the Indian Ocean
on a flag-showing mission to a number of ports; these ships returned to the
Pacific fleet in July of that year. This was followed by still another series of
flag-showing visits in November to ports in East Africa, the Red Sea, and the
Persian Gulf. From the spring of 1969 onward, the Soviet Union has main-
tained a continuous naval presence, drawn primarily from its Pacific fleet. In
one of the first systematic studies of the Soviet navy in the Indian Ocean,
Geoffrey Jukes concluded that the Soviet Union's modest naval presence in
the early 1970s was not on a sufficient scale to have a far-reaching naval
objective. Rather, he concluded that its purposes appeared to be political,
and area familiarization linked to an anti-carrier and anti-Polaris role.11
The first apparent example in the Indian Ocean of the Soviet's employ-
ment of naval forces for political purposes12 occurred in 1968, when Soviet
ships visited Aden, just after the revolt against the government of President
Quhtan as-Shaabi. While this visit had surely been planned earlier, Moscow's
decision to go ahead with the visit gave the Soviet Union the chance to display
military support of the as-Shaabi regime and thereby increase the prospect of
strengthened relations with South Yemen. Soon after, the Soviets began a
series of visits to Somalian ports to underscore its friendship with the new
regime of President Mohammed Siad Barre, who had seized power in October
1969. In late 1971, Soviet ships trailed three days behind the U.S.S. Enter-
prise task force during the Indo-Pakistani war. However, by suggesting a
readiness to intervene on India's side in the event of action by the Enterprise
in support of Pakistan, Moscow gained an enormous public relations coup in
India at little real risk to itself.
Soviet ships in the spring of 1973 demonstrated support to Iraq in its
border dispute with Kuwait. A four-ship Soviet naval squadron and the Soviet
naval Commander-in-Chief visited Iraq, presumably to commemorate a treaty
of friendship and cooperation between the Soviet Union and Iraq signed the
previous year. Admiral Gorshkov's inclusion in the visit was not announced
until just days before his arrival, and the Soviet warships arrived without
prior announcement. In 1977, after being ordered out of Somalia, the Soviet
Union mounted a massive airlift of supplies to Ethiopia. Equipment was
flown to either Addis Ababa or Aden, then transhipped by sea to Ethiopia.
Cuban proxies, numbering about 16,000—17,000, were also dispatched on
Soviet transports, to assist in the fighting first against Somalia and then against
Marxist insurgents in Eritrea. In 1979, the aircraft carrier Minsk task group,
en route through the Indian Ocean to the Pacific fleet, spent several days at
Maputo, underscoring Soviet support for Mozambique vis-a-vis Rhodesia and
South Africa.
This display of friendship for sitting regimes in need of assistance helped
Moscow gain access to military installations in Somalia, Ethiopia, South Ye-
men, and Iraq. (The Soviets tried, and failed, to gain such facilities in India,
Pakistan, and Indonesia). In the case of Somalia, the Soviets were given per-
mission to use shore facilities; and Soviet naval aircraft were based in So-
malia. In 1978, one year after losing its military position in Somalia as a
result of Soviet support to Ethiopia during the ongoing Ethiopian-Somalian
conflict, Soviet 11-38 reconnaissance aircraft began to make flights from South
Yemen. The Soviet Union had initiated such flights even earlier out of So-
malia, suggesting that the Kremlin intended to develop an operational naval
capacity resembling the pattern of the Soviet naval buildup in the Mediter-
ranean during the mid-1960s. The Soviets were to receive access rights (now
virtually unrestricted) to the Dahlak Archipelago in Ethiopia. To sum up,
the Soviet strategy amounts to what the French strategists refer to as "nib-
bling" tactics against the United States. For example, the Soviet naval pres-
ence in the Horn in the late 1970s, combined with the impression then of an
uncertain U.S. administration, caused Saudi Arabia, a key country for Ameri-
can interests, to reexamine its policy options, including its relations with the
Soviet Union.
The Superpowers Enter: The United States

The United States has maintained a three-ship force (the MIDEASTFOR)
consisting of a flagship and two destroyers, located at Bahrain in the Persian
Gulf, since 1949.13 The United States also maintained a SAC recovery base at
Dharan from 1951 until the early 1960s, when it was terminated at Saudi re-
quest. Bilateral defense agreements were negotiated with Iran and Pakistan
in 1950 and 1954, respectively, which interlocked with the Baghdad Pact of
1955 (CENTO after 1958). Finally, after the 1962 Chinese incursion into
India, a substantial U.S. military aid program was initiated at Indian request,
and this survived until the Indo-Pakistani war in late 1965.
After years of relative disinterest, U.S. concerns regarding the Indian
Ocean took on new importance with the deterioration of U.S.-Soviet relations
during the early 1960s and the growing U.S. military involvement in Southeast
Asia. In 1960, the carrier U.S.S. Bonhomme Richard visited the Indian
Ocean. Gary Sick, in his thorough discussion of the developing U.S. Indian
Ocean policy, points out that the American naval establishment at the time
was beginning to look for a facility in the area that was strategically located
as well as relatively immune from nationalist pressures.14
India was to play a major role in the decision to establish such a facility.
The United States dispatched the U.S.S. Enterprise to the Bay of Bengal in
the wake of the 1962 Sino-Indian war to help provide air cover to Calcutta
if that became necessary.15 This experience of Chinese aggression against In-
dia convinced many in the State Department that the United States needed
military muscle to back diplomatic initiatives in southern Asia. Even though
the White House and the Department of Defense were still skeptical of such
a need, the State Department view prevailed. Talks with Great Britain were
initiated in 1963 and a U.S. survey was carried out in 1964 (and again in
1967) to locate site(s) suitable for U.S. needs in the Indian Ocean.
In 1963, the U.S.S. Essex and a naval task force participated in the first
annual MIDLINK exercises with CENTO partners. In 1964, President John-
son sent a carrier force unassociated with MIDLINK to the Indian Ocean to
underscore U.S. interest in the Indian Ocean.
Great Britain detached several islands in the Chagos Archipelago to create
the British Indian Ocean Territory (BIOT)—which included Diego Garcia.
The United States in turn canceled some $414 million in research and devel-
opment costs for the Polaris missile system, which had been part of the British
obligation toward costs associated with this missile.16 The agreement in 1966
regarding Diego Garcia envisaged an austere communications facility. It stipu-
lated that administrative authorities (i.e., the U.S. navy and the Royal Navy)
of each side were to bear the costs of its respective installations. The initial
period covered by the agreement was 50 years, with a provision for a 20-year
extension.
The British decision to withdraw its forces east of Suez had a much
greater impact on the U.S. view of its interests in the Indian Ocean than on
that of the Soviet Union. The British decision was taken at a time when U.S.
forces were already stretched thin because of the involvement in Vietnam and
when domestic opposition to overseas U.S. commitments was growing. The
Nixon Doctrine, announced in 1969, was an effort at minimizing U.S. mili-
tary commitments in Asia (outside of Vietnam) and maximizing reliance on
major sub-regional powers to maintain stability in their own area.17 In line
with this, the United States significantly stepped up its technological and mili-
tary assistance programs to Iran and Saudi Arabia. Washington also increased
its diplomatic presence in littoral states. Underlying these moves were certain
assumptions: U.S. interests in the Indian Ocean were secondary to interests in
Europe and East Asia, and regional developments were not significantly sus-
ceptible to U.S. military pressure.
In one of the first series of congressional hearings on the Indian Ocean, in
1971, Ronald I. Spiers, then Director of the Bureau of Politico-Military Af-
fairs in the Department of State, listed inter alia major U.S. interests in the
Indian Ocean: concern for the growing Soviet influence around the choke
point to the Red Sea; regional instability that might adversely affect Western
access to Persian Gulf oil; and the continued right of free passage for U.S.
commercial and military traffic. He noted that "It is to our interest that coun-
tries of the area not pass under the control of forces hostile to us. Specifically,
we would be concerned if Chinese or Soviet influence in the area extended to
control of the water areas of significant parts of the littoral. We do not en-
visage an immediate threat of this nature, however" (emphasis added).18

Robert J. Pranger, Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense (International Se-
curity Affairs), testifying along with Spiers, added that the United States was
apprehensive about the reduced time that it would take for the Soviet Union
to augment its military presence in the Indian Ocean once the Suez Canal was
reopened.19
In his testimony, Spiers noted that Congress had appropriated $5.4 million
in the FY 1971 Military Construction Bill to establish a communications
facility on Diego Garcia. He pointed out that such facilities were not merely
a response to increased Soviet naval activity in the Indian Ocean, but were
also needed to fill a communications gap then existing in the south, central,
and northeast portions of the Indian Ocean that could not be covered by exist-
ing U.S. naval communications facilities. In response to questioning, he stated
that the United States planned to construct on Diego Garcia a small logistical
petroleum storage facility to meet the needs of the communications unit, an
8000-foot runway capable of handling C-130 and C-140 transport aircraft,
and a turnaround basin in the channel of the atoll.20
The record indicates that U.S. officials had no serious plans for Diego
Garcia beyond that of a very modest communications facility. The administra-
tion still considered the Indian Ocean and its littoral marginal to core U.S.
security interests, a view that did not change until the 1973 Arab-Israeli war
and the 1973-74 oil embargo. For example, Joseph Sisco, Undersecretary of
the State Department, told a congressional committee in May 1973 that U.S.
interests in the area were "marginal," that "the Nixon Doctrine is quite ap-
plicable—namely, we ourselves don't want to become involved [in the
area]."21
This complacent view was soon to change markedly. About one year after
Sisco's remarks, Rear Admiral Charles D. Grojean, Director of Politico-
Military Policy Division, Office of the Chief of Naval Operations, requested
substantial additional funds from a congressional committee to transform
Diego Garcia into a support facility for the growing number of U.S. ships in
the Indian Ocean. He stated that such a support facility was needed "if we
wish to have the capability to move or maintain our ships in the area without
degrading our posture in the Western Pacific."22 The number of U.S. ship
days in the Indian Ocean increased from 1246 in 1970 to 2154 in 1973. (The
comparable Soviet increase was from 4930 ship days to 9000.)23 In response
to the uncertainty aroused by the 1973 Arab-Israeli war, the United States
instituted periodic deployments from the Pacific Fleet (usually three per
year), with every other deployment to include an aircraft carrier. In March
1975, President Ford declared that facilities on Diego Garcia were "essential
to the national interests of the United States,"24 the first high-level statement
to indicate that the "essential interests" of the United States were involved.
The Arab-Israeli war, as noted earlier, convinced many Americans that the
United States needed a facility of its own in case of another Middle East con-
flict, since NATO allies and others had refused to permit refuelings or over-
flights during that conflict.
Emerging Security Issues: American Perspectivee 23
Admiral Thomas H. Moorer, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff,

spelled out what the Department of Defense was seeking: dredging of the
lagoon of the atoll so that it could handle a tender, increasing the POL capac-
ity by 480,000 barrels (capable of supporting a carrier force for up to 60
days), and increasing the runway from 8000 to 12,000 feet to accommodate
heavy-cargo aircraft.25 However, Congress pressured the administration to
delay any new construction until it had pursued all possible avenues that
might lead to a naval arms limitation agreement in the Indian Ocean and to
report back the administration's findings. (The Ford Administration did re-
port back to Congress in April 1976 that such talks would pose several tech-
nical problems, but that these problems were not sufficient to negate talks, a
formulation that clearly indicated a major internal debate over the question.)
Perhaps no littoral country reacted more negatively than India to the news
of the U.S./British decision to establish a communications facility on Diego
Garcia and to the debate over the planned expansion of the facility in the
mid-1970s. India's strong backing of the Lusaka Non-Aligned Summit pro-
posal for a Zone of Peace, according to one Indian analyst, was influenced by
the establishment of the facility.26 Prime Minister Indira Gandhi stated that
"Military bases of outside powers would create tensions and great power
rivalry."27 Y. B. Chavan, Minister of External Affairs, told Parliament on
March 18, 1976, that the facilities on Diego Garcia might possess a nuclear
capability.28 Behind many of the comments of Indian leaders was the assump-
tion that the proximity of Diego Garcia to India (1200 miles from the tip of
southern India) would give the United States the means to assert pressure
against India, perhaps analagous to the Enterprise incident in 1971.
The opinion of other littoral states varied (at least privately), usually
depending on whether the presence of the United States was perceived as
necessary to neutralize any perceived danger from the Soviet Union or from
a potentially unfriendly neighbor. Guy Pauker points out that in Indonesian
military circles during the mid-1970s there was considerable support for the
United States at least to match the Soviet naval presence in the Indian Ocean.
He reported at the time that "Some Indonesian strategists go even fur-
ther . . . and consider it entirely possible that if Great Britain withdrew
completely from the Indian Ocean and the United States made no efforts to
fill at least partially the vacuum, then India might agree with the Soviet Union
on a division of the Indian Ocean area into spheres of influence. According
to this thesis, India would seek a dominant role in Southeast Asia and perhaps
East African waters, leaving control of the high seas to the Soviets."29
The debate in (and out of) Congress in the mid-1970s reveals a lack of
consensus over what U.S. interests were in the Indian Ocean and over whether
the Soviets posed a threat to those interests. One leading critic of an expanded
U.S. naval presence in the Indian Ocean pointed out at the time that the
Soviet Union had "a number of weaknesses and vulnerabilities that have par-
ticular significance in the Indian Ocean."30 Among the "weaknesses" noted
were the lack of fixed-wing aircraft to provide protection for naval forces and
the lack of aircraft for reconnaissance, Western control over most of the
egress and ingress points (making wartime reinforcement to the Indian Ocean
almost impossible), and the lack of reliable and secure shore-based facilities.
However, as others have pointed out, such arguments overlook the political
uses to which the Soviets could put their navy to gain advantages vis-a-vis the
United States, inasmuch as the deployment of Soviet warships to distant waters
strengthens Moscow's image as a great power and thus elicits the appreciation
of nations wanting to use a close relationship with the Soviet Union to sup-
port their own foreign policies. The bottom line to these countering arguments
favoring an enhanced U.S. deployment is that the Soviet Union would be en-
couraged to step up its activities to weaken the position of the West (and its
regional friends) unless the United States were present to induce caution on
the part of the Kremlin and its friends.
Developing Interests of Other Powers

The Soviet Union and the United States are not the only external navies in the
Indian Ocean. The French maintain a significant permanent fleet and Great
Britain deploys intermittently, though it does not, like France, possess onshore
military facilities. The Falklands/Malvinas fighting forced Great Britain to
reconsider naval power projection beyond the NATO area, though most of
the debate has centered on Atlantic sea lanes and possessions. The French for
their part have developed a strategic doctrine justifying a naval presence in
the Indian Ocean (and elsewhere), attributed by its analysts largely to Gen-
eral Andre Beaufre.31
French navy spokesmen, following Beaufre, distinguish between two strat-
egies open to France's enemies: "direct strategy" and "indirect strategy."32
The former is most likely to be carried out in Europe but is deterred by
France's nuclear capability. Consequently, an enemy is likely to try the piece-
meal approach to weaken the country by nibbling away at French interests
outside of Europe. France, as its strategists point out, depends on imported
raw material, much of it from the Indian Ocean area. In addition, France has
declared a 200-nautical-mile economic zone around its numerous island pos-
sessions in the Indian and Pacific oceans. (The cumulative economic zone
area around all its island possessions totals about 4 million square miles.)
France has already begun to explore for oil off the Indian Ocean island of
Kerguelen, and there are beds of mineral-rich nodules close to its possessions
in both the Indian and Pacific oceans. These assets are tempting prizes in the
worldwide competition for resources, and their denial to France would affect
it adversely. In addition to a threat from the Soviet Union, French naval ana-
lysts point out that France's overseas possessions are endangered by the pro-
liferation of arms among Third World states, who either on their own or as
proxies of an adversary (read the Soviet Union) might challenge France.
In response to possible "nibbling" tactics, the French have adopted a
doctrine akin to flexible response, aimed at deterring an adversary by con-
vincing it that France can inflict severe pain if attacked. The French would
incrementally increase the level of violence employed to convince an aggressor

that further action is not worth the effort.
In terms of recent deployments, during most of 1983 the French main-
tained a single task group in the Indian Ocean.33 It has established a pattern
recently of deploying six to eight combatants and three or four ships to the
Indian Ocean. This force usually consists of two submarines, a destroyer, and
four frigates. The French Indian Ocean Squadron is headed by the replenish-
ment oiler La Charente, converted with flagstaff facilities. In response to the
shipping war in the Persian Gulf, France dispatched an aircraft carrier to the
Indian Ocean, as well as mine sweepers and escort patrols to keep open ship-
ping lanes in the Gulf. The French maintain a permanent base for their Indian
Ocean Squadron at Mayotte, astride the entrance to the Mozambique Chan-
nel. There are also French port facilities at Djibouti and La Reunion, where
joint service operations are coordinated through the Indian Ocean.
In addition, the French have cooperated in a low-key fashion with the
U.S. navy. According to one U.S. naval analyst, the French have facilitated
arrangements for fuel and logistics "on many occasions." Moreover, he notes
that the French have relayed to the United States communications traffic of
common interest.34 Such cooperation has increased since the outbreak of the
"tanker war" in 1987.
The only other external power with both a significant strategic reason to
deploy to the Indian Ocean and a developing capability to do so is China.
The Soviet Union continues to be perceived by China as its major security
threat,35 and China presently possesses a strategic capacity to hit targets in
the Asian part of the Soviet Union from its launching sites in northwestern
China, but this capability is vulnerable to a Soviet preemptive counter-force
strike with SS-20s deployed in the Soviet Union. Such a strike would leave
China exposed without a second-strike capability.
The risk of an SS-20 attack on China has led Beijing to follow the exam-
ple of the four other nuclear powers and establish a submarine-based ballistic
missile force. The Chinese have in fact moved to develop an SLBM capability.
A significant step in that direction was taken with the successful test-firing of
China's first sea-launched missile in October 1982, designated to be the
CSS-NX-4, a variant of the T3 IRBM with a range of about 1500 miles.36
This SLBM was reportedly test-fired from an underwater platform and is be-
lieved to be a two-stage solid-propellant missile that is comparable in size
and capability to the early U.S. Polaris system. In addition, China's first
SSBN—the Xia-class—is reported to be on trial.37 One analyst reports that
China will have 12 Xia-class submarines by 1992.38 When the Chinese
SLBMs become fully operational and are deployed abroad, there will be a
need for them to cruise into deeper ocean water to escape detection by Soviet
ASW capabilities. One possible choice is the Indian Ocean. An Indian Ocean
deployment would enable China to target the European heartland of the
Soviet Union.
China, under Deng Ziaoping's leadership, has been moving beyond a coast
guard role for its navy and toward a limited blue-water naval capability that
conceivably could be used as a protective surface fleet for its SSBNs. Over
the last few years the navy has acquired new guided-missile destroyers as well
as some experience in operating at a long distance from home ports; China
has also incorporated additional 15,000-ton oceangoing supply ships and has
mastered the technique of resupply by sea.39
Nonetheless, the Chinese navy is still largely composed of small coastal
defense craft with poor deep-seagoing capabilities.40 Furthermore, Chinese
ships are generally based on Soviet designs dating from the 1940s and 1950s.
Chinese destroyers and frigates are highly vulnerable to enemy submarines
and aircraft because they lack modern sensors and weapons. They have little
in the way of early warning (EW) or electronic countermeasures (ECM)
and, apparently, have yet to deploy an operational SAM system. As a re-
sult, Chinese surface ships are not likely to operate beyond land-based cover
during a crisis.
In addition, the Peoples Liberation Army naval air force is composed
largely of obsolete aircraft and dated technology. China's lack of sophisticated
airborne sensors and seaborne helicopters would make it difficult for the Chi-
nese to detect and then destroy Soviet submarines in wartime. China will
probably not be in a position to deploy to the Indian Ocean until the 1990s
or—more likely—even beyond. This is partly due to budgetary constraints.
The Director of U.S. Naval Intelligence informed a congressional committee
in 1983 that "China will remain principally a regional power for the rest of
the century."41 Major reasons for the slow pace in the development of a
Chinese capability to project power is the low priority accorded the military
in the Four Modernizations program and the high cost of sophisticated tech-
nology. According to one analyst, the Chinese navy is likely to remain in an
inferior position to the army and air force in the bargaining for funds.42
Perhaps an even more fundamental reason reducing the chances for a
deployment to the Indian Ocean is the need for the Chinese to use their assets
to counter the growing Soviet naval forces under the command of its Pacific
Ocean fleet. This fleet is the largest of the Soviet Union's four fleets and more
powerful than the entire Chinese navy.43
Soviet naval forces in the Pacific have grown steadily from the mid-1960s,
from about 50 principal surface combatants to almost 90 today. The addition
to the fleet of such vessels as Kiev-class carriers, Kara-class missile cruisers,
and Krivak-class missile destroyers also signifies a significant qualitative in-
crease in Soviet naval capabilities in the Pacific. This quantitative and quali-
tative improvement can also be seen in sub-surface capabilities in the addition
to the fleet of nuclear-powered submarines like the Delhi Ill-class SSBN,
Victor III—class SSN, and the new class of diesel-electric Kilo conventional
attack submarines. The jump in Soviet warship strength in the region has been
matched by an increase in the striking power of Soviet naval aviation. Since
the mid-1960s the number of Soviet naval aircraft has increased over 50 per-
cent to a current force of about 440 aircraft. Some 30 naval long-range
BACKFIRE B aircraft—deployed to the Far East since 1980 and adding to
air force BACKFIRE in the area—can strike anywhere in China and in much
of the Pacific as well. Moreover, an 8000-man naval infantry division based
near Vladivostok constitutes the largest contingent of naval infantry in the
Soviet navy.
Japan, it might be argued, also has a compelling reason to project naval
force to defend critical Indian Ocean sea lanes linking it to Persian Gulf oil
and to trading partners in Asia, Africa, and Europe. Almost one-half of Ja-
pan's oil imports in 1986 came from the Persian Gulf, and a reduction in sup-
plies would force Tokyo to look elsewhere, forcing up the price of oil. How-
ever, the probability of Japanese naval deployments beyond the 1000-mile
radius now being talked about is low, given the political constraints within
Japan, the restrictions imposed by Article 9 of the Japanese Constitution, and
the sure adverse reaction of several Indian Ocean littoral states (e.g., Indo-
nesia) to any semblance of a resurgent Japanese military capability that
reaches into the South China Sea and beyond. Indeed, it may be some time
before the Japanese even have the capability to protect the area within the
1000-mile radius (measured from Tokyo). However, a Japanese capability of
sea control in this area could affect Indian Ocean deployments in that more
U.S. ships presently stationed in Japan could be moved into the Indian Ocean
without degrading the defense posture in East Asia.
Japan has the technological capacity to develop an SSBN and could, if it
made a determined effort, probably develop an SLBM, although such a pros-
pect is farfetched under present circumstances. Were Japan, for some reason,
to develop an atomic capability (unlikely as long as the United States main-
tains a credible commitment to its defense), the likely route would be SLBMs.
Unlike the United States, the Soviet Union, and China, Japan could not afford
to have a land-based deterrent since it does not have sufficient landmass to
guarantee an assured second-strike capability with land-based missiles. Even
if it were to move along the nuclear weapons route, the chances of a Japanese
deployment in the Indian Ocean seems remote given the virtually guaranteed
opposition of the Southwest Asian states and China to a militarily revived
Japan. The Soviet Union has also become increasingly outspoken in its oppo-
sition to a stronger Japanese military.
Southwest Asia and American Strategy in

the Indian Ocean
In 1979, the United States made a decision to build up a powerful fleet con-
tinuously present in the northwest quadrant of the Indian Ocean. As noted
below, this decision apparently had little to do initially with the Soviet naval
presence, which was relatively modest and no real challenge. Rather, the
threat came from the Soviet capability to threaten the states of Southwest Asia
from the land. The United States could not possibly match this, but it could
develop a sea-based deterrent to a possible attack. What led the United States
to revise the previous low-priority role accorded the Indian Ocean?
The key issue for the United States was (and is) access to oil. Events in
the 1970s and early 1980s (e.g., the 1973 oil embargo, the 1979 Soviet inva-
sion of Afghanistan, the 1980 outbreak of fighting between Iraq and Iran, the
escalation of the "tanker war" in 1987, etc.) underscored the dependence of
the West on Persian Gulf oil and aroused apprehensions that this flow could
be shut off by efforts of the Soviet Union or by radical internal political devel-
opments in the region.44 These events convinced many Americans that the
United States could not rely on others to help protect its interests in the
area, and that therefore the United States had to deploy military forces to the
Indian Ocean. The United States was jolted when NATO allies refused to
permit overflights to resupply Israel in the 1973 war. In addition, the collapse
of the Shah demolished the Nixon Doctrine's hope that powerful regional
states, by maintaining stability within their regions, would reduce the potential
need for U.S. military deployments to Asia. The Soviet occupation of Afghan-
istan, the first use since World War II of Soviet ground forces outside the
Warsaw Treaty Organization states, brought the Indian Ocean to the fore-
front as the third area of U.S. strategic concern.
The United States' commitment to the Gulf was asserted in the so-called
Carter Doctrine, enunciated first during the former president's State of the
Union Address in January 1980. In the wake of the Soviet occupation of
Afghanistan, Carter warned the Kremlin that the United States would resist,
with force if necessary, any attack on the area.45 President Reagan subse-
quently affirmed this doctrine, adding two new features to it: He placed the
Persian Gulf issue within the context of global U.S.-Soviet confrontation and
he pledged U.S. commitment to the security of friendly states. Regarding the
second feature, the President noted at the time of congressional debate over
the sale of Airborne Warning and Control Systems (AWACs) to Saudi Arabia
that the United States would not permit Saudi Arabia to become another Iran.
In line with this, the U.S. administration, in its presentation to Congress, uni-
laterally made a general policy commitment to the security and integrity of
Israel and other friendly states in the area.46
The groundwork for the present U.S. Indian Ocean policy was essentially
put together during the last several months of the Carter Administration. Sec-
retary of Defense Harold Brown stated in his final written budget report to
the Congress in early 1980 that "The Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, its foot-
hold in South Yemen and the Horn of Africa and the Soviet naval presence
in the Red Sea only make a volatile situation potentially more explosive."47
He concluded his introductory remarks with the comment that "The United
States may well be at ... a turning point today. We face a decision that we
have been deferring for too long; we can defer it no longer. We must decide
now whether we intend to remain the strongest nation in the world. The
alternative is to let ourselves slip into inferiority, into a position of weakness
in a harsh world where principles unsupported by power are victimized and
to become a nation with more of a past than a future."48 The FY 1981 Budget
Authority (BA) that he submitted was 5.4 percent higher than the previous
year's request.
Secretary Brown listed a number of steps already taken to meet the per-
ceived threats to the oil-producing areas of the Middle East. The United States
had increased the number of surface combatants under the control of the
commander of the MIDEASTFOR from three to five ships and the number
of naval battle force deployments into the Indian Ocean from three to four
annually.49 "We will need," he added, "to enlarge our presence further."50
Most of those added measures had to do with providing the United States
a more mobile deployment force for use in a crisis threatening access to Per-
sian Gulf oil. The origins of the concept of a rapidly deployable force51 for
use outside the NATO area can be traced to a 1977 order of President Carter
to the Department of Defense to establish such forces. In July 1979, Secretary
Brown stated that the United States was seriously considering an increase in
its security presence in the Indian Ocean/Persian Gulf region and declared
that the "United States would commit our forces [there] if we judged our vital
interests were involved."52 In August 1979, the Joint Chiefs of Staff began to
take steps on the five-year program of the Department of Defense, a process
accelerated after the seizure of the American hostages in Iran in November
1979. In early October 1979, President Carter announced the formation of a
rapid deployment force and later in the month specific guidance was given the
services regarding the establishment of a command structure. On January 4,
1980, administration officials stated that the government had decided to main-
tain a permanent naval presence in the Indian Ocean as a result of the
Afghanistan and Iranian crises. On January 9, it was announced that the
United States would seek military facilities in the region. The Carter Admin-
istration informed Great Britain on January 12 of its intention to enlarge the
facilities on Diego Garcia.
Secretary Brown, in his last Annual Report to the Congress, noted that
the United States had already established a Joint Task Force "to plan, train,
and exercise as well as prepare selected units of the Rapid Deployment Joint
Task Force for deployment," that he had selected a Marine Corps lieutenant
general to command the new task force (known by its acronym as RDJTF)
and had designated specific units as components of it. In addition, he stated
that the United States planned to fund the first 2 of 14 maritime preposition-
ing ships to be acquired over a five-year period, as well as the equipment for
three marine brigades to be placed abroad these ships, and to develop and
produce a C-X aircraft able to hold outsized cargo.53
Indeed, by the end of 1980 the Pentagon had already deployed seven
prepositioned ships to the Indian Ocean at Diego Garcia, increased the carrier
battle group presence in the Arabian Sea from one to two, made available 300
jet transports and 500 turboprop transports for airlift, and had submitted for
congressional review the purchase of eight roll-on/roll-off freight and troop
carriers that could reach Suez from the East Coast of the United States within
11-12 days.54 On the diplomatic front, the United States very quickly worked
out access agreements with Oman (April 9, 1980), Kenya (June 27, 1980),
and Somalia (August 22, 1980).
The RDJTF came into existence formally on March 1, 1980, as part of
the Readiness Command located at MacDill Air Force Base; it was established
as a separate unified command—the U.S. Central Command (USCENTCOM)
—on January 1, 1983. It is responsible for the region surrounding the Persian
Gulf and the Red Sea, as well as states on either side of this region. Within
its geographic purview are:
Northern Tier
Afghanistan
Iran
Pakistan
Arab States
Bahrain Oman
Iraq Qatar
Jordan Saudi Arabia
Kuwait South Yemen
North Yemen United Arab Emirates
Africa
Djibouti Kenya
Egypt Somalia
Ethiopia Sudan
Congressional testimony suggests that USCENTCOM's geographic area of

responsibility (which of course does not include India) was determined by a
judgment of that area that a crisis induced by a Soviet security threat to U.S.
interests in Southwest Asia might require a deployment of U.S. forces to
counter such Soviet pressures.55 The presence of Soviet troops in Afghanistan
was surely a major reason for including Pakistan. Dr. James R. Blaker, Assis-
tant Secretary of Defense for Policy Analysis, stated in congressional testi-
mony that USCENTCOM, like the other unified commands in the Pacific or
Europe, "has operational command of the U.S. ground, air and naval forces
in its geographic area of responsibility."56 CINCPAC maintains its unified
command within the Indian Ocean itself, though USCENTCOM has responsi-
bility for the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf. It also has responsibility for man-
aging security assistance to the countries within its geographic purview.
Committed to the Central Command are:
Army
1 Airborne Division
1 Airmobile/Air Assault Division
1 Mechanized Infantry Division
1 Light Infantry Division
1 Air Cavalry Brigade
Air Force
1 Tactical Fighter Wings**
2 Strategic Bomber Squadrons***
Navy
3 Carrier Battle Groups
Emerging Security Issues: American Perspectivee 31
1 Surface Action Group

5 Maritime Patrol Air Squadrons
Marine Corps
1 1/3 Marine Amphibious Forces*
* A marine amphibious force typically consists of a reinforced marine division and a
marine aircraft wing (containing roughly three times as many tactical fighter/attack air-
craft as an air force TFW).
** Includes support forces, does not include 31/2 TFWs available as attrition fillers.
*** These bombers and associated reconnaissance, command and control, and re-
fueling aircraft make up the air force's strategic projection force.
Source: Report of the Secretary of Defense Caspar W. Weinberger to the Congress
on the FY 1985 Budget, FY 1986 Authorization Request and FY 1985-89 Defense Pro-
grams (Washington, D.C., G.P.O.: 1984), p. 212.
General Robert C. Kingston, then commanding general of USCENTCOM,

informed a Senate committee in mid-1983 that a full deployment to US-
CENTCOM would involve nearly 300,000 personnel.57 A substantial part of
these forces, however, has a prior commitment to NATO or Korea, and in
case of a far-flung crisis might not be available to Southwest Asia. Some of
the troops are tied specifically to it: the 83nd Airborne Division, the 101st
Air Assault Division, five tactical fighter wings and the 7th Marine Amphibi-
ous Brigade, and an air wing from the Marine Amphibious Forces.58 An
1800-man marine amphibious unit is regularly deployed to the Indian Ocean.
Administration officials have consistently specified three threats to U.S.
interests in the Persian Gulf: 59 direct Soviet intervention, regional aggression
by one Gulf country against another, or other civil strife within one of the
Persian Gulf countries. In the first several months after the Soviet occupation
of Afghanistan, there was a tendency to focus on the first threat, though the
latter two are now discussed as the more likely contingencies that would
threaten U.S. interests. Indeed, the major reason for the post-1987 escalation
of U.S. naval forces is the threat to shipping lanes caused by the Iran-Iraq
war.
Nonetheless, the large-scale commitment to USCENTCOM is intended to
serve as a deterrent to Soviet moves against the Persian Gulf states, clearly a
worst-case scenario and not now an immediate threat. In the latter two cases,
congressional testimony by administration spokesmen suggests that the United
States hopes to reduce the dangers of threats from both the Soviet Union and
an assertive Iran by providing friendly states with the means to protect them-
selves, by encouraging greater regional cooperation—and by using direct U.S.
force only as a last resort and only when invited to do so. General Kingston
told a congressional committee: "I believe in most cases it would be inappro-
priate for US combat power to be associated with the most likely threats."
Rather, "The most likely situation that I envision is that the United States
would be asked to assist a friendly nation by providing communication and
in-country transportation, namely, tactical air."60 Then Defense Deputy Secre-
tary Frank Carlucci seconded this in separate testimony by noting that "we
hope to rely on friendly states to provide military forces [to meet the latter
two crises]."61
The arms sales and assistance from the United States to littoral states, as
explained by executive officials in congressional testimony, seem to constitute
a much modified version of the Nixon Doctrine—providing states the means
to resist Soviet aggression and the confidence to resist Soviet blandishments.
The statistics show that Saudi Arabia and Egypt, or the states within the
USCENTCOM area, are by far the largest recipients of U.S. arms deliveries
since 1980, again underscoring the importance that the United States attaches
to these two states. (See Table 1.3 for recent U.S. military sales.)
In the event that the United States and regional states feel it necessary for
the United States to respond (to any contingency) with troops, U.S. defense
analysts emphasize that such a deployment in the Persian Gulf area would
need substantial combat power.62 If the contingency area is accessible, then an
amphibious assault could be undertaken: naval units would have to be present
to establish local sea control, land-based or carrier-based aircraft would have
to be available in order to achieve local air superiority, and a secure beach-
head would have to be established in order to commence resupply and to rein-
force the assaulting forces.
To be effective, analysts argue, the response to a crisis in the Indian Ocean
would probably have to be achieved within a matter of days by smaller, highly
trained units. There was considerable skepticism on this score when the rapid
deployment scheme was announced, but there is more confidence now that it
can be done. After the Bright Star-82 exercises (which involved the transport
of over 6000 U.S. troops to Egypt, Sudan and Oman), General Kingston
noted that with advance notice (4-5 days) he could expect to get an airborne
brigade "on the ground" in the Persian Gulf region within 48 hours, and an
airborne division within 10-14 days.63 One analyst64 estimates that the United
States could now dispatch within 36 hours to the scene of crisis the marines
already stationed in the Indian Ocean and a 1200-man marine amphibious
unit from the U.S. fleet in the Mediterranean; a paratroop battalion from the
82nd Division within 48 hours; and a full brigade from the 82nd Airborne
Division within 4 days. Still other units that could be expected to arrive
quickly are: a reinforced paratroop battalion (stationed in Italy) with dedi-
cated aircraft and trained in mountain warfare, 1200 men from the 7th
Marine Brigade stationed in California, the 6th Air Cavalry Attack Brigade,
combined elements of the 101st Airborne Division, and the 24th Mechanized
Infantry Division.
The United States has concentrated on improving its air- and sealift capa-
bilities primarily to create a more credible deterrent against any Soviet thrust
into the region. However, it could also be employed to help blunt an Iranian
thrust across the Persian Gulf, though clearly the U.S. would want to avoid
such a deployment, and has provided equipment and training to the Arab Gulf
states to give them the means to protect their own interests. Besides the Near
Term Positioning Ships (NTPS) stationed at Diego Garcia, the U.S. plans to
charter 13 TAKX prepositioned self-sustaining roll-on/roll-off ships to sup-
port three marine amphibious brigades (47,000 men); four or five of these
vessels will have the capability of carrying supplies and equipment for one
marine brigade. The marines airlifted to meet the ships would take a 2-day
supply with them on the aircraft; the ships would carry another 30 days of
supply.65 Then Defense Secretary Weinberger announced in early 198466 that
the first TAKX force will be ready in late 1984 and the second and third in
1985 and 1986, respectively. The last one will be deployed to Diego Garcia,
replacing six NTPSs, and the other two will be deployed outside the South-
west Asia area. In addition to this, a program is under way to procure and
modify eight SL-7 container ships with partial roll-on/roll-off capability.
These ships, capable of 33 knots, could arrive in the Persian Gulf area within
111/2 days after leaving Norfolk, transiting the Suez Canal. Eight such SL-7s
can carry an entire army mechanized division.
Regarding airlift capabilities, in January 1983 the United States an-
nounced an airlift program calling for procurement of five C-5Bs (to move
assembled heavy equipment) and 44 KC-10 aircraft (which can operate as a
transport aircraft or a tanker—or both simultaneously). In late 1983, the
administration began a long-proposed program to enhance the capabilities of
the Civil Reserve Air Fleet (CRAF) by adding cargo-convertible features to
existing wide-body passenger aircraft. The U.S. Defense Department estimates
that by 1990 the United States will expand its inter-theater airlift capability
by about 75 percent and more than double its ability to move outsized equip-
ment by air.
The major objective of USCENTCOM, according to administration spokes-
men, is to serve as a deterrent—especially against Soviet action—and deci-
sions about its size, combat equipment, and mobility are influenced by its
expected impact on the international behavior of other states and groups.
Hence the emphasis on lift capacity, prepositioning, and demonstrated capa-
bility of moving troops (through regularly scheduled exercises) to crisis areas
to demonstrate to others that the United States could, if needed, move quickly
to meet one of the three contingencies noted above. There is little disagree-
ment that, from a military strategic standpoint (though not necessarily from
a political one), the deterrence objectives of USCENTCOM would be better
served by a permanent military presence closer than Diego Garcia to the Per-
sian Gulf. The countries of the region are presently reluctant to grant the
United States the right to station permanently troops on their soil. However,
their desire for U.S. naval protection of sea lanes has led to enhanced cooper-
ation.
Arrangements for access (in a crisis) and prepositioning agreements67
have been worked out with Oman, Kenya, and Somalia. In Oman, the United
States has expanded the runways at Masirah to handle heavy transports and
fighter bombers, and construction is now underway for facilities to store
water, fuel, and ammunition. The runway can handle C-141s, C-130s, and
P-3s. The United States can also use the air base at Thamrit (in Dofar prov-
ince) and port and naval facilities at Salalah near the South Yemeni border.
Egypt has offered access to the base at Ras Banas located on the Red Sea,
where the Egyptian government is upgrading the airfield and port facilities,
though U.S. funding for Ras Banas has been delayed. There are also small
construction projects in Kenya and Somalia. Kenya has permitted the United
States the right to use airfield and port facilities at Mombasa, and Somalia,
its seaports and airfields at Mogadishu and Berbera. In addition, Bahrain, site
of the original U.S. naval facilities in the Persian Gulf region, signed an agree-
ment in 1977 that provided the United States with essentially the same access
rights as before.
Saudi Arabia, while not concluding an access agreement with the United
States, has spent large sums on its own for port and air facilities that might be
used by the United States in a crisis situation if Jidda so permits. The advan-
tage of the Saudi air and naval base at Dharan (as well as the airfield at Ras
Banas) is that both are convenient staging areas for air operations in the Gulf.
In addition, Dharan and Ras Banas (800 miles and 1200 miles from northern
Iran, respectively) would be well within B-52 range (5000 miles) of a poten-
tial Southwest Asia conflict involving Soviet intervention in Iran. Finally, the
1982 U.S. basing agreement with Turkey, according to some reports, gives the
U.S. authority to build NATO air bases at Konya, Van, and Kars in eastern
Turkey.68 Even though these facilities are designated exclusively for NATO
use, a Soviet attack into Iran along Turkey's eastern borders might be con-
strued as a threat to NATO requiring action to stem the Soviet advance.
In addition to these arrangements, facilities on Diego Garcia have been
expanded considerably. Since 1979, the United States has spent hundreds of
millions of dollars for additional construction, as well as maintaining 18
NTPSs there to support a 12,000-man marine amphibious brigade for two
weeks of combat. Its protected harbor can shelter a carrier task group, and
its extended runways can handle B-52s. But Diego Garcia, 1400 miles from
the Persian Gulf, is not an ideal staging area and remains an "austere" facility
in comparison to U.S. facilities on Guam and in the Philippines. While Diego
Garcia does enable the United States to deploy naval forces and reconnais-
sance aircraft to the Indian Ocean with greater dispatch and to maintain
equipment for rapid insertion of a limited number of combat troops, it does
not provide the capability of sustaining a major operation for any length of
time.
The escalation of the Gulf "tanker war," resulting in over a hundred at-
tacks on shipping in 1986, led Kuwait, a prime target of Iranian attacks, to
ask the United States and the Soviet Union in late 1986 to protect its tanker
fleet. Following a swift Soviet agreement either to lease or reflag Kuwaiti
tankers (or both), the United States responded that it would reflag all the
tankers Kuwait wanted reflagged, which is probably what Kuwait wanted in
the beginning since it almost immediately responded positively to the Ameri-
can offer.69
The reactive U.S. move was probably governed by an American desire to
prevent Moscow from becoming responsible for protecting Western interest
in access to Persian Gulf oil and to prevent the Soviets from developing closer
cooperative arrangements with the Gulf states. The United States provides
naval escorts to the reflagged tankers and the growing alarm of the Arab Gulf
states toward Iranian aggressiveness has led most of them to sanction port
visits by U.S. ships. Oman allows P-3 patrol planes operating out of Diego
Garcia to use its facilities. The Saudis have agreed to use their American-made
AWACS to maintain patrol over the southern half of the Gulf.70 The Saudis
also have reportedly allowed two of their four minesweepers to help clear
Kuwaiti waters as part of a joint operation with the United States and Kuwait.
The UAE has agreed to allow Saudi AW ACS to overfly its territory. Kuwait in
mid-1987 reportedly agreed to allow landing rights to U.S. aircraft involved
in the reflagging operations and to supply free fuel to U.S. ships participating
in the escort operation.71
While there is considerably more cooperation with Washington on the
part of the Arab Gulf states, they are far from granting base rights to the
United States. Indeed, the increased U.S. involvement with the security of the
Arab Gulf states has set off a debate in the U.S. about the appropriate levels of
American involvement. Perhaps the arguments against the U.S. reflagging
operation specifically and close security cooperation with the Arab Gulf states
generally were most succinctly summarized by Robert E. Hunter in testimony
before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee.72 He argued that the United
States would now be perceived by Iran, the "strategic prize" in the Gulf, as a
belligerent and thus invite a confrontation that would drive Iran closer to the
Soviet Union. Such a development would undermine a major strategic Ameri-
can objective in the Gulf. Still others criticize the administration for not re-
sorting to the War Powers Act when deciding to reflag and escort the Kuwaiti
tankers. Since the initial furor, the criticism has died down, in part because
the Iranians have not threatened the U.S. ships and in part because of a recog-
nition that access to Persian Gulf oil is critically important to Western in-
terests.
The "tanker war" has resulted in a considerable expansion of Western de-
ployments to the area, including that of the United States. The Soviet's naval
contingent, in contrast, has remained rather stable, perhaps reflecting Mos-
cow's recognition that the buildup is not directed against it. However, the
Soviet Union has deployed naval warships to the Persian Gulf for the first
time, and their task is primarily to escort Soviet-flagged ships. The American
decision to increase its deployments brought U.S. strength approximately to
the 1982 level, when the United States cut the number of carrier battle groups
from two to one.
In April 1986, U.S. naval ships were ordered to remain for a longer time
in the Persian Gulf, and the deployment of the carrier Kitty Hawk was ex-
tended.73 Then Secretary of Defense Weinberger ordered the battle group to
begin spending its full deployment closer to the Strait of Hormuz.74 Within a
week of the May 11, 1987, reflagging announcement, the Iraqis inadvertently
attacked the U.S.S. Stark, which caused Washington to rethink the potential
threat to the more heavily engaged fleet. On May 21, the decision was made
to increase the MIDEASTFOR from six to nine ships.75 At the end of June,
a battleship group was ordered to join the carrier battle group already in the
Arabian Sea.78 After the reflagged Bridgeton tanker struck a mine off Farsi
island in July, minesweepers and RH-5B Sea Stallion helicopters were trans-
ferred from Diego Garcia to the Persian Gulf.
Other Rapid Deployment Forces

The United States is not the only country developing a rapid deployment force
for potential use in the Indian Ocean region (and elsewhere). France and
Great Britain, as well as several Persian Gulf states collectively, are in the
process of doing so.
All these countries are sensitive to the potential for Soviet thrusts into
Southwest Asia, and, according to the prescription of one school of strate-
gists, they might decide that a quick insertion of troops in an imminent crisis
area may be enough to dissuade the Soviet Union from intervening in a crisis.
They also have an interest in preserving access to Persian Gulf oil. The rapid
deployment forces of France and Great Britain are closely tied to employment
in Europe, and the Gulf Cooperation Council forces could be used against
neighboring hostile powers. In future crises, particularly any involving the
Soviet Union, the various governments mentioned here may decide that the
military objective can best be achieved through joint efforts.
France already has a sizeable rapid reaction force, and the new Force
d'Action Rapide (FAR) is planned to number 47,000 and be considerably
better equipped and organized for independent deployment, as is the case of
USCENTCOM.77 When fully established, FAR will include an air mobile
division, a light infantry division, a parachute division, a marine infantry
division, an Alpine division, and a logistics brigade. Except for the light ar-
mored brigade, all the others are existing divisions. France has already sta-
tioned about 5000 rapidly deployable troops in Djibouti.
The British, after a vigorous debate concerning the size and functions of
their deployment force, decided to develop a lean force of only 5000.78 They
announced plans to purchase about six additional C-130 cargo planes from
the United States to give this force a greater mobility in a crisis.
The French and the British now maintain the largest non-littoral navies
in the Indian Ocean, after that of the United States and the Soviet Union,
though the French have surpassed that of the Soviets in fire power and both
navies have more modern ships in the Indian Ocean than the Soviet Union.79
The British had maintained what it refers to as an "armilla" of two com-
batants and one auxiliary in the Gulf since October 1980. In 1987, the En-
glish reportedly expanded this to three combatants, four minesweepers, and
two auxiliaries, the additional ships needed to escort British-flagged vessels.
In mid-1987, the French dispatched the aircraft carrier Clemenceau, two
combatants, and an auxiliary to the Gulf of Oman as part of the preparations
for French military escort of its own commercial vessels. The Indian Ocean
is one of the French naval commands (ALIndian) and it normally includes a
fleet tanker, headquarters of ALIndian, five escort ships, one patrol craft,
two depot and repair ships, and one landing ship. France is the only country
that has so far announced a policy of assisting any ship threatened by the
Iranians.
In addition to the French and the British, other NATO allies have de-
ployed ships to the Persian Gulf area. The Dutch and the Belgians announced
their intention to send minesweepers in early October, 1987. Italy reportedly
conducted its first escorted convoy of Italian-flagged ships into the gulf in late
1987. West Germany, whose constitution forbids the use of its armed forces
outside the NATO area, announced that its ships would fill gaps in NATO
areas brought on by the Persian Gulf deployments of its allies. It is reasonable
to assume that considerable logistical cooperation and intelligence sharing
exists between these NATO allies.
Missions of the Soviet Navy in the Indian Ocean
As already mentioned, the initial reasons for a Soviet deployment to the In-
dian Ocean in the late 1960s seemed governed largely by political motives
and, to a lesser degree, by concerns regarding a U.S. SLBM deployment.
Nonetheless, there are many analysts who argue that another major reason for
the forward deployment of the Soviet fleet is sea denial—guerrilla warfare on
the sea.80 Retired U.S. Admiral Robert J. Hanks, one of the leading pro-
ponents of this view, argues that a "half dozen Soviet submarines deployed
along oil transit lanes in the Indian Ocean and South Atlantic Ocean . . .
could demand an immense U.S. or allied effort to counter, in order to ensure
the survival of enough tankers to keep adequate supplies of petroleum avail-
able."81 He claims, in addition, that the Soviet establishment of bases at or
near key choke points (e.g., Soviet facilities in Ethiopia and South Yemen
close to the Bab el-Mandeb and at Cam Ranh Bay astride trade routes to the
Strait of Malacca) significantly increases the naval forces required by the
United States to retain sea control.82 Much of the U.S. Department of Defense
testimony before congressional committees suggests considerable support for
this view, and it is at least one of the arguments for a 600-ship U.S. navy,
including increasing the number of aircraft carriers from 13 to 15.
Still another argument regarding Soviet deployment is that the Kremlin,
in response to the possibility of a two-front threat, has deployed forward to
outflank both China and NATO from the sea.83 One advocate of this view
argues that "By enveloping Europe on both its wet flanks, the Soviet position
would coalesce with that in the Indian Ocean into a strategic combination
which surrounds the Arabian Peninsula, extends into the Persian Gulf and
stretches to the coast of India."84
However, the relatively modest Soviet naval deployments to the Indian
Ocean do suggest more limited goals of ASW activity and naval diplomacy.85
The deployment level established in the early 1970s and the types of ships
involved have remained relatively constant with periodic surges that usually
accompanied a crises-induced dispatch of additional U.S. warships to the
Indian Ocean. In March 1974, the Soviets, according to one report,86 had
one cruiser, seven other combatants (destroyers and destroyer escorts), one
amphibious ship, and 17 support ships. Ten years later, during 1983-84,
there were on the average about two to three submarines, eight surface com-
batants, two amphibious ships, and 12 support ships.87 The relatively small
number of surface combatants since 1974 (about ten on an average in any
given year) and submarines (two on the average for the same period) suggests
that sea denial and interdiction are not major missions. The Soviets have not
responded to the Western buildup in the wake of the 1986-87 shipping war
in the Gulf, probably to avoid undermining ties with Iran and to be able to
portray themselves as a potential nonthreatening mediator. In addition, the
Soviet Union's economic interests are only marginally affected by the shipping
war, while the West has a major stake in keeping the sea lanes open.
The figures on Soviet deployments noted above do not include the rela-
tively recent year-round deployment of the Soviet navy to the South China
Sea, where currently between 16 and 22 ships operate out of Cam Ranh Bay
in Vietnam. This deployment involves on the average 2-4 submarines, 4-6
surface ships, 10-12 support ships, as well as TU-95 BEAR and TU-16
BADGER reconnaissance and strike aircraft.88
The Soviet Union has maintained a continuous presence in the South
China Sea since January 1979, and it was significantly expanded after the
February 1979 Sino-Vietnamese fighting. One defense analyst, scrutinizing
deployments there, concludes that the Soviet deployment in the South China
Sea has an ASW emphasis directed largely against the PRC.89
Acquiring facilities became an important objective after the Soviet Union
decided to deploy regularly to the Indian Ocean, and it has made a concerted
effort to acquire bases and facilities there. Its first overtures were to India
and Pakistan in the late 1960s, but these were unsuccessful. However, Mos-
cow was to be more successful later in countries that were in need of Soviet
security assistance against either domestic or external foes.
The first successful Soviet foothold was Somalia.90 Before President Barre
terminated access rights to the Soviet Union in November 1977, the Soviet
navy used Berbera as a supply base (denied at the time by both sides, but
obvious after the Soviets were ejected). The Soviets added barracks, a repair
barge, and a floating drydock that permitted repairs and overhauling of naval
ships as large as guided-missile destroyers. The Soviet Union also constructed
POL facilities and expanded the airfield near Berbera to over 12,000 feet in
length, enabling it to handle all types of Soviet aircraft, including the TU-
BEAR D long-range reconnaissance aircraft and the 11-38 MAY. In addition,
there was a missile-handling and storage facility and a communications sta-
tion used for command and control of the Indian Ocean Squadron.
In South Yemen, the Soviet Union now has access to port facilities at
Aden and the use of Aden International and Al Anad airfields.91 A large
structure is now under construction in the mountains behind Aden by the
Russians. According to one source, it is intended to house communications
and command facilities for Soviet naval forces throughout the Indian Ocean.92
In Ethiopia, there is a Soviet-constructed naval facility on Dahlak Island, con-
sisting of storage buildings, a floating drydock, floating piers, and navigational

facilities. The Soviet Union reportedly has unrestricted use of this Ethiopian
site, making it for all intents a base in the classical sense of that word. The
Soviet Union also stages reconnaissance flights from an airfield at Asmara.
In Vietnam, the Soviets use airfield and port facilities at Da Nang and Cam
Ranh Bay, which includes a floating drydock. They also maintain "anchor-
ages" at scattered locations in the Indian Ocean. Finally, Moscow has access
to several airfields in Afghanistan, which Moscow could use (though appar-
ently does not do so now) for reconnaissance and ASW activities in the In-
dian Ocean.
Between 1968 and 1980, the Soviet Union routinely maintained a more
impressive standing capability in the Indian Ocean than did the U.S. MID-
EASTFOR, which normally consisted of a minor combatant flagship and two
destroyers. However, the Soviets have never been able to match the U.S.
navy's ability to respond quickly to crisis in the region.93 The United States
has been able to move attack carrier task groups from both the Mediterranean
and Pacific Fleets and thus establish strategic and naval superiority. For ex-
ample, during the 1971 Indo-Pakistani war, Task Group 74, built around the
U.S.S. Enterprise, reached the Andaman Sea on December 14, 1971, three
days earlier than the first of two Soviet groups dispatched. A similar situation
developed two years later in the Arabian Sea during the Arab-Israeli war and
again in late 1979, when the U.S. Embassy in Tehran was seized. Much of the
Soviet problem on this score can probably be traced to the uncertainty over
the availability of the Suez Canal during a crisis, forcing the Kremlin to draw
on the distant Pacific fleet rather than on warships in the Mediterranean or
the Black Sea. The deployment to the South China Sea alleviates the time
factor somewhat, though this strategy is undoubtedly tied to a China mission,
and increasing regional responsibilities of the Soviet Pacific fleet make the
Indian Ocean an increasing burden to the Soviet Union—but one it clearly
seems willing to bear. The deployment of the first Soviet aircraft carriers,
expected in the 1990s, will, however, give the Soviet Union a significantly
enhanced capability to "show the flag" and to engage in power projection
missions. However, geography (at egress points, the Soviet navy can be
bottled up) and greater U.S. firepower make it unlikely that Moscow would
want to put its small number of aircraft carriers in such an exposed position
during any crisis.
The most significant Soviet challenge to U.S. interests in Southwest Asia
does not come from its naval presence in the Indian Ocean, but rather from
the Soviet air and ground forces located in the southern military districts of
the Soviet Union itself and the potential use of airfields in Afghanistan, the
closest of which (Shindad) is located only 350 miles from the Strait of Hor-
muz. The United States cannot match such land-based power. It is this asym-
metry of land forces that has led the United States to establish maritime
supremacy in the Indian Ocean vis-a-vis the Soviet Union and to establish
a rapid deployment force and USCENTCOM. This factor has also influenced
the American (and others') approach to the Indian
deliberations-—that is, U.S. interests would be adversely affected unless the

larger question of Soviet hinterland forces were brought into the discussions.
In this regard, the Soviet willingness to use troops in Afghanistan, which
sent shock waves through Western capitals, and the uncertain situation in
Iran (whose domestic stability might be severely strained in the wake of Aya-
tollah Khomeini's death) forced American strategists to reevaluate the prob-
abilities for Soviet intervention in Southwest Asia, either overtly or covertly.
With its strong military potential along the frontiers of coastal states of the
northwestern reaches of the Indian Ocean, and only a few hours' flying time
from the Persian Gulf and the Arabian Sea, the Soviet Union was suddenly
perceived as the most powerful Indian Ocean hinterland state.
Stationed in the southern military districts of the Soviet Union94 and fac-
ing Southwest Asia are 29 divisions, more than 800 tactical aircraft, and
400 helicopters, not counting the forces that have been in Afghanistan. While
the units there (excluding, of course, any troops in Afghanistan) are now at
a relatively low level of readiness, they are receiving more modern tanks,
armored personnel carriers, and other replacements for outdated equipment.
Several air defense regiments equipped with older aircraft have been replaced
by ground attack aircraft and airfields have been modified to handle them.
The deep-penetration FENCER (radius 1100 miles) is deployed in the south-
ern Soviet Union and could attack targets throughout Southwest Asia, and
other tactical aircraft could extend the range into the Arabian Sea by using
airfields in Afghanistan. In addition, such long-range strike aircraft as the
BACKFIRE (unrefueled combat radius of 550 kilometers), the TU-95
BEAR (unrefueled combat radius of 8300 kilometers), and the soon-to-be-
commissioned BLACKJACK (unrefueled combat radius of 4500 miles) pose
a serious threat to U.S. naval forces in the Arabian Sea and beyond.
Consequently, maintaining maritime supremacy and a credible rapid de-
ployment force is the essential ingredient of the U.S. trip-wire strategy in
Southwest Asia—getting forces quickly to the scene and placing the escala-
tion burden on the Kremlin. Some defense analysts argue that it is not now
necessary for the United States to station troops on a permanent status in
forward positions (and thus avoid the adverse political fallout from such
deployment),95 since the United States is likely to have sufficient warning
time to respond to Soviet action, were it to make the political decision to do
so. More than 60 percent of the Soviet troops in the Caucasus, Transcaucasus,
and Turkestan are in a Category III level of readiness, and it would take some
time to call up reservists and to prepare and equip them for intervention.
The Soviet Indian Ocean Squadron as now constituted has a limited offensive
capability. It would need to be reinforced extensively from the Pacific and/or
Northern fleets in order credibly to challenge the U.S. carrier task forces.
Such reinforcement would take 18 days to a month. The availability of U.S.
lift capability is thus the key to deterring an actual Soviet attack. In addition,
a 600-ship fleet with 15 carriers, the current administration's goal, would
enable the United States to deploy attack carrier groups to the Indian Ocean
without at the same time degrading resources in other potential combat thea-
ters, thus permitting the United States to establish naval superiority necessary
for keeping the sea and air lanes open for troop reinforcements from the
United States and elsewhere. Past Soviet behavior suggests that when faced
with the prospect of a resolute U.S. response, Moscow has drawn back from
taking aggressive action.
The recent buildup of U.S. forces in and around the Persian Gulf has not
resulted in a reactive Soviet buildup in the area, a marked departure from
previous Soviet behavior.96 This is perhaps a product of General Secretary
Gorbachev's more prudent policies, but more likely it reflects a Soviet recog-
nition that the recent buildup is not threatening to Soviet interests. Indeed,
the Soviets have reacted angrily to several Iranian attacks on their shipping
in the Persian Gulf and have since 1986 escorted Soviet-flagged vessels carry-
ing war material to Iraq. By late 1987, Soviet officials claimed that there were
six Soviet frigates, three minesweepers, and a small intelligence-gathering
ship in the immediate vicinity of the Persian Gulf.97
Expansion of Littoral Navies
In the past decade or so, many Indian Ocean states have significantly up-
graded and expended their naval forces, though few (with the possible ex-
ceptions of India and—in a more limited sense—Australia, the two largest
littoral state navies, respectively) possess a projective capability. These two
states, unlike most other littoral states (with the exception of South Africa),
have the trained personnel, indigenous manufacturing capability, and con-
tinuous political support of the navy to permit the development of a blue-
water capability.
A particular favorite of littoral navies has been the fast patrol boat. There
are several reasons for this interest in small warships. The increasing impor-
tance of offshore oil, gas, and mineral resources has led many littoral states
to extend their sovereignty over large areas of the ocean, and small warships
can be used to enforce these claims. Recent technological developments
(light, reliable, and precise anti-ship missiles) have made relatively small
platforms a potent challenge to large ships and large navies that might in-
trude into offshore areas. Fast patrol boats armed with anti-ship missiles can
deny others easy entry, and can do so relatively inexpensively.
Still another reason for the expansion of littoral navies (and military
forces generally) has been the existence of regional adversaries. Almost every
region around the Indian Ocean exhibits intra-regional tensions: South Africa
and its black neighbors; Somalia, Sudan, and Ethiopia; Iran and Iraq; India
and Pakistan; the ASEAN states; and the Indochinese states (and possible
renewed Indonesian-Australian tensions). External powers, including the
superpowers, have often been willing arms suppliers to one side or the other
(or even both sides) in an effort to enhance their own political influence.
Often, the ultimate objective of such assistance is to gain basing and over-
flight rights to protect and advance their own interests. Publicly, the littoral
states often appear united in international forums against external naval pres-
ences; but in fact they tend to be divided between those more powerful coun-
tries that could expect to be dominant in their part of the Indian Ocean if
the navies of external powers were to leave and those who could foresee
domination over them by their more or less friendly neighbors. Addressing
himself to the South Asian situation, R. R. Chari, a former Director of the
Institute for Defence Studies and Analyses, argued in an essay that an Indian
quest for a blue-water capability would alarm Indian neighbors and would
"militate against proposals that the Indian Ocean be converted into a Zone
of Peace."98
It is no secret that several littoral states have avidly sought from the
superpowers (and other external powers as well) arms, proxy troops, and
even a nearby naval presence to protect the government from either a do-
mestic or regional challenge or even from the possible blandishments of an
outside power. Unless regional states can put their own domestic and regional
houses in order, littoral states will continue to bid for support from the out-
side, and the superpowers are likely to remain players in this game. Kuwait,
for example, recently turned to the Soviet Union for a wide range of sophis-
ticated weapons after the United States had turned down its requests. For the
Soviet Union, this is not merely a commercial transaction. It expects to en-
hance its influence in the Persian Gulf area. Kuwait subsequently turned to
the Soviet Union and the United States for help in protecting the shipping
lanes of the Gulf from Iranian attack. Given the Arab Gulf states' fears of
Iran, it is not surprising that they have not opposed the protective role pro-
vided to Kuwaiti tankers.
Along the east coast of Africa, the Republic of South Africa, the economic
and military giant of sub-Saharan Africa (if not all Africa), maintains the
most effective navy. Its naval training establishment and dockside technicians
are by far the best in Africa, and it possesses an indigenous capability to
construct sophisticated warships. However, its navy is small (about 6700
men), cut off from Western military technology, and increasingly focused
on close-by protection of the republic's coastline and harbors. The present
leadership seems far less concerned about seeking help from the West (or
extending help to the West) than previously, reflecting perhaps a greater
self-confidence about its own ability to protect itself from aggressors. Pretoria
has announced that South Africa can no longer be relied upon to defend
the sea lanes around the Cape of Good Hope, and that this goal, if carried
out at all, must become the responsibility of the Western powers." In line
with this policy, the 1984 edition of Jane's Fighting Ships100 notes that the
only projected naval building program of South Africa is fast attack craft,
which are to be armed with surface-to-surface missiles. Still another source101
notes that the government plans to construct a number of 1500-ton corvettes
to be armed with surface-to-surface, surface-to-air, and anti-submarine weap-
ons. South Africa's confidence, regarding its neighbors at least, is well-
founded. All possess minuscule navies, primarily aging patrol ships from the
colonial era. Given their preoccupation with domestic instability, this is not
likely to change any time soon.
The Indian Ocean island republics also possess minuscule navies. Many
in the West feared that the high potential for instability in some of them,
combined with some recent leftist political victories, would result in govern-
ments more favorably inclined to the Soviet Union. This has not happened
in Mauritius and the Seychelles, two states of particular concern on this score.
Leaders in both countries recognize that the West offers far more economically
than does the Soviet Union—and economic growth is the key to some kind
of stable political order. Indeed, Mauritius has effectively dropped its de-
mands for the incorporation of Diego Garcia, and the Seychelles is now allow-
ing NATO warships to call without requiring them to guarantee that they
have no nuclear armaments on board.102
A massive flow of arms has poured into the Horn of Africa over the past
several years, though little has been spent on naval forces. Ethiopia, for
example, has only a 1500-person navy and a handful of ships. Somalia has
about 600 naval personnel, and its Soviet-supplied ships—mainly patrol
craft—are likely to deteriorate unless replacements and refits can be arranged.
Djibouti similarly has a tiny navy, but the stationing of French Foreign Legion
troops and naval units there is security insurance against outside foes.
Egypt possesses a modest naval force, about one-half the personnel size
of India's. However, with 16 submarines and 4 more on order, the Egyptian
navy packs a considerably more potent sub-surface threat to hostile intruders
than does the Indian navy. Most of Egypt's ships operate in the Mediterra-
nean, where one perceived threat is the growing naval capabilities of Libya
(most of it supplied by the Soviet Union), which now possesses 33 anti-ship
guided-missile-carrying ships and 6 submarines, with 2 more on order.103 On
the Red Sea, Egypt, like Sudan, relies on land-based air defenses to protect
its shores.
The oil-rich Arab states of Southwest Asia have poured enormous
amounts of money into defensive systems since the oil price hikes of the
early 1970s. Saudi Arabia, the richest of them, has the largest naval program,
and it is nearing completion of a U.S.-designed naval expansion program.
The principal new combatants included in the program are nine PGG-1-class
missile boats and four missile corvettes armed with eight Harpoon missiles
each.104 In addition, Saudi Arabia has purchased four mine sweepers, eight
landing craft, and some 35 coastal patrol boats. Moreover, two small frigates
and two 10,475-ton replenishment oilers were delivered in 1986.105
The smaller Arab Persian Gulf states have all assembled navies built
around missile-armed fast patrol boats. Perhaps the best in terms of training
and indigenous technical capabilities is the 2000-man Omani navy, now
rapidly moving away from British tutelage and taking full command of its
own resources with Omani personnel. The acquisition of 2000-ton landing
ships reflects a requirement for all-weather open-ocean capabilities along
Oman's long Arabian Sea coastline. Oman is undoubtedly concerned about
South Yemen's Soviet-supplied navy, which includes a Ropucha-class LST,

the only foreign fleet to receive it, and four smaller Polnochny-B-class land-
ing ships.106
At the other end of the Persian Gulf, Kuwait's well-designed missile-
equipped coastal force has not yet been challenged by Iran, even though
Kuwait continues to serve as a major port for war items destined for Iraq.
In 1987, Iran shelled Kuwaiti territory, undoubtedly to warn it to reduce
the level of assistance. The Kuwaiti decision to seek superpower protection
of its tankers underscores Kuwait's fears of even more damaging Iranian
moves.
Iraq for its part has a modest blue-water navy on order, including four
frigates and six corvettes armed with surface-to-surface and surface-to-air
missiles, but they and other ships on order face the daunting task of transiting
through a relatively narrow sea threatened by an implacable enemy. Even if
those ships were to reach home ports, they would face the danger of attack
from nearby Iranian airfields. The Iranian navy, once a significant force with
blue-water capabilities (including three destroyers, four frigates, and four
corvettes), suffers from lack of maintenance, personnel, and spare parts for
its U.S.-supplied inventory. Despite its deteriorating condition, the Iranian
Navy still has some punch and conceivably could assist the air force (possess-
ing U.S.-supplied F-4s, F-5s, and F-14s) in attacks on selective targets in
the Persian Gulf in retaliation against Iraq's attack, using AM-39 Exocet-
equipped Super Etendard fighter bombers supplied by France, on shipping
at Kharg Island. So far, however, Iran's navy has not ventured far out of
port, but its Gulf neighbors fear Iranian use of Chinese-supplied Silk-worm
missiles and attacks on shipping by patrol boats and by mine-laying opera-
tions.
India is the prominent exception to the essentially coastal navies men-
tioned so far. India is the only littoral state, other than Australia, to possess
a projection capability—in the form of two aircraft carriers, missile destroy-
ers, and ocean submarines. Possession of two replenishment ships, five sup-
port tankers, and one repair ship107 enables India to sustain a naval task force
in more distant waters of the Indian Ocean. The Navy continues to expand;
its 1985-86 budget grew by 6.5 percent to $6.4 billion.108 Among the recent
acquisitions was a second aircraft carrier from Great Britain. There are
enough fleet escorts to sustain a second carrier battle group. A fourth Soviet-
built destroyer arrived in mid-1987, and two more are under construction.
The Indian navy's successful effort to bottle up the Pakistani navy in
1971 gave it a mission, and thus a powerful argument vis-a-vis the other
branches of the armed forces for a larger share of the military budget. Still
another incentive for expanding the navy was the perceived danger posed by
the entry of the U.S.S. Enterprise into the Bay of Bengal in 1971. This in-
cident, according to one Indian source, taught India two lessons: that the
naval resources of a powerful outside state could be used to intimidate India
and that such intimidation could be rendered largely ineffective if littoral
states are determined to resist.109 Since the early 1970s, the Indian navy has
embarked on a steady program of expansion. In 1969, the navy ranked third

among the services in total capital construction, but by 1974 the situation
had reversed itself and the navy ranked first, retaining that position in capital
expenditures ever since.110 The Indian military services have undergone a
modernization of equipment, requiring extensive foreign purchases, in the
past several years. In December 1982, an agreement was signed with the
Soviet Union that, according to some sources, might represent its largest sin-
gle naval acquisition since World War II. Reportedly,111 this purchase in-
volved at least 16 ships, including three Kresta Il-class "cruisers,"112 three
additional Kashin-class guided-missile destroyers, three or more guided-mis-
sile corvettes, four to six Natya-class ocean escort minesweepers, and three
to five Foxtrot-class submarines. India has also made substantial non-Soviet
purchases as well. In late 1981, for example, New Delhi signed an agreement
with Howaldtswerke of West Germany for the construction of two Type-1500
submarines and the supply of "packages" for the building of two more sub-
marines at Mazagon Shipyard in Bombay.113
These acquisitions suggest a mission somewhat greater than neutralizing
the Pakistan navy in a possible future conflict. Of special interest is the
possession of tankers and other elements of the capability to sustain a naval
task force in distant waters of the Indian Ocean. However, the navy's precise
blue-water role is apparently still the subject of internal debate, according to
some analysts.114 Nonetheless, the new acquisitions will give India the capa-
bility to extend its defensive perimeter against a possible challenge on the
part of a major naval power. India's submarines could theoretically begin a
forward defense posture well beyond the Andaman and Nicobar Islands to
the east and to the west deep into the Arabian Sea. The Port Blair naval base
in the Andamans is being upgraded, and new naval facilities are being built
in the Laccadive islands and on Grand Nicobar island, just 80 nautical miles
from Sumatra. An aircraft carrier group or even some destroyers and frigates
working in tandem with the submarines would provide a capability superior
to that of any littoral state and a serious concern to the naval forces of a
major power. Closer-in defense would rely on additional frigates, corvettes,
and fast patrol boats, all armed with Styx surface-to-surface missiles.
At present, the navy's functions seem to be to monitor the movements
of big-power navies, to protect its Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ), and to
make it prohibitively costly for any power to challenge India's sea lanes or
even India itself (what is referred to in Singapore as the "poison-shrimp"
approach). Protection of the EEZ is increasingly the responsibility of India's
growing coast guard, thus enhancing the navy's ability to engage in blue-water
operations. Protection of the EEZ is a high-priority item for India, consider-
ing the vast area in its EEZ (about 800,000 square miles) and the oil, gas,
and mineral wealth in this area, as well as India's large investment in ex-
ploiting such resources.
Sea control is possible against India's neighbors, assuming no other major
naval power comes to their assistance (an unlikely scenario for at least an-
other decade), if one assumes that the most likely candidate for that role
is the PRC. Effective Chinese naval intervention on Pakistan's behalf is at

least a decade or more away. India's goal in 1971, driving the enemy (Paki-
stan) from the sea, might change if India and Pakistan acquired (and were
willing to use) nuclear weapons. In such a war, a slow-moving struggle for
command of the sea is likely to be rendered pointless before it got under
way. There has been considerable speculation that a limited conventional
war might be fought at sea by nuclear powers, but the interests at stake in
such a conflict would be so vital that it is hard to conceive of a situation in
which the nuclear threshold would not be crossed.
Presently, any Indian effort at sea control beyond its immediate area is
possible only with the acquiescence of major powers and other sub-regional
navies. The latter, increasingly being outfitted with missile patrol boats, could
deny to India such sea control in nearby waters if they decided to do so.
The Indian navy's ability to project power ashore at any distance is now
quite limited. India has no independent naval infantry and has in its inventory
six relatively small ex-Soviet Polnochny A and C-class LCTs, one ex-British
LST-3, and four Indian-constructed LCUs.115 Closer to home, amphibious
operations would prove more practical due to the availability of land-based
air support and shorter logistical lines.
Pakistan's naval forces, about one-third the personnel size of India's,
is charged primarily with defending the country's Arabian Sea coastline and
protecting the seaports of Karachi and Gwadar. Like almost all other Indian
Ocean navies, Pakistan has acquired a fleet of fast patrol boats, some with
a sea-to-sea missile capability. Memory of the successful 1971 Indian block-
ade of Karachi provided a strong incentive to invest in such warships, and
their possession by Pakistan makes any future blockade considerably more
costly. In addition, the defense of Pakistani ports is augmented by the acqui-
sition of some 12 Mirage-50 aircraft configured to launch the Exocet AM-39
air-to-surface missile.116
Pakistan's two Agosta-class submarines provide it with the only true open-
ocean patrol capacity for anti-submarine and anti-surface warfare operations,
but their limited number reduces their usefulness in any protracted conflict.
The six Gearing-class destroyers purchased from the United States since 1977
also enable Pakistan to extend the perimeter of defense. However, a major
weakness of these destroyers has been their lack of surface-to-surface missile
capability, presumably resolved with the purchase of Harpoon SSMs from
the United States.
The navies of Southeast Asia, with the exception of the Philippines, have
experienced considerable development over the past decade. ASEAN navies
have focused on acquiring missile craft and light frigates, both of which are
potent weapons in the congested waterways of Southeast Asia. In addition,
Malaysia, Indonesia, and Singapore have improved coastal defenses with the
purchase of A-4 and F-5 aircraft, and several Southeast Asian states have
either decided to purchase F-16s or are considering such a purchase.
There are several reasons for this naval expansion. The states of the
region fear that traditional alliances no longer represent the commitment they
once did. Still another reason seems to be the lingering ASEAN/Vietnamese

tension. Moreover, there is a growing worry among ASEAN states regarding
the increased activity of Soviet warships in contiguous waters. This is one
sub-region where the states want the U.S. navy to stay close at hand. U.S.
deployments to the Indian Ocean have aroused concern that the United States
would permanently degrade its presence in Southeast Asia. Finally, these
states share the nearly universal desire among littoral states to protect their
extensive EEZ. They are all concerned that political instability in the Philip-
pines might work against the forthcoming consideration of U.S. bases in that
country. Subic Bay is the major support facility of the Seventh Fleet, and
the Clark Air Force facility is the home of the Thirteenth Air Force. These
facilities are important symbols to the region of a continuing U.S. presence.
Indonesia has been the only Southeast Asian state with ambitions to pro-
ject power far beyond its immediate area. President Sukarno spoke repeatedly
of adopting a "revolutionary posture" against the outside world and against
the "encirclement" by "old established forces" of imperialism, and he was
determined to get the means to back up his assertiveness.117 Besides threaten-
ing Indonesia's immediate neighbors, Sukarno also made implicit and explicit
threats against India, threats that caused New Delhi to consider more closely
its own maritime defenses. Indonesia offered naval vessels to Pakistan and
made some vague threats regarding the Andaman Islands.
The Soviet Union, then assiduously cultivating Sukarno, provided him
the means to expand the Indonesian navy. It provided Indonesia with a $450
million loan in 1961 for military equipment at a very low rate of interest.
In February 1960, during Khrushchev's visit to Indonesia, Sukarno requested
Soviet help to develop the offensive capability of his armed forces.118 One
heavy cruiser, six destroyers, 12 diesel-powered submarines, seven frigates,
eight coastal escorts, 12 Komar-class missile boats, and various smaller boats
were purchased on favorable credit terms from the Soviet Union and were
promptly delivered, together with TU-16 medium bombers armed with air-
to-surface missiles, as well as MiG-21 interceptors for the Indonesian air
force. The sale of this military equipment involved items that had not been
granted to any other country, and hundreds of Indonesians were trained in
Soviet military academies. Such assistance enabled Indonesia to assemble the
largest navy among Indian Ocean littoral states—and one that caused con-
siderable concern at the time in India, Australia and, elsewhere.
Following the overthrow of Sukarno, the Indonesian navy was allowed
to stagnate (if not deteriorate) because of the severe budgetary constraints
forced on the succeeding government by runaway inflation. Continued sup-
plies from the Kremlin after the 1965 coup would have been unlikely in any
case given the strongly anti-communist sentiments (both domestically and
internationally) of the new regime.
The naval missions of Indonesia are now limited to patrolling the EEZ
more effectively and to the defense of the home islands. These defensive
efforts are almost entirely directed toward the north and east—and not west
toward the Indian Ocean, though Indonesians are concerned about Indian
development of military facilities on the Andaman Islands. Considering the

geographic spread of the country, these are both staggering and costly tasks.
The two missions overlap somewhat in the defense of the sea area around
the Natuna Islands, which face the Vietnamese coast and are subject to
conflicting claims between the two powers. To enhance its ability to patrol
this area, Indonesia has begun conducting naval exercises in the area. To
protect the approaches to the home islands, Jakarta reportedly has decided
to build three forward air defense bases: one on Sumatra to defend the west-
ern approaches, another on Sulawesi to defend the center, and a third in
Irian Jaya for the east.119
Australia is the other Indian Ocean power besides India capable of power
projection. For obvious reasons, a major focus of its security concern is
Southeast Asia. Australia's major trade routes pass through this area, and
trade with the ASEAN states is growing rapidly. Moreover, a hostile power
could stage attacks on Australia from the area. A fundamental strategic
objective of Australia (and New Zealand) is to prevent any hostile power
from acquiring naval and air bases in Southeast Asia, and Soviet bases in
Vietnam are perceived to pose a potential threat. The deployment of the
Minsk carrier group and an Ivan Rogov amphibious ship to the Soviet Pacific
fleet add to Australia's concern.
The Soviet presence in Vietnam provides a convincing political rationale
for maintaining Australian participation in the FPDA, the primary instrument
for Australia and New Zealand to pursue forward defense strategies.120 In a
series of meetings in Singapore in late 1980 and early 1981, the six FPDA
countries announced their intention to upgrade significantly joint military
cooperation and joint naval exercises. In June 1981, the first of the projected
naval exercises—"Operation Starfish 81"—took place off the coast of Ma-
laysia and in July 1981, "Operation Platypus 81" off the coast of Brisbane.
The Soviet invasion of Afghanistan added to Australian security appre-
hensions. There is evidence that the previous Australian government reacted
to the Vietnamese and Soviet action by seriously rethinking the country's
defense strategy. Mr. Ian Sinclair, the former Minister of Defence, in an ad-
dress to the Australian Defence Association on November 19, 1982, stated
that "Forward defence and the maintenance of close defence associations,
through [the] Defence Cooperation Program and alliance arrangements [are
seen] as strategically essential."121 This was the first official pronouncement
of a "forward defence posture" since the Vietnam war. Besides the naval
exercises noted above, the Fraser government deployed maritime forces to
the Indian Ocean, involved Australia in biannual ANZUS air and naval ma-
neuvers in the Indian Ocean, permitted U.S. use of Australian facilities for
B-52 aircraft, constructed patrol bases at Darwin and Cairns, expanded the
army reserve from 22,000 to 30,000, and decided to construct a forward
airfield at Derby and to replace Australia's tactical fighter force.
At the same time, there is a significant body of opinion in both Australia
and New Zealand that wants to keep ANZUS in a limited geographic area.
The 1983 victory of the Australian Labor Party (followed the next year by
the victory of New Zealand's Labor Party) strengthened this view at the
official level. Labor Party politicians have tended to focus on an independent
capacity in an effort to preserve the country's options. Mr. Bill Hayden, now
the Foreign Minister, wrote before the 1983 Labor victory that "short of
nuclear war, there is a reasonable possibility that in any future conflict, Aus-
tralia will have to rely on its own resources to defend itself. The first respon-
sibility of Government is to defend Australia against any encroachment on
its territorial sovereignty and it is not good enough to live in hope that some-
one [read the United States] will do it for us."122 This statement underscores
the understanding that each ANZUS member state will respond to a threat
against other members only after observing constitutional processes. The
circumstances of the threat would condition the response. A direct Soviet
threat would probably elicit a full military commitment, but a threat to a
member state from other countries might well include a range of responses
such as diplomatic action, political and economic sanctions, and military
logistical support.
Nonetheless, the Labor government has in fact followed, with only minor
variations, the same general policy on security matters as the preceding Fraser
government. For example, the much-heralded review of the ANZUS Treaty
in Washington, D.C., in July 1983 (the first comprehensive review since the
formation of ANZUS), did not result in any weakening of the Treaty pro-
visions. But, then, ANZUS has proved to be quite flexible, allowing for joint
action as the need arises and also permitting each ANZUS member to act
independently or in some other security relationship.
The continued commitment to ANZUS on the part of Australia and New
Zealand will be conditioned by their sense of threat. On this score, New
Zealand, with few apparent threats, has felt confident enough to challenge
the present functioning of ANZUS by denying entry to U.S. (and other) war-
ships that refuse to disclose whether they carry nuclear weapons. The U.S.
refusal to compromise on the non-disclosure policy has resulted in problems
between the United States and New Zealand. In early 1985, the Labor govern-
ment of Prime Minister David Lange, elected in July 1984, denied entry to
the U.S. destroyer Buchanan because Washington would not deviate from its
standard policy of neither denying nor confirming the presence of such weap-
ons. The United States responded to New Zealand's action by canceling its
participation in ANZUS and joint U.S.-New Zealand naval maneuvers and
by curtailing the sharing of intelligence information. Secretary of State George
Shultz told a U.S. Senate committee on February 21, 1985, that New Zealand
"had taken a walk" on ANZUS.123 The loss of defense cooperation, including
opportunities to exercise with the U.S. Navy, is forcing the New Zealand Navy
into a more self-reliant posture, including the acquisition of a replenishment
tanker.
The Labor Party in Australia also has a sizeable minority that favors
similar restrictions on ships carrying nuclear weapons, but the majority group
has refused to take any move that might undermine ANZUS. Nor has Can-
berra restricted the continued U.S. use of vital defense communications fa-
cilities.124 Australia, closer to Southeast Asia and with a larger regional per-
spective of its interests than New Zealand, has been rather cautious in taking
any steps that would undermine the viability of ANZUS. Indeed, a traditional
Australian foreign policy plank has been to assure itself of the support of a
major outside power.
Regarding the Indian Ocean, the Australian Labor government has sig-
naled its intention to play a more assertive role in the Indian Ocean, reflecting
both a concern for security of the Christmas and Cocos islands as well as
enhancing Australian influence among littoral states.125 This effort appears
to be part of Labor's effort to limit the geographic boundaries of ANZUS to
the Southwest Pacific and the Western Australian coastline. Foreign Minister
Hayden spelled out a "new" Indian Ocean policy in a June 1984 speech to
the Australian Institute of International Affairs in Perth. He pointed out that
Australia intended to adopt a higher profile among littoral states, particularly
India and the Indian Ocean island republics. He noted that Canberra would
expand its cultural activities as well as provide greater assistance to littoral
states. As part of its Indian Ocean policy, Australia has established a perma-
nent diplomatic mission in Mauritius, and has instituted a regular program
of naval visits to littoral states. Hayden also defended the Australian-U.S.
communications base on grounds that (1) Australia protected its interests
by a new agreement with the United States involving "timely judgments about
the significance for our interests of the use of the [sic] facility" and (2)
Australia had concluded that U.S. SLBMs (which can receive communica-
tions from such defense facilities) are a second-strike system and thus not
destabilizing.126 Only two days before Hayden's speech, Canberra announced
its decision to initiate regular deployments of Australian warships to the
Indian Ocean.
Despite Australian statements of intentions, its Labor government has not
appropriated funds to give Australia the means to project significant power
into the Indian Ocean. This is underscored by the decision to delay consider-
ation of the purchase of an aircraft carrier to replace the Melbourne.
A Superpower "Rivalry"?
The United States in 1979 established continuous supremacy in the Indian

Ocean because of its fears regarding access to Persian Gulf oil, and American
naval supremacy is not likely to be seriously challenged by the Soviet Union
over the next decade or even beyond. On the other hand, there is no way the
West can challenge the Soviet position on land as the most powerful Indian
Ocean hinterland state. The Soviet occupation of Afghanistan, coming in the
wake of the overthrow of the Shah, elevated Southwest Asia to one of the
three major security concerns of the West. Despite the withdrawal, it will
take considerable confidence-building efforts to alter this perspective. Within
the United States itself, there is heated debate over how much is enough
to serve as a deterrent to Soviet assertiveness, but there is little debate over
the critical importance of Southwest Asia. The Soviet Union, for its part, will
undoubtedly continue to maintain a significant naval presence in the Indian
Ocean to probe for opportunities to enhance its political influence. Regional
animosities and domestic turmoil will continue to offer possibilities on this
score.
A second trend that has emerged is the growing perception among littoral
states of the need for greater regional cooperation, both for faster economic
growth and, in some cases, for enhanced military security. The United States
actively backs this trend as a stabilizing factor, while the Soviet Union has
taken a much more ambiguous view, because such regional efforts, in some
cases, are a reaction to the assertiveness of the Kremlin's regional allies and
in part because the Soviet Union has made its major political inroads in coun-
tries that need military support against domestic or regional rivals.
Despite the large-scale Soviet military sales to India, India clearly does
not fit the model of a "needy" receiver of Soviet assistance. It is too large,
too powerful vis-a-vis its neighbors, and too politically integrated, in my
view, to fit. Only in the worst-case scenario of a China-Pakistan-U.S. axis
directed against India would New Delhi be strongly tempted to move sig-
nificantly closer to Moscow, but I think such a scenario is highly unlikely.
I cannot imagine a realistic scenario in which any of these three powers would
see advantages in earning the enmity of a country as powerful as India.
A third trend has been the expansion of the navies of the littoral states.
This will continue as littoral states seek to protect their EEZs, to protect
themselves against other regional states perceived as hostile, and to ward
off unwanted great-power interference.
Regarding the superpower presence in the Indian Ocean, I think much
conventional discussion is off the mark.
"Superpower rivalry" is a concept often employed by analysts in Indian
Ocean littoral states, including India,127 to explain the naval deployments
of the United States and the Soviet Union. The concept assumes that U.S.
and Soviet motives are governed largely—if not almost exclusively—by an
interaction between the two. However, there are some problems with this
approach.
The Soviet naval buildup in the Indian Ocean, occurring during the height
of detente, appears to have been motivated far more by its desire to enhance
its political influence, to counter China, and to establish political parity with
the United States in the area, rather than by strategic considerations involving
the Americans. Even Soviet surges, which are generally accepted as a response
to U.S. activities in the Indian Ocean, seem to have been motivated largely
by political considerations. For example, the Soviet dispatch of additional
warships to the Indian Ocean at the time of the deployment of the U.S.S.
Enterprise in 1971 seems to have been intended to enhance its political in-
fluence in India (and elsewhere) rather than to challenge the United States,
despite brave words that the Soviet navy would not allow American naval
intervention on Pakistan's behalf. The Soviet ships were several days behind
those of the United States and no real military challenge to the U.S. task
force. The Soviet action on this occasion was a spectacular political success
in that the Kremlin gained enormous goodwill in India, even leading some
analysts in India to speculate at the time that the Soviet naval presence in
the Indian Ocean was a beneficial balancer of the United States.
The Soviet Union had many other opportunities to enhance its political
influence even earlier (e.g., exploiting Western ties to South Africa and Is-
rael), but a shortage of warships probably explains why Moscow waited so
long to establish a permanent naval presence in the Indian Ocean. The pres-
ent, modest Soviet ASW capabilities further support the conclusion that po-
litical considerations, rather than a strategic anti-SSBN motive, governs its
decision to retain a permanent naval presence in the Indian Ocean.128
Interpreting the term "rivalry" narrowly, the superpowers have never
really been rivals on the sea in the Indian Ocean. The Soviet Union was most
active politically and militarily during the 1970s, when the United States
signaled a lack of interest, which may have created the impression in the
Kremlin and elsewhere that Moscow could act with relative impunity in the
Third World. Since 1979, the United States has reversed itself and established,
at sea in any case, overwhelming superiority vis-a-vis the Soviet Union. The
Soviets have not tried to match this, though they have not left the field
entirely to the Americans. The Kremlin has reacted by demonstrating greater
caution.
The United States, for its part, began to focus on the area around the
Persian Gulf in 1973, and for reasons of a stable energy supply that were
only marginally related to the Soviet Union. Even the failure of the 1977-78
Indian Ocean Naval Arms Limitation Talks had more to do with a deteriora-
tion of superpower relations on a global level than with incompatibilities
within the Indian Ocean. The Soviet occupation of Afghanistan in late 1979
did cause the United States and other Western powers to regard the Soviet
Union as the most powerful hinterland state, with the capacity to use its land-
based air and ground forces within its borders to challenge Western interests.
However, the responding buildup of a U.S. naval presence in the northwest
quadrant of the Indian Ocean had very little to do with the Soviet naval pres-
ence in the Indian Ocean. The United States wanted a sufficient naval capa-
bility to deter a Soviet thrust across the border, especially into Iran. The
Soviet navy in the Indian Ocean is not the challenge, at least not now.
It is also unlikely that either side was motivated to fill a "vacuum" pre-
sumably brought about by the British decision to withdraw from "east of
Suez." The slow-moving Soviet bureaucracy had surely already spent con-
siderable time planning its dispatch in the mid- and late-1960s, and this
process undoubtedly took place before the actual British decision to with-
draw. The United States did not consider any move at the time to replace
the British, nor did the Americans make a responding move to the initial
Soviet deployments to the Indian Ocean in the late 1960s. The Nixon Doc-
trine in effect assumed that the United States had no interest in the Indian
Ocean worth a military deployment. As noted above, the initial planning
regarding Diego Garcia had almost nothing to do with the Soviet Union, but
was linked to Chinese threats against India. In any case, it was not until the
late 1970s that the United States began to think seriously of Diego Garcia
as anything more than a communications facility.
Still a third reason given to explain the naval buildup of the superpowers
(and a notion with considerable support in India129) is that the Soviet Union
and the United States dispatched their navies (and other forces) to intervene
in the affairs of littoral states. Regarding the United States, the possibility of
intervention in the Persian Gulf was discussed by some prominent officials
in the wake of the 1973-74 oil crisis, including references to intervention by
the secretaries of Defense and State at the time. These references understand-
ably aroused apprehensions about what the United States would do. They
are still referred to in the literature. But this option was never considered
seriously in Washington. At that time, any such move would have been po-
litically impossible, given the popular response to the Vietnam experience.
In addition, any such effort would probably have been accompanied by an
effort to damage the oil fields and pipeline system, which would defeat the
purpose of intervention, to say nothing of the damage to larger diplomatic
objectives.
Intervention "by invitation" (which usually involves exploiting opportuni-
ties rather than manipulating events), however, is the more probable scenario.
Included in this are arms assistance, the supply of proxy troops, and threats
to hostile neighbors of friendly littoral states. Both the United States and
the Soviet Union have engaged in politico-military diplomacy to reinforce
relations with friendly states as a way of building closer political relations and
gaining access to military facilities. Such opportunities are likely to continue
presenting themselves to both superpowers as long as sub-regional states are
unable to resolve the disputes among themselves. Kuwaiti requests for pro-
tection of its tankers in the Persian Gulf is a recent example. Besides seeking
to keep open the sea lanes, the American agreement to do so was surely
motivated by a desire to minimize Soviet influence (after an initial rejection
by the United States, Kuwait had turned to the Soviet Union) and to rebuild
confidence eroded by the Iran-Contra affair.
Naval coercive diplomacy may have declining utility to major naval
powers. Many observers point out the diminishing efficacy of the navy as
an instrument of pressure against smaller states.130 In the case of the Indian
Ocean, an increasing number of states are equipped with advanced military
technology, including missile-armed fast patrol boats, sophisticated land-
based aircraft, and submarines to challenge threats to the seas off their coasts.
The costs of any such venture are becoming increasingly high as such acqui-
sitions grow. Western intervention by force presently seems conceivable only
in the Persian Gulf, and even there only in a worst-case situation of a suc-
cessful and sustained oil boycott and/or a blockade of a key choke point that
resulted in a severe blow to the economies of the industrial West. The chances
of such a sustained blockade now seem rather remote since the oil-producing
states, even the most radical and anti-Western, need to sell their oil to finance
their own development plans. (Iran must sell its only major product—oil—
to finance its war with Iraq.) In addition, the industrial states have extended
the time frame within which they could sustain a blockade, in the unlikely
event one occurred, by reducing their dependence on Persian Gulf oil through
more effective conservation methods and by stockpiling oil reserves. Even
though the number of attacks on Persian Gulf shipping increased in 1987,
it had no effect on oil prices.
Still another factor inhibiting coercive diplomacy is the progressive en-
closure of the oceans.131 Given prevailing doctrines concerning the limits of
territorial rights of archipelagoes and exclusive economic zones, perhaps one-
third of what under the old three-mile limit was regarded as high seas may
cease to be so in the future. Whatever resistance is expressed in some quarters
to this enclosure, a new sense of maritime frontiers is developing that will
make coercive naval diplomacy more difficult to carry out.
Indian apprehension regarding intervention, broadly considered, seems
to be a fear that U.S. arms assistance to Pakistan will result in that country
becoming a participant in a U.S. strategic consensus, which could undermine
Indian security in a number of ways. According to one prominent Indian
analyst,132 Pakistani involvement in the recurrent Middle East crises (1)
could "bring active cold war confrontation to the subcontinent" or (2) a
Pakistani leader's misreading of "the international balance of power could
lead him to misinterpret the degree of support he could count on from extra-
regional powers, and venture against India."
While there is little doubt that arms assistance is intended to reduce
Soviet influence in the littoral states, including Pakistan, it has not been
intended to threaten India, or weaken it, or reduce its influence regionally
or internationally. Moreover, U.S. official opinion clearly does not perceive
the U.S.-supplied arms to Pakistan as a threat to the existing balance of power
on the sub-continent. On the matter of U.S. bases, it is highly unlikely that
Pakistan under present circumstances would even consider a U.S. base/
facility, even were the offer to be made. Such a move would almost certainly
drive India closer to the Soviet Union, something that would undermine both
U.S. and Pakistani interests as well as make the Kremlin more intransigent
about leaving Afghanistan. In any case, tensions in Indo-Pakistani relations
appear to have relatively little to do with the superpower ties to either, and
much more to do with issues arising out of the bilateral relationship. More-
over, I cannot envisage India lining up with the Soviet Union in an attack
against Pakistan (or vice versa), just as I think it implausible that the United
States (or China) would assist a Pakistani venture against India.
It is conceivable that Pakistan's Middle East friends might provide it
military assistance in the form of arms and money during periods of tension
with India. However, this would not have much effect on the sea, since they
have little to offer (or could do little) that would enable Pakistan to deny
India sea control. These countries possess essentially coastal navies.
The chances of an anti-Soviet China-U.S.-Pakistan axis, which might have
implications for the Indian Ocean, are remote in any time frame that I think
prudent to talk about (5-10 years). It is remote, I believe, not because inter-
national events could not lead to enhanced Pakistani cooperation with China,
but primarily because of the probable slow rate of the Chinese blue-water
naval expansion over the next decade. Whatever warships China adds to its
blue-water fleet are likely to be deployed in the East and South China seas
to countr the growing Soviet naval deployments there. A larger Chinese blue-
water fleet might, however, enable the United States to deploy additional
ships to the Indian Ocean, were that considered necessary (as would a buildup
of a blue-water Japanese navy).
The expanded deployment of the superpower navies in the early 1970s
appears to have been a major Indian incentive to expand the capabilities of
its navy, as was the expansion of the Iranian navy during the same period.
The Indian navy, while no match for the superpowers, could make it costly
for either (or for any regional state) to challenge Indian maritime objectives
(e.g., trade routes, protection of its EEZ). The 1971 Enterprise incident, fre-
quently mentioned in the Indian literature, clearly made an impact on Indian
thinking about the potential for coercive diplomacy against it, and probably
was a compelling reason for its decision to create a navy that could engage
in sea denial activities at considerable distances from the Indian mainland.
Any establishment of foreign bases in South Asia or nearby island republics
would undoubtedly be perceived in India as a security threat and thus a good
reason for expanding its navy still further. In addition, India would oppose
such a move on grounds that its neighbors might become more intransigent
in the conduct of their diplomacy with India. This sensitivity was reflected
in a side letter to the July 29 Indo-Sri Lankan accord stipulating that Sri
Lanka not permit its port facilities to be used in a way "prejudicial" to Indian
interests.
An expansion of the Indian navy, in my view, is not a threat to the United
States. Indeed, the Director of U.S. Naval Intelligence, in testimony before
a congressional committee in 1983, specifically excluded India as a threat
to U.S. naval forces.133 Rather, a case could be made that a more capable
Indian navy would enhance Indian confidence about its ability to meet
challenges and thus reduce the likelihood of a perceived necessity to develop
closer security ties with the Soviet Union. Such an expansion, however, could
well undermine India's Indian Ocean Zone of Peace (IOZP) objectives (re-
ducing external military presences while preserving its own options), because
some littoral states already suspicious of Indian intentions would be even less
agreeable to withdrawal of non-littoral naval forces. Likely reactions from
other states might include seeking to keep one or the other superpower in
the Indian Ocean, advocating arms reductions among the littoral states them-
selves, and increasing naval expenditures. In addition, the IOZP concept itself
might well receive less public backing from many littoral states. Up to now,
it has had almost universal backing as a long-range goal among littoral states
since its introduction at the 1970 meeting of non-aligned states in Lusaka.
Even without an expansion of the Indian navy, the IOZP proposal must
overcome some major hurdles. There are already differences among littoral
states concerning what should be addressed in the IOZP question (e.g., Does
it only limit foreign forces or does it also involve the navies of littoral states?
Does it forbid nuclear weapons, and if so, only those of non-littoral states, or
does it include littoral states as well?). New Delhi surely would not be
enthusiastic over an IOZP regime that involved restricting the military and
nuclear capabilities of the littoral states. Another (and related) problem
regarding littoral support of the IOZP notion is that most littoral states do
not perceive the Indian Ocean as a whole, and there is no one nation whose
leadership on this (or other) subjects would be accepted. Far more important
to most littoral states are events in their immediate vicinity. Indeed, many of
them desire a close-by superpower presence as a guarantee against a hostile
neighbor(s) or the perceived threat of a superpower.
Regarding superpower approaches to the IOZP issue, the Soviet Union
will come out looking better than the United States in public relations terms
since Moscow would lose relatively little by reducing its naval presence in
the Indian Ocean. The Soviet Union's geographic proximity would enable it
to continue exerting pressure on Southwest Asia even if its navy were totally
withdrawn from the Indian Ocean. Because of this asymmetry of forces be-
tween the United States and the Soviet Union, Washington would be very
reluctant to withdraw its naval forces from the Indian Ocean. It is not likely
to do so until there is a major change in U.S.-Soviet bilateral relations and
until the threat to oil resources subsides. The U.S. reluctance to support an
IOZP resolution will undoubtedly cause continuing differences with India,
though I doubt that such differences will be on the front burner. U.S. naval
forces are focused on the Persian Gulf and the approaches to it—not on
South Asia. Pakistan is peripheral on that score. Facilities at the mouth of
or in the Persian Gulf itself are far more desirable from a military standpoint
than Karachi or Gwadar. Regarding R and R, ports in Pakistan (or other
South Asian states) do not offer the kinds of entertainment U.S. sailors would
desire. Finally, the chances of the United States deploying SLBMs to the
Indian Ocean are receding as SLBM range increases and ASW technology
improves.
The United States and India share an interest in keeping open sea lanes
of communication and ensuring unimpeded access to Gulf oil. A case could
be made positing at least tacit Indian approval of U.S. efforts to safeguard
these mutual interests through naval (though not ground) activity. Should
there occur frequent random sinking of tankers, causing insurance rates to
go up, perhaps prohibitively for many countries, or should some countries
(or labor unions) react to uncertainty by prohibiting trade, shortages would
develop and prices would go up.134 The United States possesses one of the
few navies in the area with the technological capability of responding to such
developments, and it is not totally implausible that India would see its in-
terests served by U.S. mine-clearing operations and by the protection of
tankers, some of which might be Indian, from attack. It is instructive that
India has not protested the naval protection offered Kuwaiti oil tankers in
the Persian Gulf.
Notes
1. The left wing of the Labor Party was concerned about the costs, while the
right within the Conservative Party favored a more Europe-oriented defense estab-
lishment.
2. Noted in K. R. Singh, The Indian Ocean: Big Power Presence and Local
Response (Columbia, Mo.: South Asia Books, 1978), p. 54.
3. The three external powers promised to contribute one battalion each to an
integrated force to be known as ANZUK. The external powers also contributed to
plans for the air and naval defense of the two regional states. In the mid-1970s,
however, Australia, New Zealand, and Great Britain decided to reduce their forces
in Singapore and Malaysia, retaining a minimum necessary to demonstrate a com-
mitment to honor the agreement. After the escalation of tensions in Southeast Asia
in the wake of the Vietnamese invasion of Kampuchea, the FPDA states have at-
tempted to breathe new life into the agreement.
4. A comprehensive description of U.S. submarine Trident developments in
James John Tritten, "The Trident System: Submarines, Missiles and Strategic Doc-
trine," Naval War College Review, January-February 1983, pp. 61-74.
5. The Kremlin leadership, however, did not demonstrate interest in the other
arms control measures brought to Moscow by Secretary of State Cyrus Vance.
Moscow probably accepted NALT because it was the only proposal offering an
unambiguous advantage to the Soviets and one that critics of NALT were quick to
point out.
6. FBIS USSR, April 16, 1984, p. aai. From Moscow TASS 0938 GMT, April
14, 1984.
7. U.S. Senate, Subcommittee on Military Construction of the Committee on
Armed Forces; 93rd Congress, 2nd Session; July 10, 11, 12, 18, 1974; p. 106.
8. William F. Hickman, "Soviet Naval Policy in the Indian Ocean," Naval In-
stitute Proceedings, August 1979, p. 42.
9. Cited in Dieter Braun, Indian Ocean: Region of Conflict or 'Zone of Peace'?,
trans, from the German by Carol Geldart and Kathleen Llanware (London: Hurst
and Company, 1983), p. 48.
10. Elmo R. Zumwalt, Jr., analyzes the expansion of the Soviet navy under
Gorshkov's leadership in "Gorshkov and His Navy," Orbis, Fall 1980, pp. 491-
500. Figures for the increasing number of ship days from James M. McConnell
and Bradford Dismukes, "Soviet Diplomacy of Force in the Third World," Prob-
lems of Communism, January-February 1979, p. 17.
11. Geoffrey Jukes, "The Indian Ocean in Soviet Naval Policy," Adelphi Paper
No. 87 (London: International Institute for Strategic Studies, 1972), p. 22.
12. Information in the following paragraphs is drawn largely from Stephen S.
Kaplan, Diplomacy of Power: Soviet Armed Forces as a Political Instrument
(Washington, D.C.: The Brookings Institution, 1981), pp. 176 ff.
13. With the termination of the British security relationships in the Gulf, the
United States on December 23, 1971, concluded an executive agreement with the
government of Bahrain for the continued use of the port facilities there. This was
renewed in a somewhat modified form in 1977.
14. Probably the best study to date of the growing U.S. involvement in the In-
dian Ocean is Gary Sick, "The Evolution of US Strategy and the Indian Ocean,"
in Alvin Z. Rubenstein, ed., The Great Game: Rivalry in the Persian Gulf and
South Asia (New York: Praeger Publishers, 1983), pp. 49-80.
15. The war ended, however, before the United States had to make a final de-
cision on using the air power on the U.S.S. Enterprise on India's behalf.
16. Sick, op. cit., p. 55.
17. The doctrine had its only practical application in the Persian Gulf region,
where the United States relied on Iran and Saudi Arabia to maintain stability.
18. Testimony of Ronald I. Spiers before the House of Representatives, Sub-
committee on National Security Policy and Scientific Development of the Commit-
tee on Foreign Affairs; 92nd Congress, 2nd Session; July 20, 22, 27, 28, 1971; p. 165.
19. Ibid., 171-173.
20. Spiers, op. cit., pp. 183-184.
21. Part of submission of statement by Senator Claiborne Pell, inserted into
U.S. Senate Hearings before the Subcommittee on Military Construction of the
Committee of Armed Services; 93rd Congress, 2nd Session; July 10, 11, 12, 18,
1974; p. 491.
22. U.S. Senate, Subcommittee on Construction of the Committee of the Armed
Services; 93rd Congress, 2nd Session; July 10, 11, 12, 18, 1974; p. 138.
23. Data contained in Message from National Military Command Center, sub-
mitted into the record of U.S. Senate, Subcommittee on Construction of the Com-
mittee of the Armed Services; 93rd Congress, 2nd Session; July 10, 11, 12, 18,
1974; p. 511.
24. Sick, op. cit., p. 65.
25. Information from U.S. Senate, Committee on the Armed Services; Military
Procurements Supplemental Fiscal Year 1974; 93rd Congress, 2nd Session; March
12, 1974; pp. 42-61.
26. J. P. Anand, "Diego Garcia Base," IDSA Journal, July-September 1979,
pp. 58-85. The article provides a good summary of the Indian reaction to the base.
27. Ibid., p. 71.
28. Ibid., p. 72.
29. Submission of Professor Guy Pauker to House of Representatives, Sub-
committee on National Security Policy and Scientific Developments of the Com-
mittee on Foreign Affairs; 92nd Congress, 1st Session; July 20, 22, 27, 28, 1971;
p. 225.
30. Admiral Gene R. LaRocque, whose arguments set out here were included
in the April 14, 1974, issue of his periodical, The Defense Monitor.
31. His doctrines are incorporated in three books published between 1963 and
1966, reprinted in An Introduction to Strategy; Deterrence and Strategy; Strategy
of Action (London: Faber and Faber, 1967).
32. A leading navy spokesman of the "indirect strategy" is Admiral Joire-
Noulens. See his "Reflexions sur les missions de la marine," Armees d'Aujourd'hui
(July 1975), and "Quelle marine et pourquoi fair des le temps de paix," Defense
Nationale, July 1976.
33. Keith Shreves, "French Frigate 'Babry' at Sea," Asian Defense Journal,
March 1984, pp. 66-67. For a discussion of the French buildup in the wake of the
Iran-Iraq tanker war, see Ronald O'Rourke, "Persian Gulf: U.S. Military Opera-
tions" Library of Congress, Congressional Research Service, December 23, 1987,
pp. 8-11.
34. James F. Kelly, "Naval Deployments in the Indian Ocean," Naval Institute
Proceedings, May 1983, pp. 174, 176-189.
35. After 1980, Chinese analysts wrote about the "equidistance" of China be-
tween the United States and the Soviet Union. However, the continuing conver-
gence of Chinese and U.S. views regarding the Soviet threat in East Asia surely
motivated Premier Zhao Ziyang to declare during his 1984 visit to the United
States that China's "independent" foreign policy did not imply "equidistance" be-
tween the two superpowers. FBIS China, January 11, 1984, p. Bll.
36. See "The Military Balance 1983-84," Air Force Magazine, December
1983, p. I l l ; and M. Weisskopf, "China Fires a Missile from a Sub," International
Herald Tribune, October 18, 1982, p. 1.
37. "The Military Balance 1983-84," op. cit.
38. G. Jacobs, "Chinese Naval Force Requirements: The Next Decade," Asian
Defense Journal, September 1982, pp. 40-46.
39. A systematic study of the various scenarios under which the Chinese might
consider deployment to the Indian Ocean in Yaacob Vertzberger, "China in South
Asia: Convergence of Interests with the United States?," an unpublished paper
presented to the Regional Seminar in Chinese Studies, Berkeley, California, April
6-7, 1984, pp. 28-36.
40. The material in the following two paragraphs drawn from Jane's Fighting
Ships 1983-84 (Boston: Van Nostrand Reinhold Co., Inc., 1983), p. 95; Paul
Wettern, "The PLA Navy," in Defense: China 1982, Supplement of Defense, nos.
1-2 (1982), pp. 37-59; Bruce Swanson, Eighth Voyage of the Dragon: A History
of China's Quest for Sea Power (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1982), pp. 277-
278; Far Eastern Economic Review, June 11, 1982, pp. 21-25.
41. Testimony of Rear Admiral John L. Butts, U.S. Navy, Director of Naval
Intelligence to Committee on Armed Services, U.S. Senate; 98th Congress, 1st Ses-
sion, pt. 6, "Sea Power and Force Projection"; March 14, 22, 23, 24, April 6, 7,
1983; p. 2933.
42. James W. Houck, "The Chinese Navy's Prospects for Growth," Naval In-
stitute Proceedings, March 1981, p. 75.
43. Material in this paragraph taken from Defense of Japan 1983 (Tokyo:
Defense Agency, 1983), pp. 321-332; Soviet Military Power 1984 (Washington,
D.C.: G.P.O., 1984), p. 50.
44. According to one study looking at the effects of a complete disruption of
oil supplies from the Persian Gulf on seven industrialized states, such a disruption
in 1980 would have caused crude oil prices to increase from a base of $30/barrel
to as high as $300/barrel. Production of all goods and services would have de-
clined between 12 and 27 percent. Western Vulnerability to Disruption of Persian
Gulf Oil Supplies: US Interests and Options, Congressional Research Service Re-
port 83-24F (March 24, 1984).
45. For a discussion of the Carter Doctrine and its subsequent elaboration, see
William R. Brown, "Middle East Policy and Gulf Defense," Middle East Insight,
January/February 1983, pp. 39-44. The Carter Doctrine is not a totally new U.S.
expression of concern regarding the security of the Persian Gulf region. It was
foreshadowed by the March 9, 1957, Congressional Joint Resolution to Promote
Peace and Stability in the Middle East (PL 85-7, Jt. Res. 117)—sometimes re-
ferred to as the "Eisenhower Doctrine"—affirming the independence and integrity
of those nations judged "vital" to the national interest of the United States and au-
thorizing the use of troops to cope with a communist aggression against them. Bi-
lateral agreements incorporating this pledge were worked out with Iran, Pakistan,
and Turkey in 1959. However, the Eisenhower Doctrine goes into effect only after
a presidential judgment, including presumably a consideration of the War Powers

Act of 1973. The precise wording of section 2 of the Joint resolution, the opera-
tive clause, is that "if the President determines the necessity thereof, the United
States is prepared to use armed forces to assist any such nation or group of such
nations requesting assistance against armed aggression from any country controlled
by international communism: provided that such employment shall be consonant
with the treaty obligations of the United States and with the Constitution of the
United States."
46. For discussion, see Brown op. cit., p. 39.
47. Secretary of Defense Harold Brown's Defense Annual Report to the Con-
gress for FY 1982 was inserted into the record of U.S. Senate Committee on the
Armed Services; 97th Congress, 1st Session; January 28, 1981; pp. 83-422.
48. Ibid., p. 104.
49. Ibid., pp. 172-173.
50. Ibid., p. 172.
51. A review of the initial steps taken to create a rapid deployment force in
Lewis C. Sowell, Jr., Base Development of the Rapid Deployment Force: A Win-
dow to the Future (Washington, D.C.: National Defense University, 1982), p. 15.
52. Public Broadcasting System, MacNeil-Lehrer Report, July 5, 1979.
53. Defense Annual Report, op. cit., p. 173.
54. Sick, op. cit., p. 74.
55. For example, see U.S. Senate, Committee on the Armed Services; 98th
Congress, 1st Session, pt. 6, "Sea Power and Force Projection"; March 14, 22, 23,
24, April 6, 7, 1983; pp. 3101-3148, which contains a comprehensive discussion
of the goals of USCENTCOM.
56. Ibid., p. 3105.
57. U.S. Senate, Committee on the Armed Services; 98th Congress, 1st Ses-
sion; pt. 6, "Sea Power and Force Projection"; March 14, 22, 23, 28 and April 6,
7, 1983; p. 3140. General Kingston noted to the committee what types of forces a
full USCENTCOM deployment would include:
U.S. Central Command Headquarters (augmented)

U.S. Army Forces Central Command:
Headquarters, U.S. Army Central Command
1 Airborne Division
1 Air Mobile/Air Assault Division
1 Mechanized Infantry Division
1 Cavalry Brigade Air Combat
Rangers and Unconventional Warfare Units
U.S. Navy Forces Central Command:
Headquarters, U.S. Navy Central Command
3 Carrier Battle Groups
1 Surface Action Group
5 Maritime Patrol Air Squadrons
U.S. Marine Corps Forces: 11/3 Marine Amphibious Forces
U.S. Air Force Central Command:
Headquarters, U.S. Air Force Central Command
7 Tactical Fighter Wings
2 Strategic Bomber Squadrons
58. Sherwood S. Cordier, U.S. Military Power and Rapid Deployment Require-
ments in the 1980s (Boulder: Westview Press, 1983), p. 159.
59. For example, see formulation by then Deputy Secretary of Defense Frank
Carlucci in U.S. Senate, Committee on Appropriations; 97th Congress, 2nd Ses-
sion; pt. 3; May 6, 12, 13, 19, 20, and June 10, 24, 1984; p. 280.
60. U.S. Senate, Committee on Armed Services; 97th Congress, 2nd Session;
March 5, 8, 12, 15, 16, 18, 19, 22, 23, 1982; p. 3733.
61. Carlucci, op. cit, p. 280.
62. For example, see James P. Wootteri, Rapid Deployment Force (Washing-
ton, D.C.: Congressional Reference Service, 3/4/80, revised 2/1/84).
63. Ibid., p. 4.
64. Cordier, op. cit., pp. 60-61.
65. Wootten, op. cit., pp. 11-12.
66. Report of the Secretary of Defense Caspar W. Weinberger to the Congress
on the FY 1985 Budget, FY 1986 Authorization Request and FY 1985-89 Defense
Programs (Washington, D.C.: G.P.O., 1984), p. 177.
67. Information on such access and prepositioning agreements, ibid., pp. 214-
215.
68. For report on this, see Wootten, op. cit., p. 4.
69. For discussion of the reflagging decision, see "War in the Persian Gulf:
The U.S. Takes Sides," U.S. Senate, Staff Report to the Committee on Foreign
Relations, October 1987.
70. Four US AWACS based at Riyadli maintain patrol of the northern half
of the Gulf.
71. O'Rourke, op. cit., p. 10.
72. Material taken from xeroxed copy of his testimony before the U.S. Senate
Foreign Relations Committee, June 16, 1987.
73. New York Times, April 7, 1987.
74. New York Times, May 3, 1987.
75. Washington Post, May 30, 1987.
76. Washington Post, June 27, 1987.
77. Wootten, op. cit. p. 9.
78. Ibid.
79. For a discusion of the expanded NATO deployments to the Indian Ocean,
see O'Rourke, op. cit.
80. This case is perhaps best presented in Robert J. Hanks, "The Unnoticed
Challenge: Soviet Maritime Strategy and the Global Choke Points" (Washington,
D.C.: Institute for Foreign Policy Analysis, 1980).
81. Ibid., p. 48.
82. Ibid.
83. John R. Thomas, Political Strategic Framework for Soviet Oceanic Policy
(Washington, D.C.: G.P.O., 1976), p. 29.
84. Albert E. Graham, "Soviet Strategy and Policy in the Indian Ocean" in
Paul J. Murphy, ed., Naval Power in Soviet Policy, vol. 2 (Washington, D.C.:
G.P.O., 1978), p. 281.
85. For a comprehensive argument regarding the largely political orientation
of the Soviet navy in the Indian Ocean, see Bruce W. Watson, Red Navy at Sea:
Soviet Naval Operations on the High Seas 1956-1980 (Boulder: Westview Press,
1980), ch. 10.
86. Defense Monitor, op. cit., p. 5.

87. Air Force Magazine, Sept. 10, 1985, p. 78.
88. Far Eastern Economic Review, December 29, 1983, pp. 14-15.
89. G. Jacobs, "The Soviet Navy—Supporting Overseas Deployments," Asian
Defense Journal, February 1982, p. 44.
90. Following data in this paragraph taken largely from Watson, op. cit., pp.
153-154.
91. Most of the information in this paragraph from presentation of Rear Ad-
miral John L. Butts, Director of Naval Intelligence, inserted in U.S. Senate Com-
mittee on the Armed Services; 98th Congress, 1st Session; pt. 6, "Sea Power and
Force Projection"; March 14, 22, 23, 24, and April 6, 7, 1982; p. 2975.
92. William L. Dowdy, "Middle Eastern, North African, and South Asian
Navies," Naval Institute Proceedings, March 1983, p. 48.
93. An analysis of the U.S. advantage vis-a-vis the Soviet Union in Watson,
op. cit., pp. 150-151.
94. This data drawn from Soviet Military Power, 2nd ed. (Washington, D.C.:
G.P.O., 1983), pp. 50-51.
95. This point is persuasively argued by Keith A. Dunn, "Towards a U.S. Mili-
tary Strategy for Southwest Asia," in Alvin Z. Rubenstein, op. cit., pp. 209-234.
96. For a discussion of Soviet activity in the Persian Gulf, see Robert J.
Ciarrocchi, "U.S., Soviet, and Western European Naval Forces in the Persian Gulf
Region," (Library of Congress, Congressional Research Service, December 8,
1987), pp. 10-13.
97. Figures from O'Rourke, op. cit., p. 11.
98. Quoted in Joel Larus, "India: The Neglected Service Faces the Future,"
Naval Institute Proceedings, March 1981, p. 81.
99. Norman C. Dodd, "African Navies South of the Sahara," Naval Institute
Proceedings (March 1984), p. 57.
100. John Moore, ed., Jane's Fighting Ships 1983-84 (Boston: Van Nostrand
Reinhold Company, 1983), p. 411.
101. Dodd, op. cit, p. 57.
102. Ibid., p. 59.
103. Michael Vlahos, "Middle Eastern, North African and South Asian
Navies," Naval Institute Proceedings, March 1984, p. 51.
104. Dowdy, op. cit., pp. 46-47.
105. Michael Vlahos, "Middle Eastern, North African and South Asian
Navies," Naval Institute Proceedings, March 1987, pp. 52-56.
106. Vlahos (1984), op. cit., p. 53.
107. Jane's Fighting Ships, 1983-84, p. 222.
108. Vlahos, (1987), op. cit., p. 53.
109. Singh, op. cit., p. 39.
110. See analysis of expansion of Indian navy in Gary L. Sojka, "The Missions
of the Indian Navy," Naval War College Review, January-February 1983, pp.
2-15...
111. Vlahos (1984), op. cit., pp. 53-54.
112. Jane's Fighting Ships 1983-84 reports possible purchase of two cruisers.
113. Ibid., p. 222.
114. For example, see Joel Larus, op. cit., pp. 77-83.
115. Jane's Fighting Ships 1983-84, pp. 227-228.
116. Keith Jacobs, "Pakistan's Navy," Naval Institute Proceedings, March

1984, p. 150.
117. A summary of Sukarno's foreign policy assertiveness in Herbert Feith,
"Indonesia," in George McTurnan Kahin, ed., Government and Politics of South-
east Asia, 2nd ed. (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1964), pp. 265-270.
118. The data from The Military Balance: 1964-65 (London: The Interna-
tional Institute for Strategic Studies, 1964), p. 62.
119. P. Lewis Young, "Naval Developments in Southeast Asian Region: Cur-
rent Trends," Asian Defense Journal, February 1982, p. 21.
120. An analysis of Australia's security concerns regarding Southeast Asia in
Michael O'Conner, "Security Cooperation in the Western Pacific: An Australian
View," Asian Defense Journal, May 1983, pp. 87-88.
121. Quoted in Ray Sunderland, "Australia's Changing Threat Perceptions,"
Working Paper No. 78 (Australian National University: Canberra, 1984), p. 9.
122. Quoted in "Australian Defense Issues in the Eighties: Part I," Asian
Defense Journal, February 1983, p. 30.
123. U.S. News and World Report, March 4, 1985, p. 31.
124. Asian Defense Journal, November, 1984, pp. 21-2.
125. See Johannesburg Star, August 15, 1983, pp. 3-4 for an analysis of Aus-
tralia's Indian Ocean policy.
126. See Ministry of Foreign Affairs News Release, No. 91, June 20, 1984.
127. For an Indian argument against the notion of superpower rivalry in the
Indian Ocean, see P. K. S. Namboodiri, "The Indian Ocean: Need for a New
Approach," Strategic Analysis, April 1979, pp. 42-45.
128. For example, see Mohammed Ayoob, "Superpowers and the Third World:
Prospect for the Eighties," IDSA Journal, January-March 1981, pp. 339-349.
129. See Hedley Bull, "Sea Power and Political Influence," Adelphi Paper No.
122 (London: International Institute for Strategic Studies, 1976), pp. 7-8.
130. Elizabeth Young, "Military Implications of the Law of the Sea," Survival,
November-December 1974, p. 276.
131. K. Subrahmanyam, "India's Security in the Eighties," Strategic Analysis,
September 1983, pp. 420-421.
132. Butts, op. cit, p. 2978.
133. The late spring 1984 escalation of fighting in the Iran-Iraq war over the
Persian Gulf led some oil industry experts to announce that oil prices could rise
to $50-80/barrel from the then current level of $29/barrel if the situation con-
tinued to escalate. As it was, insurance rates on oil tankers sailing to the Persian
Gulf tripled in May 1984. Los Angeles Times, May 24, 1984.
TABLE 1.1. Naval Deployment in the Indian Ocean
United States Soviet Union

1981/1982* 1-2 carrier task forces (some "Detachments from the Pacific Fleet
12 surface combatants), serve in the Indian Ocean"
7 chartered store ships Facilities are located in Aden (Soco-
(Persian Gulf: 1 command ship, tra) in South Yemen and Dahlak
4 surface combatants) Island in Ethiopia
1982/1983t 1 carrier task force (some 6 3 submarines, 7 surface combatants,
surface combatants), 13 char- 18 support ships
tered stores ships Facilities also in South Yemen
(Persian Gulf: 1 command ship, (Aden, Socotra) and Ethiopia
4 surface combatants) (Dahlak Island)
1983/1984** 1 carrier battle group (from 2-3 submarines (on the average),
the 7th Fleet); (some 6 sur- 8 surface combatants, 2 amphibi-
face combatants), 9 stores ous, 12 support ships
ships Facilities in Aden and Socotra in
(Middle East Force in Persian South Yemen and Dahlak Island
Gulf: 1 command ship, 2 de- in Ethiopia
stroyers)
1984/1985tt Same as 1983/1984 data Same as 1983/1984 data
1985/1986*** Detachments from the 7th fleet, Detachments from Pacific Fleet
11,000; 1 carrier battle group (Average 2-3 subs, 8 surface com-
(some 6 surface combatants) batants, 2 amphibious support
Near Term Prepositioning Force ships normally deployed in the
(Diego Garcia) (1,300): 3 Indian Ocean; facilities also in
ammunition, 7 cargo ships, 3 Vietnam [Cam Ranh Bay] South
barges, 3 oilers, 1 water Yemen, [Aden, Socotra] and Ethi-
tanker. opia [Dahlak Island])
Middle East Force (Persian
Gulf/Bahrain) 1 command
ship, 4 destroyers/frigates
1987ttt 6 frigates, 1 destroyer, 1 cruiser, Inside the Gulf: 1 destroyer/sub-
1 marine amphibious assault marine which rotates with 2 frig-
carrier, 1 command ship (La- ates in the immediate area of the
Salle), 1 landing ship dock, Gulf of Oman/Arab Sea; 3 mine-
6 ocean going mine sweepers sweepers, 1 intelligence-gathering
8 fast patrol boats, 6 river ship
patrol boats, 4 special war- Outside the Gulf: 1 aircraft carrier,
fare craft, 2 barges 3 cruiser battleships, 2 auxiliary
support craft
Sources:
* International Institute of Strategic Studies, "The Military Balance, 1981/82," in Air Force Magazine,
December 1981, pp. 58, 60.
t International Institute of Strategic Studies, "The Military Balance, 1982/83," in Air Force Magazine,
December 1982, pp. 66, 70.
** International Institute of Strategic Studies, "The Military Balance, 1983/84," in Air Force Magazine,
December 1983, pp. 74, 78.
tt International Institute of Strategic Studies, "The Military Balance, 1984/85," in Air Force Magazine,
December 1985, pp. 71, 72.
*** International Institute of Strategic Studies, "The Military Balance, 1985/86," in Air Force Maga-
zine, February 1987, pp. 65, 69.
ttt Information from Clyde Mark, Congressional Research Service, Library of Congress, Foreign Policy
Division; unverifiable.
TABLE 1.2. Military Expenditures, Estimated GNP/GDP, Percentages of Military Expenditures to Central Gov-
ernment Expenditures and GNP/GDP, Where Available (Current U.S. Dollars)
Military ME ME
Area Popula- Armed Expendi- Estimated GNP/GDP CGE
Country/Years (sq mi) tion (000) Forces tures (ME) GNP/GDP % %
Afghanistan 253,861 (GNP)
1982 15,360 43,000
1983 15,500 47,000
1984 209.000 mn 37.5 6.9
1985 47,000 3.3 bn
1986 50,000
1987 15,531 50,000
Australia 2,967,741 (GDP)
1981/1982 14,760 4.472 bn 163.062 bn 3.1 10.2
1982/1983 15,438 72,473 4.492 ba
1984 4.954 bn 184.000 bn 3.0
1985 70,400 5.100 bn
1986 70,500
1987 16,428 70,500
Bahrain 231 (GDP)
1982 400 84.1 mn
1983 400 2700 253.191 mn
1984 319.0 mn 4.2 bn 6.3 23.5
1985 2800 111.0 3.0
1986 2800
1987 420 2800
Bangladesh 55,126 (GDP)
1981/1982 158 mn 11.910 bn
1982/1983 92,900 77,000 160.898 mn 10.633 bn 10.9
1984 262 mn 1.8 22.0
TABLE 1.2. (continued)
Military ME ME
Area Papula- Armed Expendi- Estimated GNP/GDP CGE
Country /Years (sq mi) tion (000) Forces tures (ME) GNP/GDP % %
1985 91,300 15 bn
1986 91,300
1987 104,235 101,500
Brunei 2,226 (GDP)
1982 233 3650 195 mn
1984 4100 305 mn 8.1 24.5
1985 4100
1986 4100
1987 238 4100
Burma 261,789 (GNP)
1981/1982 174.428 mn 5.601 bn 33.5
1982/1983 35,260 179,000 175.159 mn
1984 245.0 3.9 25.6
1985 186,000 226.0 6.5 bn 3.3
1986 186,000
1987 38,457 186,800
China (PRC) 3,691,501 (GNP)
(includes 4,100,000 12.5 bn
1983 Tibet) (1981)
1984 6.455 318 bn 1.6 11.9
1985 3,900,000 11.027 2.9
1986 2,950,000
1987 1,078,765 3,200,000
Djibouti 8,996 (GNP)
1982 315 2400 2.9 mn 357 am
1983 2700 (1981)
1984 27.0 mn 307 mn 8.1 22.4
1985 3000
1986 4500
1987 417 4200
Egypt 386,872 (GNP)
1981/1982 2.100bn 12.0
1982/1983 43,000 452,000 2.495 bn 7.4 12.0
1983/1984 46,000 447,000 3.043 bn 29.614 bn
1984 3.786 33 bn 9.6 19.6
1985 445,000 2.153 8.9
1986 445,000
1987 49,500 445,000
Ethiopia 471,776 (GNP)
1981/1982 29,695 250,500 377.778 mn 4.466 bn
1983 31,500
1984 548.0 4.7 bn 11.4 28.4
1985 217,000 310.0 9.3
1986 227,000
1987 42,600 320,000
India 1,266,596
1981/1982 683,900 1,104,000 5.12 bn 162.416 bn 17.8
(1980)
1982/1983 723,000 1,120,000
1984 6.907 3.9 19.3
1985 1,260,000 6.320 3.2
1986 1,260,000
1987 779,983 1,262,000
Indonesia 779,675 (GDP)
1981/1982 2.039 bn 84.309 bn 12.3
1982 154,360 273,000 2.926 bn
1983 160,000 281,000 (1982/83)
Military ME ME
Country/Years (sq mi) tion (000) Forces tures (ME) GNP/GDP % %
1984 2.420 78.8 bn 3.0 12.4
1985 278,100 2.610 2.7
1986 281,000
1987 168,815 284,000
Iran 635,363 (GDP)
1982/1983 39,665 6.9-13.3 bn
(1982) (total war
41,500 costs to
(1983) end of
1982 re-
ported as
some $100
billion)
1984 20.162 162 bn 12.3 42.9
1985 305,000 8.842 10.0
1986 704,500
1987 45,200 654,000
Iraq 172,000 (GNP)
1982 13,835 252,000 7.772 bn
1983 14,300 517,250
1984 13.831 51.1
1985 520,000 57.1
1986 845,000
1987 15,400 1,000,000
Israel (GNP)
1982 4000 174,000 8.242 bn 21.770 bn 37.9 40.7
1983 4100 172,000 6.461 bn
1984 5.798 21 bn 24.4 39.5
1985 142,000 3.200 13.9
1986 149,000
1987 4400 141,000
Japan 142,871 (GNP)
1982 117,400 243,000 10.36 bn 1,057.616 1.0 5.5
1983 119,400 241,000
1984 12.018 1.0 5.8
1985 243,000 12.094 1.3 tr 1.0
1986 243,000
1987 122,090 246,000
Jordan 37,297 (GNP)
1982 3320 67,500 440.091 mn 3.878 bn 11.3 21.5
1983 2469 72,800 465.394 mn
1984 533.0 4.2 bn 13.4 28.0
1985 70,300 546.0 13.1
1986 70,200
1987 2720 80,300
Kenya 224,960 (GDP)
1981/1982 17,090 16,700 155.186 bn 5.950 bn
285.377 bn
1983 18,000 16,000
1984 243.0 5.7 mn 4.1 15.9
1985 13,700 303.0 4.4
1986 13,700
1987 20,711 13,400
Korea (South) 38,022 (GNP)
1982 38,800 601,600 5.173 bn 68.419 bn 7.6 35.0
1983 39,400 622,000
1984 4.494 bn 5.4 27.2
Military ME ME
Country I Years (sq mi) tion (000) Forces tures (ME) GNP/GDP % %
1985 598,000 4.621 bn 5.2
1986 601,000 90.6 bn
1987 42,126 629,000
Kuwait 7,780 (GDP)
1981/1982 1450 12,400 1.561 bn 20.215 bn 8.4
1984 1.638 22 bn 7.6 14.0
1985 1.608 9.1
1986 12.000
1987 1710 15,500
Madagascar 228,000 (GDP)
1982 8,775 19,550 78.511 mn
1983 9,350 21,100
1984 55.0 2.6 bn 2.3 10.9
1985 21,000
1986 21,000
1987 10,367 21,000
Malaysia 128,727 (GNP)
1982 14,350 99,100 2.077 bn 25.936 bn 8.0 15.2
1983 99,700
1984 1.997 29.8 bn 5.9 16.8
1985 110,000 1.604 5.6
1986 110,000
1987 16,176 113,000
Mozambique 303,073 (GNP)
1982 10,610 26,700 200.918 mn
12,650 12,650
1984 231.0 8.4 43.3
1985 15,800 206.0
1986 15,800
1987 13,126
Nepal 54,362 (GNP)
1982 14,309 25,000 30.353 mn 2.459 bn
1983 15,000 25,000 (1982/83)
1984 30.0 2.6 bn 1.3 5.2
1985 25,000
1986 30,000
1987 19,495 31,700
New Zealand 103,736 (GDP)
1982 3152 12,913 493.475 mn 24.043 bn 6.2
(1982/83) (1981/82)
1983 3230 12,943
1984 400.0 1.8 4.4
1985 12,400 504.0 2.1
1986 12,600
1987 3317 12,600 23.2 bn
Oman (GNP)
1982 930 18,000 1.714bn 42.5
1983 970 23,550 1.772 bn
1984 2.131 8.8 bn 24.2 49.0
1985 2,500 2.076 20.1
1986 21,500
1987 1300 21,500
Pakistan 310,463 (GDP)
1981/1982 88,950 450,600 1.857 bn 31.0 bn 36.7
1983 89,500 478,600
1984 1.957 35 bn 7.1 39.8
Military ME ME
Country/Years (sq mi) tion (000) Forces tures (ME) GNP/GDPp % %
1985 482,800 2.353 6.9
1986 480,600
1987 99,705 480,600
Philippines 115,800 (GDP)
1982 50,010 112,800 879.752 mn 39.638 bn 2.2 12.5
1983 50,800 104,800
1984 504.0 1.5 15.0
1985 114,800 463.0 32.6 bn 1.4
1986 113,000
1987 56,371 105,000
Qatar (GDP)
1982 230 6000
1983 260 6000 165.98 mn
1984 0.0 6 bn
1985 6000
1986 6000
1987 300 7000
Saudi Arabia (GDP)
1981/1982 10,395 52,200 27.7
1982/1983 27.022 bn
1983/1984 8-12,000 51,500 21.952bn
1984 22.674 20.9 36.9
1985 62,500 19.860 18.9
1986 67,500 98.1 bn
1987 11,600 73,500
Seychelles (GNP)
1982 67 8.0 mn
1983 1000
1984 8.0 5.6 7.4
1985 1200 140 mn
1986 1200
1987 69 1300
Singapore 225,600 (GNP)
1981/1982 718.0 mn 12.901 bn 15.8
1982/1983 2400 42,000 851.791 mn 15.125 bn 5.6 17.0
1983 2500 55,500
1984 1,046.0 5.8 15.2
1985 55,000 1,042.0 16 bn 6.8
1986 55,500
1987 2631 55,500
Somalia (GNP)
1982 5910 62,550 127.376 mn
1983 4-6000 62,550
1984 130.0 11.3 40.1
1985 62,700 132.0 1.8 bn 13.4
1986 42,700
1987 7010 65,000
South Africa 790,261 (GNP)
1981/1982 3.081 bn 75.739 bn 21.1
1982/1983 29,030 81,400 2.769 bn 71.668 3.9 18.7
1983 26,100 82,400
1984 2.634 4.1 16.8
1985 106,400 1.726 112 3.6
1986 106,400
1987 33,642 97,000
Sri Lanka 25,332 (GNP)
1982 14,900 14,840 40.736 mn 4.820 bn
Military ME ME
Country / Years (sq mi) lion (000) Forces tures (ME) GNP/GDP % %
1983 15,500 16,560
1984 102.0 5.3 bn 1.7 5.1
1985 21,600 213.0 3.8
1986 21,600
1987 16,173 22,000
Syria (GNP)
1982 9,150 222,500 2.548 bn 30.0
1983 9,200 222,200
1984 3.372 13.9 bn 15.1 29.9
1985 402,500 1.840 16.3
1986 392,500
1987 11,250 407,500
Taiwan 13,887 (GNP)
1981/1982 18,165 451,000 3.60 bn 46.0 bn
1982/1983 18,500 464,000 3.323 bn 39.4
1984 3.417 bn 56.6 bn 5.9 40.0
1985 444,000 3.715 6.6
1986 424,000
1987 20,352 424,000
Tanzania 364,943 (GNP)
1981/1982 19,120 40,400 315.662 mn
1983 20,500 40,350
1984 103.0 4.1 bn 2.5 10.2
1985 40,400 101.0
1986 40,400
1987 22,710 40,100
Thailand 198,500 (GNP)
1982 48,890 238,100 1.437 bn 37.320 bn 3.9 21.7
1983 49,750 235,300 1.562
1984 1.752 4.2 21.7
1985 235,300 1.583 42 bn 3.9
1986 256,000
1987 52,863 256,000
United Arab Emirates (GNP)
1982 950 42,500 2.195 bn
1983 1130 49,000
1984 2.343 28 bn 8.3 57.0
1985 43,000 2.023 8.0
1986 43,000
1987 1300 43,000
Yemen (North) (GNP)
1982 5365 32,100 526.904 mn 2.838 bn 18.6 28.3
1983 7200 21,550
1984 598.0 3.9 bn 17.8 30.1
1985 36,600 379.0 11.7
1986 36,600
1987 9300 36,600
Yeman (South) (GNP)
1982 1955 24,300 159.409 mn
1983 2000 25,500
1984 194.0 1 bn 16.3 21.0
1985 27,500
1986 27,500
1987 2300 27,500
Source: "Comparisons of Defense Expenditures and Military Power," The Military Balance, London: International Institute of Strategic Studies,
Autumn, 1983, Autumn 1984-85, 1985-86, 1986-87, 1987-88.
TABLE 1.3. U.S. International Military Education and Training Program Deliveries/Expenditures, Includes Military Assistance
Service Funded (Dollars in Thousands)
FY 1979 FY 1980 FY 1981 FY 1982 FY 1983 FY 1984 FY 1985 FY 1986 FY 1987 FY 1950-87
East Asia and
Pacific 5562 4640 4463 7161 8316 8877 9668 9618 10,557 871,445
Burma — 30 31 151 196 116 226 260 301 5,537
Indonesia 1848 1858 1724 2252 2438 2233 1705 1859 2070 43,541
Japan — — — — — — — — — 44,589
Korea (South) 1613 1086 1212 1544 1750 1765 1955 1814 3 168,877
Malaysia 516 267 305 492 650 860 969 894 1032 9,156
Philippines 794 559 394 1130 1364 1462 2205 2371 2550 46,453
Singapore — — 7 48 52 55 50 47 46 296
Taiwan — — — — — — 103,156
— — —
Thailand 791 832 761 1526 1783 2205 2326 2204 2329 88,763
Near East and
South Asia 6235 4615 4651 9579 10,060 9217 10,195 9761 10,950 224,297
Afghanistan 9 — — 5,616
— — — — — —
Bangladesh 230 121 131 167 215 263 336 269 296 2,272
Egypt 394 848 730 2337 1899 1458 1402 1672 1816 12,570
India 455 270 4 82 146 129 295 307 202 7,745
Iran — — 67,442
— — — — — — —
Iraq — — — — — — — 1,487
Jordan 1482 968 —
775 2147 —
1213 1701 1828 1752 1977 21,567
Lebanon 544 376 324 544 1733 490 668 460 493 7,454
Maldives — 23 23 31 36 128
— — — —
Nepal 51 26 62 87 76 108 122 87 105 1,143
Oman — 10 4 82 106 124 128 41 39 508
Pakistan 463 — 573 781 770 973 916 1124 29,679
—
Saudi Arabia — 12,456
— — — — — — — —
Sri Lanka — 21 67 105 105 144 148 158 160 1,154
Syria — — — — — — 56
Yemen 560 407 924 —
1155 1213 912 1292 —
1095 —
1420 9,991
Africa 2944 2591 3884 5124 7283 8509 10,241 9376 9,220 99,440
Djibouti 32 161 106 117 107 163 662
— — —
Ethiopia — — — — — — 22,701
— — —
Kenya 395 505 511 934 1372 1500 1685 1516 1051 11,163
Madagascar — — — 17 50 55 77 73 272
Somalia 366 —
454 603 1023 1096 1091 677 5,192
— —
Totals may not add due to rounding.

Source: Foreign Military Sales, Foreign Military Construction Sales, and Military Assistance Facts (as of September 30, 1987), United States Department of De-
fense, Security Assistance Agency, Washington, D.C. I, Defense Security Assistance Agency, ch.d.3 (extrapolations from chart), Table 1.3, pp. 76-81.
TABLE 1.4. Military Assistance Program, Includes Military Assistance Service Funded and Excludes Training (Dollars in Thou-
sands)
FY 1979 FY 1980 FY 1981 FY 1982 FY 1983 FY 1984 FY 1985 FY 1896 FY 1987 FY 1950-87
East Asia and
Pacific 30,275 160,377 125,657 131,172 1,295 747 — 10,000 — 29,007,223
Burma — — —* — — — 72,134
— — —
Indonesia 1900 1735 585 194 15 192,200
Japan — — — — — — — — — 810,276
Korea (South) 11,042 121,931 99,660 130,086 10 — — — — 5,471,719
Philippines 15,864 25,205 25,059 760 267 741 — 10,000 — 617,069
Taiwan 14 * 10 — — — — — — 2,554,637
Thailand 1455 11,504 344 132 1003 5 1,169,122
Near East and
South Asia 41,575 28,220 1212 91 30 75 — — — 2,167,214
Afghanistan — — — 2
— — — — — —
India 10 — 1 90,256
— — — — — —
Iran — — — — — — — 766,733
— —
Iraq — — — — 45,208
— — — — —
Jordan 41,562 28,210 1207 90 30 75 — — — 489,908
Lebanon 13,585
— — — — — — — — —
Nepal — _ — — — 1,678
—
— — — —
Pakistan 650,281
— — — — — — — —
Saudi Arabia 23,868
— — — — — — — — —
Sri Lanka — — 3,167
— — — — — — —
Africa 2669 27 17,224 110 — 10,000 25,000 278,817
— — — — — _
Djibouti — 1475 1,475
— — —
Ethiopia — — — — — — — — — 182,948
* Less than $500.

Numbers may not total due to rounding.
Source: Foreign Military Sales, Foreign Military Construction Sales, and Military Assistance Facts (as of September 30, 1987), United States Department of Defense,
Security Assistance Agency, Washington, D.C. 1, Defense Security Assistance Agency, ch.d.3 (extrapolations from chart), pp. 53—55.
TABLE 1.5. Foreign Military Sales Deliveries
FY 1980 FY 1981 FY 1982 FY 1983 FY 1984 FY 1985 FY 1986 FY 1987 FY 1950-87

East Asia and
Pacific 1,073,621 1,920,254 1,287,969 1,663,232 1,532,536 1,610,410 1,474,216 2,056,304 17,419,819
Australia 150,284 506,226 127,443 151,123 398,245 428,262 370,134 619,350 4,249,647
Brunei * * 132 14 72 37 1 48 350
Burma 57 259 743 1,172 1,193 329 43 31 7,525
Indonesia 88,329 63,583 14,611 29,587 15,679 17,953 12,759 24,333 319,725
Japan 84,875 320,431 326,242 435,420 333,325 389,699 151,312 306,242 2,741,803
Korea (South) 295,197 295,449 220,648 304,649 258,016 258,281 387,474 403,928 3,641,664
Malaysia 4,622 28,953 3,642 26,434 28,525 9,114 3,476 3,279 167,599
New Zealand 7,371 8,328 8,908 12,525 11,095 9,301 8,518 10,243 202,145
Philippines 14,326 16,397 21,845 71,433 13,777 16,027 37,343 33,787 287,705
Singapore 17,914 52,755 23,483 85,018 32,848 22,435 134,934 163,192 655,986
Taiwan 209,100 373,749 390,035 434,977 274,896 339,535 248,999 387,058 3,604,605
Thailand 201,523 254,041 149,040 170,262 164,776 118,946 118,470 100,659 1,524,374
Near East and
South Asia 2,392,689 3,182,231 4,529,606 6,129,837 3,432,556 3,213,110 3,472,416 6,569,352 55,250,651
Bahrain 1,515 862 2,010 699 1,957 8,522 53,606 170,693 239,986
Bangladesh — — 8 253 543 616 1,439
Egypt 202,929 203,307 — 1,004,720
989,307 — 314,992 570,148 607,313 1,135,122 5,258,195
India 6,230 511 582 955 548 114 21 127 78,573
Iran — 10,654,842
— — — — — — —
Iraq — — — 13,152
— — — — —
Israel 564,416 1,039,757 924,379 309,075 216,069 483,065 195,803 13,472,282 10,548,220
Jordan 173,212 113,425 123,080 278,927 76,973 122,325 62,766 64,838 1,552,017
Kuwait 77,902 65,317 85,147 72,758 48,738 33,990 71,900 83,059 977,771
Lebanon 15,990 12,783 37,199 189,141 208,480 48,045 12,626 13,818 559,522
Nepal 1 — — — — 73
Oman 7,798 16,850 —
31,473 — — 1,300 756
21,167 4,313 281 84,483
FY 1980 FY 1981 FY 1982 FY 1983 Fy 1984 FY 1985 FY 1986 FY 1987 Fy 1950-87

Pakistan 52,635 72,810 146,407 255,975 452,906 357,950 148,159 135,186 1,895,580
Qatar 21 83 278 148 97 144 141 208 1,114
Saudi Arabia 1,151,752 1,451,558 2,092,714 3,888,694 1,932,464 1,369,568 2,242,561 3,254,147 21,561,080
Sri Lanka — — 4
— — — — — —
Syria — 1
— — — — — — —
United Arab Emirates 296 1,936 2,742 3,180 12,339 5,068 10,672 241,702 280,533
Yemen 72,254 49,350 24,919 16,542 9,217 8,266 2,454 7,222 298,315
Africa 44,990 69,663 129,248 76,072 78,672 77,444 75,410 70,346 857,571
Ethiopia — — 86,561
— — — — — —
Kenya 3,901 28,464 23,543 20,060 6,025 8,162 11,006 5,544 143,398
Madagascar * * — 3 90 94
— — —
Somalia 3 14,334 21,292 20,103 19,814 11,413 13,904 99,449
South Africa —
— — — — — — — — 3,149
* less than $500.

Source: Foreign Military Sales, Foreign Military Construction Sales, and Military Assistance Facts (as of September 30, 1987), United States Department of
Defense, Security Assistance Agency, Washington, D.C. 1, Defense Securit y Assistance Agency, ch.d.3 (extrapolations from chart), pp. 13-19.
TABLE 1.6 U.S. Commercial Exports Licensed Under Arms Export Control Act (Dollars in Thousands)

East Asia and
Pacific 500,015 572,725 544,053 635,553 1,036,452 1,828,250 1,658,978 840,804 9,743,920
Australia 51,015 35,244 40,000 40,000 111,540 497,496 418,636 63,316 1,403,315
Brunei 63 569 1,000 1,500 2,104 2,124 1,819 1,731 12,729
Burma 229 203 1,000 1,000 69 1,051 1,350 637 17,706
China 622 1,000 2,000 22,732 46,303 54,020 14,576 141,264
Indonesia 6,221 — 10,000 33,285 15,108 7,964 165,839
6,673 10,000 27,197
Japan 264,892 344,862 300,000 400,000 546,874 708,118 606,635 342,103 4,369,653
Korea (S) 41,459 28,710 25,000 25,000 122,299 210,674 156,562 126,287 1,072,740
Malaysia 19,016 29,522 25,000 25,000 16,811 119,681 41,078 20,142 480,190
New Zealand 6,019 3,709 5,000 5,000 30,179 35,524 19,862 4,582 125,870
Philippines 7,954 967 1,000 1,000 4,018 11,566 2,224 4,862 83,055
Singapore 11,167 22,691 20,000 20,000 45,439 66,963 89,035 28,073 391,852
Taiwan 57,770 66,731 75,000 75,000 70,000 54,463 228,400 210,000 1,128,282
Thailand 13,796 13,526 10,000 10,000 23,453 23,360 11,106 11,784 183,418
Near East and
South Asia 403,251 413,432 296,800 315,000 1,068,073 1,233,874 633,586 339,373 7,562,810
Afghanistan 281 ** 597
— — — — — —
Bahrain 224 1,171 1,000 1,000 1,965 928 1,852 1,227 12,753
Bangladesh 552 474 1,000 1,000 323 1,114 257 259 5,284
Egypt 6,530 4,052 15,000 30,000 69,307 151,882 71,051 22,250 452,839
India 2,833 4,643 5,000 5,000 23,234 18,615 27,414 24,878 157,551
Iran 7,036 — — — — 670,767
— — —
Iraq 1 — 13 120 1,178 1,552
— — —
Israel 271,805 267,337 150,000 150,000 417,513 599,930 290,847 136,360 3,383,208
Jordan 53,638 41,653 50,000 50,000 17,340 19,460 23,247 13,409 264,211
Kuwait 232 1,307 5,000 5,000 60,794 4,617 13,455 1,437 102,793
Lebanon 768 1,050 1,500 1,500 1,209 2,079 914 113 20,279

Nepal 67 — — 4 3 6 1 143
—
Oman 186 661 1,500 3,000 5,313 5,623 3,960 5,150 33,927
Pakistan 4,670 11,108 5,000 5,000 35,153 21,935 54,145 15,404 209,406
Qatar 1,818 1,002 2,000 2,000 3,790 1,678 597 427 16,033
Saudi Arabia 28,985 71,540 50,000 50,000 359,600 307,996 91,992 108,563 1,686,142
Sri Lanka 33 — 378 1,324 412 1,717 3,931
— —
Syria 1 6 132 1,529
— — — — —
United Arab Emirates 5,085 3,937 2,000 5,000 9,346 28,501 26,501 5,141 91,377
Yemen 14 4 100 1,000 276 1,322 14 24 2,456
Africa 7,257 2,359 10,450 11,750 102,097 11,254 69,220 9,593 362,464
Djibouti — * 12
— — — — — —
Ethiopia 2,335 3,856
— — — — — — —
Kenya 197 165 300 800 219 100 407 6,863 16,226
Madagaskar * 574
— — — — — — —
Mauritius 10 12 7 168
— — — — —
Mozambique — 2 38 26 2 516
— — —
Reunion 4 5
— — — — * —*
Seychelles 2 42
— — — —
Somalia — — 1,811 59 3 177 6,290
— —
South Africa — 3,482 1,612 148 38,729
— — — —
Tanzania 598 23 50 100 3 112 9 54 3,317
* less than $500.

Source: Foreign Military Sales, Foreign Military Construction Sales, and Military Assistance Facts (as of September 30, 1987), United States Department of
Defense, Security Assistance Agency, Washington, D.C. 1, Defense Security Assistance Agency, ch.d.3 (extrapolations from chart), pp. 37—43.
TABLE 1.7. Attacks on Ships in the Persian Gulf
Number of
ships attacked 1981 1982 1983 1984 1985 1986 1987
By Iraq 5 22 16 53 33 66 62
By Iran 0 0 0 18 14 45 61
Source: Washington Post, October 3, 1987.

2
Emerging Security Issues in
Indian Perspective
M. P. AWATI
The emergence of an unrestrained superpower military competition in the

Indian Ocean/Persian Gulf region poses increasingly serious dangers both
for the superpowers themselves and for the littoral states. With its carrier
task force and a growing network of bases to serve the Rapid Deployment
Force (RDF), the United States deploys substantial capabilities to safeguard
its oil supplies and sea lanes against what it sees as potential threats from
the Soviet Union and local powers. The Soviet navy, for its part, perceiving
a threat from China as well as the United States, maintains a significant naval
presence of its own to preserve access to the region from the Mediterranean
and the Pacific for transit and for onshore facilities. Apart from the possibility
of a direct superpower clash in the region incidental to a global military
confrontation, the littoral states are concerned that Washington and Moscow
might be drawn into conflicts between regional powers by manipulative local
elites. More important, there is a widespread fear in the region that the super-
powers might seek to pursue their foreign policy objectives by engaging in
gunboat diplomacy, intervening in support of their clients in civil conflicts.
Such anxieties are present in many unstable Third World areas but are pe-
culiarly acute in the strife-torn Indian Ocean region.
This essay will present an Indian perspective on the regional military
environment, first analyzing the threat perceptions and force deployments of
extra-regional powers and then examining the postures of regional powers,
with special emphasis on India. It will then assess the conflicts and comple-
mentarities in the interests of the powers concerned as the prelude for a dis-
cussion of the desirability of resuming regional arms control efforts.
84
Emerging Security Issues: Indian Perspective 85
The United States

American Interests in the Indian Ocean
The Suez crisis in 1956 "more than anything else epitomized the changing
Afro-Asian ocean scene" that persuaded Washington to establish a naval pres-
ence in the Indian Ocean.1 The growing evidence of diminishing British
potency, accompanied by the end of French colonial rule over Madagascar
in 1958, prompted U.S. defense planners to foresee a possible power vacuum
in the region.2
The United States had long regarded a British presence in the East as
very important for the non-communist world. In fact, it offered to share part
of the cost for Britain's presence in the Indian Ocean as early as the Kennedy
Administration.3 Washington subsequently proposed the idea of joint staging
posts in the Indian Ocean in its strategy to build them up into a chain of
small islands.4
The British Indian Ocean Territory (BIOT) was created as a result of
these early perceptions. The idea was to ensure the availability of strategically
located "real estate" for future joint military uses. After the announcement
of BIOT in the British Parliament on November 10, 1965, British officials
visited Washington to discuss what was reported as "the nuts and bolts of
Anglo-American defense coordination east of Suez."5 The details of the
U.S. decision to participate in the east of Suez presence are still not known
precisely, as much of that discussion has been kept secret at the request of
Britain.6
When the British finally did decide to withdraw from the Indian Ocean
in January 1968, the limited Soviet naval entry into the region that followed
in March was seen in Washington as part of a calculated Soviet move to "fill
the vacuum" created by the withdrawal.7 In U.S. eyes, Soviet naval expan-
sion in the Indian Ocean dramatized the global reach of its navy and was
seen as an indication of a general effort of the Soviet Union to expand its
political influence. Soviet prominence in the Indian Ocean was also seen as
a possible temptation to the Soviet leaders to take additional risks in the
pursuit of targets of opportunity.8 A U.S. presence was therefore seen as a
deterrent against any disruption of vital sea lanes.
Interest in the Indian Ocean was also accelerated by the changed atmo-
sphere after Vietnam, marked by general overseas rollbacks, sharply reduced
foreign commitments, the declining usefulness of overseas bases, and the
Nixon Doctrine.9 Military analysts contended that through its seapower the
United States would be better equipped to deal with small "brushfires," which
were predicted in great numbers in and around the Indian Ocean. Although
aircraft carriers have become increasingly vulnerable to missilery, it was
argued, they would provide the U.S. navy with unrivaled flexibility for limited
faraway engagements.10
From the start of its plans for Indian Ocean deployment, the United States
perceived, though did not acknowledge, the strategic utility of the ocean. The
establishment of the North West Cape facility in Australia for submarine

communications coincided with the introduction of Polaris A-3 SLBMs. A
congressional study revealed that the United States possessed a "potential
strategic nuclear military objective" of deploying, when necessary or con-
venient, ballistic-missile submarines targeted on the Soviet Union.11
A U.S. naval presence in the Indian Ocean was thought to permit the
United States to exercise its nuclear deterrent with fewer nuclear submarines.
The range of Polaris and Poseidon missiles is relatively limited, and while
Trident signifies a marked improvement in that respect, their presence in the
Indian Ocean would greatly aggravate Soviet ASW problems. Simultaneously,
U.S. targeting flexibility would be enhanced vis-a-vis some targets in the
Soviet Union.12 The Indian Ocean was thus regarded as an attractive deploy-
ment site for U.S. SLBMs because the Soviet Union would find it most diffi-
cult to deploy adequate ASW forces there to contain the U.S. threat of attack
from the sea.13
American strategic bombers based in the Indian Ocean also appeared
advantageous because the targets on Soviet Central Asian territory were con-
sidered to be readily accessible from that region. American defense specialists
also believed that strategic bombers could support the general-purpose naval
forces in a conventional war.14
The other U.S. security interests in the Indian Ocean defined as military
objectives for U.S. conventional forces include the capability to: (1) protect
U.S. economic interests in the Persian Gulf region; (2) employ or threaten
force in support of U.S. diplomatic objectives in the Middle East; (3) secure
the Indian Ocean air and sea routes against harassment or interdiction; (4)
intervene in support of other objectives in the littoral; (5) related to all these,
balance Soviet forces in the region and attain superiority in a crisis; and,
finally, (6) provide ready protection to "friendly democratic" regimes on
the littoral and in the hinterland.15
The last objective arises from a perception that although U.S. military
strategy has deterred direct Soviet attack for many years, it has not prevented
indirect incursions within the less-developed world. So an important purpose
of U.S. armed forces is to counter Soviet expansionist activities, particularly
"those aimed at limiting U.S. and allied freedom of access throughout the
world."16 At the same time it is admitted that the principal threat to U.S.
interests in the Indian Ocean region arises out of political instability "fed by
Soviet intrigue," leading to "unexpected transitions" and thus complicating
relations between Western and local governments.17
The unsettled Iranian situation added another important dimension to
U.S. security perceptions in the region. The Pentagon believes that should
the Soviet Union decide on further military moves in Southwest Asia, one
scenario could include a full-scale invasion of Iran. In its view, the prospect
of actual combat with the United States and its allies may be the ultimate
deterrent to such a Soviet move18-—the "trip-wire" strategy.
American Capabilities
The origins of the American military presence in the Indian Ocean can be
traced to 1948, when a U.S. naval station was established in the former British
base of Bahrain. Beginning in the 1960s, major U.S. naval units had been
frequently entering the Indian Ocean. These visits were "markedly political"
in character.19 In 1962, at the time of Sino-Indian border war, a task force
of the 7th Fleet was "ordered to move" into the Bay of Bengal.20 In 1963,
an aircraft carrier, submarines, and other vessels took part in CENTO maneu-
vers in the Arabian Sea off Karachi, though the United States was not a
member of CENTO.21
In late 1963, it was revealed that a decision was taken to set up a special
command for the U.S. forces in the Indian Ocean. The Chairman of the Joint
Chiefs of Staff declared the intention in 1963 to station special U.S. naval
units in the Indian Ocean independent of local ports and composed of an
aircraft carrier, some escorts, and supply ships.22 By April 1964, the "Con-
cord Squadron" was sailing the Indian Ocean waters. A joint U.S.-Iranian
exercise was held in 1964 in which 2300 U.S. paratroopers were dropped on
the continental part of Iran and a marine force landed on an Iranian island
in the Persian Gulf. Hundreds of planes and 6800 U.S. officers and men took
part in the exercise.23
When Britain proposed to withdraw from east of Suez, the suggestion
came up for an Anglo-American "joint defense zone" that was to involve
Saudi Arabia, Iran, Iraq, Kuwait, Pakistan, and Turkey, but the littoral states
rejected the plan.24
For the first time, a carrier task force from the 7th Fleet entered the Bay
of Bengal in December 1971 at the time of the Indo-Pakistani war. In 1972,
the U.S. navy declared that the Indian Ocean was included in the "zone of
responsibility" of the Pacific Fleet. The American Secretary of Defense said
in 1973 that visits of U.S. naval forces to the Indian Ocean would be "more
frequent and more regular than in the past."25 The Arab-Israeli war in Octo-
ber 1973 and the oil crises dramatically altered the strategic situation in the
Indian Ocean. The U.S. navy received instructions to conduct regular de-
ployments with the intention to deprive the Soviet navy its countervailing
capability, which it had demonstrated in 1971 and 1973, of neutralizing a
reinforced U.S. naval presence.26
U.S. naval units took part in the biggest exercise until then, the CENTO
MIDLINK maneuvers. It was held in 1974, covered the entire Arabian Sea,
and involved some 50 ships and two nuclear submarines, among others.
The aircraft carrier U.S.S. Constellation made a significant visit to the
Persian Gulf. In January 1975, a task force of the Seventh Fleet headed by
the U.S.S. Enterprise appeared in the Indian Ocean for another exercise that
involved landing on a Persian Gulf island under the UAE.27
In 1977 alone, U.S. ships passed through the Indian Ocean three times,
with the Enterprise and Midway involved on two occasions. They took part
in the joint naval exercises of the United States, Great Britain, Iran, and Paki-
stan, including the MIDLINK-77, carried out in the northern part of the
Arabian Sea, the Gulf of Oman, and the Strait of Hormuz.28 Between 1971
and 1979, the Indian Ocean was visited by some 20 American carrier groups.29
Both during the Iranian revolution in early 1979 and the U.S. hostage inci-
dent later that year, the U.S. naval presence in the region increased, reaching
a peak of U.S. and allied presence of over 80 warships in the wake of the
outbreak of the Iraq-Iran war in September 1980.
In the fall of 1979, the U.S. administration undertook to establish a new
security framework in the Persian Gulf following the Iranian events and their
perceived impact on the region in the context of Western dependence on Gulf
oil. Soviet capabilities also became a factor in the new security outlook, which
prompted new initiatives such as a regional focus for the RDF and a signifi-
cant increase in naval presence in the Indian Ocean.30 These new commit-
ments were announced in the form of the Carter Doctrine in early 1980.
By January 1983, a new command structure, the U.S. Central Command
(USCENTCOM), the first-ever regional command in 30 years, came into
being. It evolved from the Rapid Deployment Joint Task Force, in existence
since 1979, and is charged with ensuring U.S. security interests "focused
exclusively" on Southwest Asia.31 It has assumed all of the functions of a
regional unified command, including a security assistance function. US-
CENTCOM is assigned an area of responsibility that previously had been
divided between U.S. European and Pacific commands. It has operational
command of army, air force, and naval components headquarters as well as
of those U.S. forces earmarked for the region that are located primarily in
the United States.32
According to U.S. defense assessments, the regional naval support facili-
ties and access to facilities ashore for prepositioning equipment and supplies
have been increased. Initiatives afloat include a 13-ship near-term preposition-
ing force. By 1987, prepositioned ships containing equipment and supplies
for three Marine Amphibious Brigades will replace part of the near-term
prepositioning force, providing U.S. forces with a "dramatic increase in both
sustainability and deployability." Prepositioning plans ashore include plans
for obtaining POL support from U.S. allies and friends. Agreements are
being sought with numerous countries for additional facilities that could
increase en route, overflight, and recovery access.33
A major part of the visible U.S. power projection efforts center around
the RDF/USCENTCOM strategy, vis-a-vis the Diego Garcia facility and
other secondary facilities.
Until 1977, the U.S. military posture seemed to imply that the purpose
of power projection in the Indian Ocean area would be served largely by
naval deployments. The successful military use by the Soviet Union of an
ally, East Germany, and friend, Cuba, in Angola and Ethiopia in 1976-77,
probably convinced the Pentagon of the need for a force dedicated for inter-
vention in Third World situations.
In fact, the United States has been in the rapid deployment and power
projection business for a long time (the marines are more than two centuries
old). It has been a part of U.S. military doctrine to be ready to fight in
contingencies in remote areas.34 In the 1960s, the United States created a
"Strike Command" that had at its disposal a 100,000-strong army corps and
tactical air force command units with a total strength of 50,000 men. Ac-
cording to then Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara, the command's task
was to be a combat-ready force capable of rapid deployment in reaction to
"crises situations at levels below a full-scale nuclear war."35 However, the
need for a truly awesome and effective force and the further need for pub-
licity of such a force seems to have emerged in the later 1970s.
Thus, shortly after taking office, President Carter ordered a far-ranging
review of U.S. national security commitments and capabilities. The exercise
resulted in a series of Presidential Review Memoranda (PRMs), one of
which, PRM-10, describing U.S. force commitments worldwide, became the
basis for the Presidential Directive 18, setting up the RDF.36
In September 1977, addressing the National Security Industrial Associa-
tion, Secretary of Defense Harold Brown described several highlights of the
new U.S. decision.37 He stated that the United States must continue to main-
tain a defense posture that permitted it to respond effectively and simultane-
ously to both relatively minor as well as major military contingencies. The
requirements for such a posture, over and above the forces programmed for
Europe, were a limited number of light land combat forces, naval and tactical
air forces, and strategic mobility. The initial geographic areas of concern
were Korea, the Middle East, and the Persian Gulf.38
The fall of the Shah of Iran in early 1979 and the Soviet entry into Af-
ghanistan at the end of that year not only quickened the pace of the RDF
buildup, but also caused the United States to shift its focus exclusively to that
part of the Indian Ocean region now known as Southwest Asia.39 Along with
the new command structure for the RDF, and USCENTCOM, the strength
of forces assigned to them has grown from what President Carter estimated
as "from a few ships or air squadrons to formations as large as 100,000 men
together with their support"40 to nearly 400,000 men, if reserves are in-
cluded.41 In the period 1984-88, spending on RDF will total $13.6 billion.42
The RDF is qualified as the "cutting edge" of America's total power pro-
jection system,43 and such a force is intended to maintain an "intervention
capability" for the United States "to be used unilaterally" if necessary in
Third World contingencies.44 General Bernard Rogers, the U.S. Army Chief
of Staff, suggested that the RDF was being created in response to the U.S.
President's desire for a specialized force "to handle conflicts in the Third
World." Therefore, it has been further argued that the unusually high "teeth
to tail," or support-to-combat, ratio of the RDF force structure is justified
in view of the situation that the force would be primarily deployed in areas
lacking any but the most rudimentary forms of logistical infrastructure. 45
In an emergency, specific units in all services designated as RDF units
will revert to USCENTCOM, which will report directly to the organization
of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. USCENTCOM has a hold on five army and two
marine divisions, plus the equivalent of ten air wings. With support units, the
RDF numbers about 220,000 men.46
Logistics appear to create formidable problems for the RDF strategy. For
the United States, Southwest Asia poses a challenge of nearly 7000 miles of
an air line of communication (LOG) and 8000 miles of sea LOC via the
Suez Canal, which if closed would add another 4000 miles. During the 1973
Arab-Israeli war, for every ton of American cargo delivered to Israel, over
six tons of fuel was used in the air LOC. When, for political reasons, the
United States decided to fly 12 F-4s, with their support nonstop from the
East Coast to Cairo, it took 28 C-5s, 4 C-141 loads, and 32 KC-135 re-
fuelings.47
The Americans are attempting to overcome this strategic mobility prob-
lem with a new concept of maritime prepositioning, both offshore and on-
shore. The initial maritime positioning ships containing the heavy equipment
and supplies for a 12,000-man Marine Amphibious Brigade are deployed off
Diego Garcia. The embarked equipment will support ground combat opera-
tions, the essential functions of marine aviation, and the air-ground logistics
system. In addition, a 30-day contingency block of consumables, spares, and
replacements will be included.48
As more of these ships become available, they could be based in other
places, such as in Norway, Great Britain, the Philippines, the Mediterranean,
or friendly ports along the Indian Ocean littoral. They would be able to sail
separately on a routine basis, or in company with the forward-deployed am-
phibious-ready groups. In the event of a crisis, the personnel to operate the
equipment could be flown in Military Airlift Command aircraft to the region
to join the waiting prepositioned ships.49
The periodical exercises conducted by U.S. combined forces with local
forces provided clues to gaps in future integrated operations such as the RDF
use. After Bright Star '82, General Kingston, the present USCENTCOM
Commander, said that a certain amount of warning time was essential to the
RDF mission. He stated, for example, that with adequate advance notice of
four or five days, he could get an airborne brigade "on the ground" in the
Persian Gulf region in 48 hours, and an airborne division in 10-14 days.50
Three contingencies would activate the RDF: Soviet intervention, re-
gional aggression, and civil strife. The Soviet threat is the "least likely to
occur" and also not the threat that worries the local states, which are con-
cerned with regional rivalries.51
First and foremost, the RDF is intended as a deterrent. The. decision
about its size, combat equipment, and mobility are influenced by its expected
impact on the "international behavior of other states and/or groups."52 In a
supportive role, the RDF is expected to intervene within a matter of days
to bolster a regime faced with an external threat or internal anti-regime chal-
lenge.53 In a coercive interventionary role, it must be prepared to fight its
way in and establish an operating area and a fairly rigorous line of resupply,
probably by sealift.54
Even before the later significance of Diego Garcia became obvious, the
atoll figured prominently in the navy's and the DOD's "strategic island con-
cept" plan as early as the 1950s.55 Initially the island was being canvassed
as a "modest communication base," as an alternative to the U.S. station in
Eritrea (Ethiopia). The Congress supported the idea since the cost of fund-
ing for Ethiopian forces as a consideration for the Eritrean base was es-
calating.56
The communication station became operational on March 23, 1973.
Though there was no official announcement, it was described as an essential
development to help control the future movement of American ships and
planes through the area.57 A New York Times report declared that it opened
a new chapter in America's involvement in the Indian Ocean. Diego Garcia
became an important link in the U.S. Worldwide Military Command and
control systems. The facility was designed to fill a long-felt gap in high-
frequency radio coverage in the area. Diego Garcia receives its information
from the Defense Satellite Communications System and relays it to the naval
and air units in the region.58
Following the 1973 Arab-Israeli war and the oil crises, the defense plan-
ners put forward an expansion plan for Diego Garcia and a $29 million
authorization. The Defense Department justified it along the following lines:59
MISSION AND PROJECT:

The Naval communication station provides Fleet broadcasts, tactical ship-
to-shore and point-to-point communications and is a critical link in the
Defense Communication system.
A new mission is being assigned to this station to support periodical pres-
ence of an Indian Ocean Task Group. The project provides facilities to im-
prove Diego Garcia for logistically supporting the Task Group.
IMPACT IF NOT PROVIDED:
If this project is not provided, there will be no fixed site to support carrier
task force operations in the Indian Ocean area.
As early as 1968, the U.S. Chief of Naval Operations, Admiral Thomas

Moorer, suggested that Diego Garcia should serve as a base for aerial re-
connaissance, headquarters for a small permanent staff, and facilities for ser-
vicing one aircraft carrier on special occasions. Two further functions were
added by the Joint Chiefs of Staff: the building of a modest communications
center and facilities for receiving strategic submarines. However, the Senate
did not approve of the funding plan.60
The situation changed by the mid-70s. Concomitant with the Nixon Doc-
trine and to ensure the maintenance of a viable defense posture in the over-
all Indian Ocean region, the "strategic mobility" concept received increased
emphasis. The expanded facility at the atoll was viewed as central for peace-
time projections as well as wartime assignments of the U.S. navy for the
area.61 However, even as late as 1973, the Pentagon reiterated in the Con-
gress that "there were no plans to transform Diego Garcia into a base facility
from which forces could be projected or that would provide a location for
basing of ships and aircraft."62
With the prospects for access to facilities in the littoral states diminished,
Diego Garcia assumed greater importance in U.S. strategic considerations.
Further, an added military justification for upgrading the facility arose in the
form of Soviet facilities in Berbera (Somalia). Contrary to the view that
Western facilities in the Indian Ocean constituted a "far more substantial
infrastructure than the Russians have been able to assemble,"63 assertions
were made that Diego Garcia alone "would not even equal the Soviet facilities
in Somalia."64
Thus, a new Anglo-U.S. agreement was signed providing for expansion
of the existing facility into a "logistics facility," the scope of which included
an anchorage, airfield, support and supply elements and ancillary services,
personnel accommodation, and transmitting and receiving services.65
The expansion was to facilitate an extended and semi-continuous Ameri-
can presence in the Indian Ocean. The 12,000-foot runway, the dredged
harbor, and the lagoon would enable the United States to use the facility for
strategic units.66 The runway can be used by almost any aircraft in the world,
including the U.S. B-52 strategic bombers and the KC-135 plane used for
refueling them, even if the B-52s are fully loaded.67 In March 1974, Admiral
Moorer, then Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, admitted in Senate
testimony that Diego Garcia would accommodate B-52s,68 and a congressional
report confirmed that in 1979.69 In early 1980, Japanese sources reported
that beginning in January 1980, the United States began flying regular B-52
missions from Diego Garcia.70 Officially, two squadrons of B-52s are assigned
to USCENTCOM as part of the U.S. air force's "strategic power projection
force,"71 and they have participated in combined military maneuvers in the
Southwest Asian theater.72 Meanwhile, Diego Garcia was being used as transit
base for long-range reconnaissance P-3 and SR-71 planes flying between the
Philippines and Kenya.73
The protected harbor at Diego Garcia is capable of harboring an aircraft
carrier (CVAN) and support ships, that is, a carrier task group. The fuel
storage capacity on the atoll, 380,000 barrels of aviation fuel and 320,000
barrels of fuel oil, is enough to supply a carrier task group for about 39 days.
In addition, the harbor contains both an anchorage and 550 feet of berthing
facilities for loading and unloading fuel.74
Diego Garcia is thus pivotal to the military and strategic measures decided
upon at the beginning of the 1980s, for example, securing of rights to use mili-
tary facilities in the littoral states, the deployment of marines, advance storage
of arms on ships for use by the RDF. Former constraints limiting the offen-
sive capabilities of Diego Garcia have been dropped.75 The deployment of
up to 30 U.S. naval units (including two aircraft carrier task groups) on
standby in the Gulf region in recent crises considerably increased the impor-
tance of Diego Garcia.
Apart from Diego Garcia, there is evidence that the United States intends
to have a permanent presence in the Gulf backed by access to facilities in

countries that have regimes sympathetic to such a presence.
Confusion persists as to the exact operational distinction between "bases,"
"facilities," "access agreeements," and "host-nation support." This confusion
is further compounded by official disclosures that the United States in many
instances—indeed, in most—seeks not formal, public guarantees and agree-
ments, but rather the establishment of "quiet consultation and of quiet build-
ing of an ability."78 Further, crucial details of various arrangements the United
States has concluded with some of the regional states are missing even in
congressional reports, some of which are cited below:
Kenya: 77 The June 1980 agreement provides (security deletion). The
United States will give to Kenya a total of $50 million in economic and
food aid and $27 million in foreign military sales credits over 1981-82.
Given the consistently friendly relations between the two nations, Kenyan
officials felt that a formal agreement was not necessary (security deletion).
The agreement involves (security deletion). The projects will provide the
United States (security deletion).
Mombasa and adjacent port and airfield facilities should clearly enhance
the operational facility of the U.S. fleet. Also, the Nanyuki air base is only
1900 air miles from the nearest Gulf shore, compared to 2700 miles from
Mombasa, which is only 4-6 days sailing time to the Strait of Hormuz.
Oman: The U.S. provided $25 million in Foreign Military Sales to
Oman in 1980 and again in FY 1981 . . . (security deletion) .78
The former RAF base at Masirah has been made available to U.S. forces.
A new U.S. facility came up at Juff, on the Gulf of Oman, in 1978. An-
other U.S. facility was completed in Al Qasab, on the extreme finger of
Oman jutting into the Strait of Hormuz.79
The 1800-strong amphibious marine task force and the USCENTCOM
command ship, the U.S.S. LaSalle, are headquartered in and around these
facilities.80
The Defense Department has announced its plan to build a "brigade stag-
ing facility" at Thumrait in Oman and has asked for appropriate funding
in FY 1985 and 1986.81
Bahrain: Under the terms of the agreement with Bahrain, the United
States has contracted for limited repair, refueling, and replenishment for
Mideast for (security deletion). Because of the sharp increase in the vol-
ume of U.S. naval forces in the region, U.S. policymakers might have to
reexamine the adequacy of logistical capabilities in Bahrain (security
deletion).
Drydocks of various sizes exist there, some of which may be of political
utility to the navy. The largest of the Bahrain drydocks was constructed
under the aegis of the OAPEC and is reportedly capable of handling ves-
sels the size of large oil tankers (security deletion).
Somalia:82 The August 1980 agreement provides for U.S. use of Somali
facilities in Mogadishu, but particularly in Berbera, including (security
deletion).
Unlike Oman and Kenya, who prefer a limited U.S. military presence and
low profile on implementing access agreements, Somalia welcomes a
large number of Americans and extensive high-visibility use of Somali
facilities. Somalia will probably also (security deletion).
Barbera is 600 miles closer to Gulf than Mombasa and Diego Garcia. It
has an excellent 2.5-mile runway, fuel storage tanks, and ample open space
for extensive prepositioning of equipment. Bunkers exist for 12 fighter
aircraft and there are a limited number of general operations and support
buildings.
Australia and the Philippines have provided the traditional U.S. naval
bases that have now grown in importance due to increased U.S. naval interest
in the Indian Ocean. At a meeting of ANZUS foreign ministers in Washington
in early 1980, the Indian Ocean was formally included in future ANZUS
activities. Australia later sent some naval units and the carrier Melbourne to
the Strait of Hormuz and took part in joint naval exercises there and in the
eastern Indian Ocean.83 Australia also agreed to incorporate the Darwin air
force base into the B-52 strategic bomber network and appeared prepared in
principle to open the naval base at Cockburn Sound on the Indian Ocean to
the U.S. navy, possibly with a view to the more long-term home-porting of
personnel. Australia's air force uses Diego Garcia for long-distance recon-
naissance over the Indian Ocean.84
Three most important military installations impinging on the strategic
balance of the superpowers have been in operation in Australia from the late
1960s and have since been expanded:
1. The Exmouth Communication Center (North West Cape), which spe-
cializes inter alia in very-low-frequency communication with submerged
submarines;
2. The Nurrungar Early Warning Satellite Station, which has the task of
detecting enemy missile attacks; and
3. The Pine Gap Reconnaissance Station, which is linked to a geostation-
ary satellite looking into Soviet and Chinese territories—this is a com-
munication and EW interception facility.85
The recent New Zealand government policy of banning nuclear-armed

ships from its ports may lead to a "reappraisal" of the ANZUS, according to
Australian Prime Minister Robert Hawke.86
The bases in the Philippines, primarily Clark Field, an air force base,
and Subic Bay naval base, are valuable to U.S. Indian Ocean strategy. They
provide key logistics and supply facilities that permit transshipment between
the Western Pacific and the Indian Ocean areas and thus help maintain a
continuous U.S. military presence in these regions.87
In fact, in the entire Indian Ocean region, the ports of only two coun-
tries—Iraq and South Yemen (PDRY)—are not open to U.S. warships.88
The United States had "voluntarily denied itself" access to ports in India
since 1971, when India instituted a requirement that naval vessels visiting
Indian ports specify whether they were carrying nuclear weapons. In 1972,
this was modified to a simple request that host facilities in Indian ports not
be sought for vessels carrying nuclear weapons.89 However, of late there
seems to be some change in the situation. For the first time in 14 years, a
U.S. warship, the U.S.S. Lewis B. Puller, arrived in Bombay on May 21,
1984, on a three-day goodwill visit.90 She also visited Cochin.
The Indian Ocean in Emerging U.S. Strategy

The United States says that it is preparing to face challenges in the Indian
Ocean ranging from the containment of crises in peacetime to general warfare
and from direct confrontation with the Soviet Union to conflict with nations
that are dubbed as its clients in what have come to be known as "proxy"
wars.91 To confront these challenges, it is said, "maritime superiority" is
crucial and is derived from the balance of naval forces "in being"—both naval
and merchant ships, aircraft, munitions, and manpower—as well as from
logistics, training, tactics, operational experience, and overseas support struc-
ture.92
Possible U.S. naval missions in the Indian Ocean are listed as deterrence,
strategic nuclear capability, sea control, projection of power ashore, support
of allies, and peacetime presence.93 The goal of the naval presence is defined
as "the use of naval forces short of war to achieve political objectives" and
diplomatic advantage.94
In the strategic realm, the Indian Ocean provides the United States with
an ideal spot for deployment of sea-based missiles aimed at the Soviet Union.
The geographic location of waters, especially around the Red Sea, the Persian
Gulf, and the Arabian Sea, provide some of the best locations for U.S. sea-
based missile deployment as a deterrent against the Soviet Union.95 The U.S.
interest in the defense potential of the Indian Ocean is also apparent in the
fact that ocean engineering in the United States is still primarily military
oriented. Washington appreciates the enormous importance of oceanography
and approaches it as a "necessary support element in all warfare areas."96
As land-based missiles become increasingly vulnerable, undersea long-range
missiles have become the key to U.S. strategic offense and defense. The U.S.
navy, as Admiral Zumwalt noted, has come to view its assignment as The
Strategic Force as its primary responsibility.97
The determination of American strategic planners to continue using the
sea-based strategic potential was also evident from the American opposition
to additional constraints on the strategic use of the seabed in the Seabed
Arms Control Treaty. Although the treaty forbids "the emplacement of
nuclear weapons or other weapons of mass destruction on or in the seabed
beyond a 12 mile maritime zone," submarines and other such vehicles that
can navigate beneath the waters, but above the seabed (without being in
contact with the seabed), are viewed by Washington as any other ship and
thus not subject to the prohibition of the treaty.98 The Joint Chiefs of Staff
openly warned that "any additional constraints on military use of the seabed
beyond the prohibitions contained in the treaty" bear a potential for "grave
harm to the U.S. national security interests."99 The thrust of the American
forward naval strategy is well expressed in the following jingle:100
Keep deterrence out at sea
Where the real-estate is free
And it is far away from me.
The full potential of the conventional capabilities of U.S. forces in the

Indian Ocean area has not yet been realized. Maximum effective use of all
facilities contracted for in Kenya, Somalia, and Oman and on Diego Garcia,
for instance, will not be possible for several years because of the extensive
work still required,101 which is estimated to cost another $1 billion in addi-
tion to the RDF cost of $13.6 billion. For the future, two proposals have been
discussed to improve RDF effectiveness. One is prepositioning of armor and
other heavy equipment "close to or in the Persian Gulf area itself." The other
is a permanent U.S. military presence in the area.102 At the same time, the
U.S. military assistance to and cooperation with Gulf states are so designed
as to be "helpful to the United States in a time of conflict."103
However, such cooperation itself seems to have generated further security
needs. The massive transfer of the most sophisticated weapon systems into
the West Asia-Persian Gulf region and the presence of U.S. personnel in that
area related to this militarization were the subject of a 1977 U.S. Congress
Staff Study, which estimated that there were 100,000 Americans (30,000 in
Saudi Arabia and 70,000 in Iran) in mostly "defense-related activities." It
observed that this developing situation posed particular policy problems for
the United States. The estimate then was that there would be over 150,000
Americans living in the Gulf by 1980.104 The Iranian revolution may have
drastically cut this figure, yet it continues to be substantial.
In a contrary view, it has been argued that the basic U.S. national interest
of maintaining access to Gulf oil at tolerable prices, both for the United States
and its allies, could be promoted by maintaining a series of close relationships
with the oil states,105 and not exclusively by military means.
The Soviet Union

Soviet Interests in the Indian Ocean
Soviet interests in the Indian Ocean center on countering U.S. military and
political thrusts in the region, thwarting possible American plans to pose a
strategic missile threat from that front, securing its long sea lanes, and ex-
tending assistance to friendly countries in the littoral, especially in times of
threats to their security. All these make the Soviet presence in the Indian
Ocean area an "essentially defense oriented" one.106
The principal reason for the Soviet Union's initial involvement in the
Indian Ocean region was the need for reciprocal arrangements with littoral
states that would assist its attempts to break through the Western containment
of its long southern flank, effected in the 1950s, principally through the Bagh-
dad Pact and, to a lesser extent, SEATO.107 By 1968, after a major building
program, Moscow was able to establish its access to the region.
One important political function of the Soviet navy in the Indian Ocean
was to provide support for the regional states threatened with "imperialist
intervention." Both in the 1971 Bangladesh conflict and in the 1973 Arab-
Israeli war, the Soviet fleet, after swift reinforcement, took up positions that
countered U.S. naval movements and projected an image of active support
for the interests of Third World states.108
Throughout the 1970s, Soviet pronouncements explaining the presence of
its fleet in the Indian Ocean contained constant references to the threat to
Soviet territory, posed in the first instance by American submarines with nu-
clear missiles operating from the Indian Ocean, combined with the offensive
capability of U.S. aircraft carriers.109 Since Washington has not expressly ruled
out deployment of strategic submarines in the Indian Ocean, the Soviets do
not exclude such a threat, especially when the imminent introduction of Tri-
dents would probably make this a reality.110 The Trident, with its more so-
phisticated support systems, will be able to stay longer on Indian Ocean mis-
sions than the current Polaris and Poseidon submarines, which must make
costly trips back and forth to Guam. In Soviet calculations, the Indian Ocean
provides certain geographical advantages for U.S. targeting. From the Pacific,
for example, even with its increased range (over 6000 miles), the Trident
D-5 missile could reach only the central part of the Soviet Union via "a nar-
row strip along the coast," whereas such missiles fired from the vast Arabian
sea and the Bay of Bengal could strike Soviet targets "on a much wider
front."111 Moscow might perceive greater danger in what American "naval-
ists" are fond of advocating—that "the U.S. navy must make an ally of sur-
prise." One could plausibly argue that the deployment of the Trident in the
Indian Ocean could be perceived by the Russians as giving to the United
States an enhanced first-strike capability.
The Soviet Union, as a nation continually in need of food supplies, has
extensive fishing fleets in the Indian Ocean. Historically, warships follow
these fishing fleets simply to ensure their safety and add some weight to their
right to be where they are.112
Although in the 1950s and 1960s, the military components of Soviet pol-
icy in the Indian Ocean region were still "on the whole reactive" vis-a-vis the
overwhelming influence of the West, by 1970 these circumstances had changed
somewhat.113 However, in most Western analyses of the military element of
Soviet policy in the area, the navy has been accorded undue emphasis. In the
Soviet Union's two most important military operations in the Indian Ocean
region so far—the Big Lift to Ethiopia to win back the Ogaden at the end
of 1977 and the beginning of 1978 and the intervention in Afghanistan—the
fleet has played only a peripheral supporting role.114
Further, the concern in America, and in the West generally, over oil sup-
plies has its counterpart in the Soviet Union in the form of the threat repre-
sented by the "China syndrome." The image of a Soviet Union moving nearer
the Gulf and spreading its military net in an ever widening circle, against a
background of instability in Iran and in the Arab Gulf states, is qualitatively

equivalent to the Soviet image of increased rapprochement between China
and America (as well as Japan and Western Europe). Both developments
raise the superpowers' perception of threat—in the United States on the basis
of the formula "oil dependence plus the Soviet Union," and in the Soviet
Union according to that of "collusion between the main adversaries."115
Soviet Capabilities
Since its first entry, in 1968 into the Indian Ocean region, the Soviet navy
has steadily increased its presence there. But Moscow has been unable to
obtain versatile base facilities comparable to those available to the United
States. Prior to 1977, the only permanently based Soviet vessel was a repair
ship at Berbera. Many Soviet efforts to acquire bases, such as the 1978 bid
for Gan in the Maldives, did not prove fruitful.116 The Soviet navy used to
maintain deep-sea buoy moorings or anchorages, described as berthing sta-
tions or floating bases by the West, off the coast of Mauritius in interna-
tional waters, which provided rendezvous points for replenishment of ships
operating in the area.117 Their present status is not known.
Aden in South Yemen has witnessed the heaviest Soviet buildup, par-
ticularly after the Soviet withdrawal of naval and air force equipment from
Somalia at the end of 1977. In May 1979, the Soviet Union conducted
a naval demonstration off Aden. Aircraft from the carrier Minsk performed
vertical takeoffs and landings and the amphibious assault ship Ivan Rogov,
with 499 marines on board, was put through its paces.118 The Ethiopian ports
of Assab and Massawa are open to the Soviet navy, but these lie in Eritrean
territory and hence not far from the areas of fighting. Massawa is a deep-
water port and suitable for enlargement for military purposes. Since 1980,
the Dahlak islands off Massawa have been extended for military uses by the
Soviet Union. The Soviet Union makes use of harbors in Mozambique (Ma-
puto, Beira, Nacala), which could come to play an important role if the con-
flict in Southern Africa were to intensify.119 In India, the Soviet navy has no
exclusive right of access, but in the event of an international conflict it
would most probably invoke the 1971 bilateral treaty under which it could
obtain such rights, always provided that this was also in India's own inter-
ests.120 The Soviet Union has important military facilities for its navy and air
force outside the Indian Ocean, in Vietnam (Cam Ranh Bay and Da Nang)
and hence within reach of the Malacca strait and providing a geostrategic
link between its Pacific harbors and those in the Indian Ocean.121
Given its lack of base facilities, Soviet supply lines stretch from Vladivos-
tok—an incredibly long distance—through areas that could easily be inter-
dicted. Alternatively, they have to come through the Dardanelles, the Suez
Canal, and the narrow Straits of Jubal, "again a most dangerous route in the
event of hostilities."122 It has therefore been contended that the Soviet in-
crease of ships in the Indian Ocean is merely "part and parcel" of the in-
crease of the Soviet navy in all oceans, and that this general buildup in turn
is merely part of the total increase in Soviet naval strength since the Cuban
missile crisis proved to the Soviets the value of a stronger fleet.123
However, there is another consideration that determines the Soviet naval
behavior in the region. Besides providing a countervailing presence, as in the
case of 1971 and 1973 crises, the Soviet naval factor has, in fact, been in-
voked in the contexts of regional conflicts as well. Thus, in 1973, Moscow
sent a naval contingent to Iraq during the latter's border clash with Kuwait.
In 1977 and 1978, the fleet provided support for the air bridge operations
in the Ogaden war. Amphibious assault ships bought in material and Soviet
units operated just outside the harbor at Massawa, which had been cut off
by Eritrean rebels. And at the beginning of 1981, the Soviet Union rein-
forced its naval presence in Mozambique in response to a South African in-
cursion there.124
As a result, though the size of the Soviet naval force regularly fluctuated
from 1968 to 1973, the strength of both major and interim groups steadily
increased. In the summer of 1973, the Soviet Union deployed twice as many
surface combatants to the Indian Ocean (up to 30) as they had done in
the previous summer. Moreover, they deployed a submarine, and instead of
departing after the usual five or six months, most of the interim group re-
mained in Indian Ocean almost an entire year.125 This increased naval pres-
ence was the beginning of what is now a continuous year-round force, with
units normally relieved on a one-to-one basis.126 Units generally assigned to
the Soviet Indian Ocean squadron in the beginning of the 1980s numbered
between 20 and 22 ships. The force is usually composed of one or two ma-
jor combatants, four minor combatants, one or two amphibious units, one
submarine, and various support, research, and space-related ships.127
The overriding limitations of the Soviet navy seem to dissipate its chal-
lenges to the West, both at the tactical/regional level and in the global/stra-
tegic context. It has, therefore, been forcefully argued that the Soviets just
cannot afford to hurt critical Western interests in the Indian Ocean area. In
a purely maritime worldwide conflict between NATO and the Warsaw Pact
nations, the Soviet Union could use its forces in the Indian Ocean to hinder
Western oil supplies. But the very existence of a Soviet Indian Ocean squad-
ron would increase the dispersion of Moscow's naval forces, which are al-
ready divided between Murmansk and Vladivostok.128 "According to all tra-
ditional criteria of naval power," claims one analyst, "the Indian Ocean
squadron would be a source of weakness rather than strength, and isolated
squadrons are unlikely to play any major disruptive role."129
It has been argued that in the event of a general war, the greater the
number of Soviet ships located in the Indian Ocean—rather than in the At-
lantic, the Mediterranean, or the Pacific—"the better it would be for the
West." Though the Soviet ships could hinder or even halt Western oil sup-
plies from the Gulf, in the crucial first weeks of the war this would be a
less important threat to the West than attacks on troop convoys across the
Atlantic; and, in any case, Soviet ships would not be ideal for attacks on
commerce because of their limited gun armament.130 In a scenario including
U.S. occupation of oil fields and a subsequent intervention by Moscow, the

Soviet navy would probably be given tasks only in connection with air opera-
tions over the oceans to be conducted mainly from Soviet territory.131
Nor is the picture of naval interdiction that much brighter for the Soviet
side, for the ASW balance would swing against the Soviet navy, which—
using a submarine/bomber combination—could sink only 30 percent of the
tanker traffic using the Gulf sea lanes.132 Soviet naval deployment in the In-
dian Ocean—particularly submarines, depends on long-range reinforcement,
which consumes both time and resources.
As for naval capabilities against U.S. carrier task forces in the Indian
Ocean, the Soviet navy could commit currently at most some 10 submarines
and about 100 naval bombers. The transit of the Ivan Rogov, an amphibious
assault ship, in May 1979 with its naval infantry battalion of 400 men
"hardly tips the balance in any disastrous sense." Nor are there any signs
that the Soviet Union is developing a major capability in the American
style. If anything, Soviet naval developments appear to be designed to
"frustrate the preferred American mode [naval intervention], rather than
to compete with it."183
The Indian Ocean in Emerging Soviet Strategy

Significant developments in Soviet naval construction now taking place could
affect the naval balance in the Indian Ocean. The Pentagon's suspicion134
that the Soviets are building a larger conventional aircraft carrier with a
full-length flight deck has already been proved correct.135 This ship is nu-
clear-powered, displaces about 70,000 tons, has catapults and arresting gear,
and carries high-performance conventional takeoff and landing aircraft.
Another recent development that the U.S. Defense Department considers
"most significant" is the Kiev-class carrier, the first Soviet-built ship to carry
fixed-wing aircraft.136
With a displacement of 28,000 tons, the nuclear-powered guided-missile
cruiser KIROV is considered the largest combatant other than aircraft car-
riers built by any country since World War II. Another type of multi-purpose
guided-missile cruiser, tentatively designated the BLK-COM-1, is also under
construction. Both cruisers represent a departure from the Soviet special-
purpose cruiser designs of the 1960s and 1970s.137 Perhaps they have a
raider role.
Extensive Soviet ship-borne air defense capabilities would increase the
effectiveness of surface combatants when operating beyond the range of land-
based fighter planes. However, the lack of adequate Soviet carrier-based fight-
ers would remain a weakness in the short run.138 Moreover, the open-ocean
effectiveness of Soviet naval forces is adversely affected by geographic con-
straints that are likely to remain unmitigated. The four Soviet fleets—Northern,
Baltic, Black Sea, and Pacific—are widely separated and must either traverse
considerable distances or transit through choke points to reach the open
ocean. To enter the North Atlantic, the Northern Fleet (based along the
Barents Sea) must transit more than 1500 miles through waters bounded by
potentially unfriendly nations. The Baltic Fleet has access to the oceans only
through the narrow, easily mined Skagerrak dominated by Sweden, Denmark,
Norway, and West Germany. The Black Sea Fleet can reach the Mediter-
ranean Sea only by transiting the Bosphorus and the Dardenelles, which are
also narrow and easily mined and are controlled by Turkey.139
These constraints could be offset somewhat by prehostilities deployments,
but this would provide significant strategic warning to the United States and
its allies.140
The Soviet Pacific Fleet is concentrated at Vladivostok, on the Sea of
Japan, and Petropavlovsk, in the northwest Pacific Ocean. Forces at Vladi-
vostok have ready access to the Sea of Japan, but to reach the Pacific Ocean
they must pass through the strait of Tsushima close to Japan and South Ko-
rea, waters readily accessible to Western forces. Although the fleet at Petro-
pavlovsk has easy accress to the Pacific Ocean, Petropavlovsk itself is lo-
cated in the Kamchatka Peninsula, which is remote from the Soviet heartland
and not easily resupplied. Thus, the Soviet navy would have difficulty in main-
taining operations out of Petropavlovsk unless major sea lanes of resupply
could be sustained.141
Such is the Pentagon's own assessment of the Soviet naval capability.
India
India is by far the strongest military power in the Indian Ocean littoral and
also the most potent naval power. Since the early 1970s, the Indian navy's
share in the defense budget of the country has steadily increased. But the
navy has suffered significantly from unplanned growth. It could not have
been otherwise, given the narrow base and the organizational disruptions of
the immediate post-independence years, its overwhelming dependence on the
Royal Navy for doctrine as well as for leadership, and the resultant subordi-
nation of purely Indian interests to the concepts of an imperial—albeit van-
ishing—strategy.
The acquisition of hardware from wherever it was available and, most
important of all, the neglect of its submarine arm until well into the 1960s
contributed further to this unplanned growth. The meager 4 percent of the
defense budget that was the navy's share until well after 1960, despite the
vociferous declamations in Parliament and the press in support of a strong
and self-reliant naval force, typified a pervasive lack of understanding of
maritime affairs and strategy in general and of naval affairs in particular.
There has of course been a compensating advantage in this slow and
often faltering buildup of the Indian navy. It is that the naval personnel have
had time to become well grounded in their profession and have had the bene-
fit of a long and mostly beneficial stewardship of senior officers of the Royal
Navy. This may explain the relatively faster growth of recent years, which
has been astonishingly smooth and free of any upheavals among the navy's
personnel, and the transformations in command and control that became

necessary to cope with the needs of a high-technology, three-dimensional
Naval force.
The dawn of the 1970s was a period of change and innovation. By con-
sensus of the lower deck, the traditional uniform, the square rig and the
sailor's cap, underwent a metamorphosis. Everyone preferred to wear a
peak cap and abandon the bell-bottom trouser. It heralded the new, high-
technology era of the submarine and the missile, the gas turbine, and an
almost total break from the apron strings of the Royal Navy, its tactical doc-
trine and methods of training and management. With increasing acquisition
of Soviet hardware, this had become inevitable. But the Indian navy did not
forsake its language nor did it abandon the hallowed traditions and several
quaint customs that were the legacy of its long and fruitful association with
Britain and her Royal Navy.
The naval war in 1971 against Pakistan was won essentially by fast-moving,
hard-hitting coastal forces. Surprise was the essential factor responsible for
such heavy casualties on the opponent in the west. The carrier-centered task
force in the east played its appointed role in the blockade of erstwhile East
Pakistan and helped in neutralizing Pakistani air power around Dacca and
Cox's Bazar. The one gaping shortcoming in this short, swift campaign was
the navy's (and the army's) gaucherie in amphibious operations. In the am-
phibious landings attempted at Cox's Bazar, one LCT went aground and a
few obedient, heavily equipped Gurkha troops drowned in deep water when
they stepped off their landing craft in the semi-darkness of dawn in what
should have been waist-deep water. The operation was hastily abandoned.
The lack of amphibious capability is still the most glaring gap in the navy's
capability in 1987.
Since the Bangladesh watershed and what could have been an epochal
encounter with the U.S.S. Enterprise, India has become much more conscious
of its shortcomings at sea. The importance of maritime power in all its mul-
titudinous manifestations is being daily driven home—through the new
Law of the Sea Convention, the continuing debate concerning Diego Garcia,
the Soviet presence in Afghanistan and what it may portend in the Persian
Gulf and the Arabian Sea, and the increasing naval clout of the sub-conti-
nental neighbors.
Maritime power is the sum total of several constituent capabilities. Naval
forces are only a part of the total formulation, which consists of a country's
industrial capacity and its resultant economic strength, the strength of its
merchant fleet, the quality of its ports and harbors and of its shipbuilding and
ship repair facilities, the productivity of its fishing fleet, and its technological
and hydrological capacity to exploit the resources to be found in its economic
zone. India's relative lag in its shipbuilding and ship repair industry—not-
withstanding the fact that it is among the very few countries that build their
own warships—has undoubtedly affected India's stature at sea. At the other
end of the spectrum, India's advance in ocean sciences, the explorations car-
ried out by its oceanographic ships, its acceptance as a pioneer investor in
the seabed mining enterprise, and its recent participation in the councils of
the Antarctic Treaty countries have all contributed to her standing as a
resurgent maritime nation.
The Indian navy is not well served by bases on the mainland if one
excludes Visakhapatnam, and even that base has its geographical and hydro-
graphic limitations, most of them quite severe. In almost every case the In-
dian navy has to share its base ports with commercial traffic for the simple
reason that the almost smooth and unindented coasts of India are poorly
served by natural, deep-water harbors. In Bombay the security of the navy's
little niche at the southern end of the Island of Bombay is distorted by the
fact that the naval dockyard and berths for both surface vessels and subma-
rines are located in the midst of the metropolis' bustling business district. The
situation in Goa and Cochin is not much better. It is well known that in De-
cember 1971 the Pakistani submarine Ghazi attempted to lay mines in the nar-
row entrance channel of the harbor at Visakhapatnam to bottle up the fleet.
Fortunately, the fleet was elsewhere, safely anchored.
It is my view that the Indian navy must give priority to establishing safe
and secure bases for its fleet. Very properly, the many large and secluded
anchorages in the Andaman and Nicobar Islands come to mind. A large, well-
supported, and equally well-defended naval base in the Andamans will have
the added advantage of overlooking the strategic Strait of Malacca, one of
the historic choke points of the Indian Ocean. As the naval activities of the
extra-regional powers are stepped up in the Southwest Pacific and spill over
into the Indian Ocean, the significance of an Andamans complex will in-
crease. Efforts to develop such a complex were initiated in 1986 and should
be accelerated. In the west, Bombay must be replaced as the main naval base
if the fleet is to operate with any safety in times of tension and near-war
situations. The decision to establish a new base at Karwar is a welcome one.
It acquires compelling logic from the increased activities of extra-regional
navies in the Arabian Sea as well as from the potential Pakistani naval threat.
Some observers have argued that the Indian navy should break away
from its Pakistan-centered policies and tactics. My own view is that until
the end of this decade, at least, our problem at sea will mainly be Pakistan.
Neither the United States nor the Soviet Union is going to apply its naval
forces directly against India. Attempts will be made to use a proxy. That
proxy will be Pakistan. The Indian navy will therefore have to keep a very
close watch on the manner in which Pakistan's naval armory is being re-
plenished and modernized. It will have to negate the enemy's most formi-
dable weapons, for if the potential opponent has weapons of equal destructive-
ness, the decisive advantage will go to the side that first creates a suitable
defense.
Abiding by this rule, the Indian navy must take note of the recent acqui-
sition by Pakistan of additional destroyers equipped with surface-to-surface
Harpoon missiles as well as sub-surface-to-surface Harpoon missiles of ex-
tremely high sophistication that can be fitted to its submarines. China, too,
has shown increasing interest in the Indian Ocean an
to Pakistan, Sri Lanka, and Bangladesh in 1986. The Chinese have also
transferred naval vessels to these countries and developed military-aid rela-
tionships with them.
The Harpoon-equipped submarine poses a threat not only to naval ves-
sels but also to vital shore-based facilities such as nuclear power plants, oil
refineries, and other industrial installations. The Pakistani submarine threat
is not limited to the west coast of India; it could be projected to the east coast
as well. Moreover, future trends point to submarines being fitted with longer-
range cruise missiles.
The presence of submarines of extra-regional powers in the waters around
India further complicates the Indian security effort. This foreign presence has
aroused concern about possible intelligence-sharing arrangements between
Pakistan and the U.S. Central Command involving hydrographic and other
data relevant to submarine operations around Indian waters. This concern
has now been compounded by the projected American sale of AWAC planes
to Pakistan.
Given the emerging security environment in the Indian Ocean, the In-
dian navy defines a fourfold mission:
1. To safeguard the Indian coastline and vital installations in the vicinity
of the coastline against both surface and submarine threats.
2. To safeguard the flow of trade into and out of Indian ports during
limited war situations.
3. To restrict the naval activities of the potential adversary—in this case
Pakistan—during limited war.
4. And to be in a position to assist island republics of the Indian Ocean—
notably Mauritius, the Seychelles, Sri Lanka—in case they seek Indian
assistance, particularly against threats of subversion. The Sri Lankan
intervention beginning in 1987 illustrates this mission, and the Sey-
chelles has been subjected to two coup attempts since 1982.
Focusing on anti-submarine operations, India has modernized its exist-
ing aircraft carrier, the Vikrant, and has acquired a second aircraft carrier
(Hermes, renamed Virant) from Britain. These ships will carry anti-subma-
rine helicopters and provide air cover with British VTOL Harriers for anti-
submarine task forces. Two aircraft carriers are necessary at this stage-—first,
to ensure that at least one will be available at all times and, second, because
India's two seaboards, extending over 7500 miles, make it necessary to have
two task forces built around carriers. In fact, for optimum coverage a much
larger number will be needed. The Indian plan is to build air-capable ships
in the country in the future, and the present purchase of a second aircraft
carrier is only an interim step.
The second component in augmenting anti-submarine warfare capability
is to acquire modern submarines. The German-designed, HDW type-1500
submarines are being constructed in India and two are being acquired from
Germany. India has also acquired the first Kilo-class Soviet submarine as
the first step in progressively replacing its eight older, F-class Soviet sub-
marines. It is likely that three to six Kilo-class submarines may be acquired.
India is attempting to develop a nuclear-propelled submarine and leased one

from the U.S.S.R. in 1988.
The third component of an anti-submarine capability is the versatile, all-
purpose frigate. Having started with the licensed production of the British-
designed Leander-class frigate (of which six were built in India), the next
logical step was to move to the indigenously designed Godavari-class missile
frigate. Two of this class have been commissioned and one more is being
built. A new, improved category of missile frigate is now under design and
the keel of the first such vessel is expected to be laid next year. Altogether,
India has 24 frigates of mixed size and origin. Indigenous efforts are being
supplemented by the acquisition of three Kashin II-class missile destroyers
from the Soviet Union, and three additional improved Kashin-class destroyers
are to join the Indian navy. The first arrived in late 1986. Supplementing
these will be a line of corvettes that are also being built in India in accord-
ance with a design purchased from France.
The fourth component is India's maritime air reconnaissance and strike
capabilities, which are based on long-term maritime reconnaissance and strike
aircraft and helicopters. At present, India has two Soviet IL-38 maritime
reconnaissance squadrons. These are becoming obsolete and may be replaced
by the Soviet SU-12. The helicopters are the British Sea Kings. The coast
guard air patrol has been standardized with the German Dornier aircraft,
which is being produced in India under license.
The Indian naval buildup is planned to be increasingly based on indigen-
ous design and construction. Indian naval construction has been diversified to
include missile frigates, type-1500 submarines, and corvettes. Future air-
capable ships and naval missiles are proposed to be designed in India. In-
dia has been eclectic in its acquisition of technology and has incorporated
Soviet, British, German, Dutch, and French technologies in its indigenous
construction. In addition, an agreement has been concluded to produce Gen-
eral Electric LM-2500 marine-adapted gas-turbine engines in India, and
various other technologies are on request from the United States.
Neither the size of the Indian navy nor its composition as it can be vis-
ualized in the foreseeable future will come anywhere near the extra-regional
naval capabilities deployed in the Indian Ocean or India's optimal require-
ments in terms of its obligations arising out of its island territories, its vast
coastline, its increasing off-shore petroleum and seabed mining assets and
overseas trade, already totaling more than $20 billion annually, as well as
its broader threat perceptions. The Indian navy has had a low priority in
resource allocation among the three defense services. In the 1960s, it de-
clined to as low as 4 percent of the defense budget. Since the late 1960s,
however, efforts have been made to increase this allocation steadily, and it
reached 13.2 percent of the 1986-87 defense budget. There is consciousness
among defense planners in India that this has to be steadily stepped up to
20 percent over the next 10-15 years if the modest tasks envisaged for the
navy are to be effectively managed. But the modernization programs of the
other two services present very severe competition. While I am not aware
of the naval staff's projection of future force levels, I would guess that by
1995 it could involve a frigate force twice as powerful as the present one
and a submarine strength, as noted, of at least 12 fleet boats.
Though the naval threat to India is not wholly attributable to the pres-
ence of extra-regional navies in the Indian Ocean, as has been spelled out
earlier, they do have a complicating effect on the task of the Indian navy;
and the superpower rivalry does lead to the inflow of equipment to potential
adversaries of India, such as Pakistan. The transfer of the Harpoon missile
and refurbished Gearing-class destroyers has been justified on the basis of
the role Pakistan is expected to play as part of the U.S. strategic consensus
in the area. Hence the Indian interest in ensuring the Indian Ocean as a Zone
of Peace in addition to its broader political objective of insulating the area
from a superpower confrontation.
A standard principle that guides naval doctrine is the concentration of
force, that is, launching attacks with overwhelming forces at the outset of
hostilities. This principle was used during India's 1971 operations against
Karachi and, when combined with surprise, achieved signal success. When
dealing with superpowers, the Indian navy would quite rightly adopt dif-
ferent tactics—tactics that will perhaps persuade the superpower to leave
well enough alone for two very good reasons.
One reason is the Indian navy's demonstrable capability to inflict unac-
ceptable damage if the superpower pursued a course of action considered by
India to be inimical to its interests. Another is that the other superpower
would in all probability intervene on India's side and thus raise the stakes.
This presupposes that the political leadership in New Delhi will prove itself
adept at keeping the two superpowers equally interested and committed to
India's interests and accept India's primacy in the sub-continental context.
There is unlikely to be a consensus between the superpowers on India's
approach to the problems of the Indian Ocean waterspread and related mat-
ters. Thus, the Indian naval leadership must clearly explain to Indian po-
litical leaders what India's current naval capabilities are and how far they
can be stretched in pursuit of Indian aims. The naval leadership will surely
have learnt a lesson from the totally unprofessional manner in which the
army leadership submitted to a manifestly uninformed political decision in
1962 in the Himalayas.
This brings me logically to the command and control of naval opera-
tions in India's sea areas. Any future naval operation will most likely be
a joint operation with the air force or the army (amphibious) or one with
all three services involved. The navy is unlikely to go it alone, except in
small local operations involving mine countermeasures or harbor defense
patrols. Although we do have a system of joint services consultations and
planning, such joint methods of working have yet to become thoroughly ac-
cepted practice.
The imperatives of naval operations make it urgent for India to formu-
late an effective joint services doctrine, install machinery in New Delhi to
direct the doctrine, and constitute joint operational commands to implement

it. Given the geographical advantages with which peninsular India is en-
dowed and its essentially maritime character, I would make a bold sugges-
tion for the constitution of a Peninsular Command, encompassing the three
naval commands, the present Southern Command of the Army, not including
Rajasthan, and the Southern Air Command. The Joint Forces Commander-
in-Chief (CinC Peninsular Command, or COMSULAR) would have the two
Naval Commanders (East and West) and the two Fleet Commanders (East
and West), the Army Commander in Pune, and the Air Force Commanders
in Bangalore and Trivandrum under him. The COMSULAR would ro-
tate among the three services and would be responsible to the Chiefs of
Staff in New Delhi for the planning and conduct of all operations in his
command in accordance with national directives. He would be responsible
for all maritime operations in the Indian Ocean area.
With respect to the crucial issue of an amphibious or marine force, while
the navy has been crying for the establishment of such a force, the army
response has been tardy. The army attitude is that any line battalion with
a crash course in dry and wet shod training is capable of carrying out ma-
rine operations. Such a view stems from an overall lack of exposure to a
maritime environment. Moreover, even army officers who see the need have
expressed reservations in private on the management of such a force. Should
it be under army or naval control? This is the same question put forth by
India's air force regarding the employment of attack helicopters.
The importance of an amphibious capability was demonstrated in the
Falklands campaign, as was the need for integrated air cover for a fleet in
distant operations. It is only when such unresolved issues are effectively ad-
dressed that India's naval potential will be fully realized. But much has been
accomplished.
Other Powers
France
Like other great powers, France also has maintained its capability to inter-
vene militarily in the Indian Ocean. During the sub-continental war in 1971,
France dispatched a naval unit of five warships with a marine unit to regis-
ter its presence. Throughout the 1970s it maintained a significant presence
of 15 naval units, claiming a traditional mission and a need to protect its
territorial possessions.142 It continued its flag-showing mission from the Gulf
and the Red Sea down the east coast of Africa as far as the more distant
French possessions in the southern Indian Ocean and the Antarctic.
Since the independence of the Comoros and Djibouti and the termina-
tion of agreements covering use of military facilities in Malagasy, La Reunion
has emerged as France's single most important remaining possession, and
the headquarters of the French Indian Ocean forces were transferred there
after Djibouti became independent. But several units of the French Indian
Ocean fleet still regularly use Djibouti's dock facilities.143 Other possessions
include Mayotte, the disputed island belonging to the Comoros group. On
Mayotte are located airfields that would play a key role in the surveillance of
the Mozambique channel and in complementing France's network of outposts
and landing facilities.144 Aircraft can refuel on the island.
In 1981, the French Indian Ocean presence in the strategic triangle be-
tween Djibouti, La Reunion, and Mayotte (including the Mozambique chan-
nel) consisted of some 20 vessels, the most important of these being a
guided-missile frigate (the Duquesne), five other frigates, and five mine-
sweepers. When fighting broke out between Iran and Iraq, several additional
naval units, including the Suffren, France's most modern guided-missile de-
stroyer, were sent to the area, where they were involved in "increased tech-
nical consultations" with other naval formations from the West (the United
States, Great Britain, and Australia).145
France is building an RDF, the Force d'Action Rapid, of 47,000 men
that will be considerably better equipped than its present force and will be
organized for independent employment. It includes an air mobile division,
a light infantry division, a parachute division, a marine infantry division, an
Alpine division, and a logistics brigade.146
Great Britain
When Britain redefined its strategic frontiers in the 1960s, it withdrew nearly
80,000 troops it had maintained east of Suez. Before withdrawal, it estab-
lished a defense cooperation agreement with the United Arab Emirates and
a five-power defense pact with Malaysia, Singapore, Australia, and New Zea-
land. Britain also set up the BIOT with a clear intention to assist its allies
in the Indian Ocean. In 1975, Great Britain also gave up its defense coopera-
tion with South Africa along with the use of the Simonstown naval base.
Britain took part in the annual CENTO Midlink naval maneuvers in the
Gulf region along with the United States until 1977. These maneuvers were
resumed in the autumn of 1980 after the outbreak of hostilities between Iran
and Iraq. CENTO had ceased to exist by then. Meanwhile, British access to
both the Bahrain naval base and the Masirah air base was handed over to
the United States. Britain maintains a token presence on Diego Garcia and
was a party to its expansion.
At the beginning of 1980, there were British officers assigned to most of
the Gulf states. The highest number (around 140) was in Oman, and there
were about as many more directly commissioned by Oman. A total of 311
British instructors, most of them officers on assignment, were in Kuwait, Bah-
rain, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Oman, and UAE.147
A British RDF of 5000 men became operational in 1985.148 The then
British Foreign Secretary, Lord Carrington, stated that his government was
ready to use armed force in support of the U.S. troops in the Gulf and else-
where.149
West Germany
For the first time, the Federal Republic of Germany sent a naval unit (two
destroyers, a tanker, and a supply ship) to the Indian Ocean in 1980, calling
at several ports (Pakistan, India, Sri Lanka, and Kenya, as well as Diego
Garcia). Bonn does not have any possessions in the region and its dependence
on oil from the Gulf comprises approximately 40 percent of its total im-
ports. It is therefore significant to note that the Federal Republic considers
Soviet influence in the vicinity of the Gulf to be a potential threat, and it is
not possible to rule out a German "military contribution" within the frame-
work of an expanded commitment to intervene on the part of NATO.150
China
Though not a littoral country, China has shown interest in the littoral states'
naval capabilities through active defense cooperation. Thus, it has supplied
missile boats to Sri Lanka, Tanzania, Egypt, Pakistan, and Bangladesh, and
submarines to Egypt. Submarine deals with Bangladesh and Thailand have
also been reported. It has a policy of friendly relations and active coopera-
tion with countries like Sri Lanka and Maldives. Beijing's most substantial
aid program has been in Pakistan, which can offer access to the Indian
Ocean via the Karakoram Highway.151
China's present capabilities do not allow a naval power projection into
the Indian Ocean. But it might develop a strategic interest through the fu-
ture deployment in the Arabian Sea and the Bay of Bengal, of submarine-
launched ballistic missiles directed at Soviet targets.
Japan
Japanese security stakes in the Indian Ocean are obviously the oil routes and
shipping lanes. But it cannot safeguard these interests by itself and therefore
depends on U.S. capabilities in the region. In return, Japan seems to be pre-
paring for a significant naval expansion, under American pressure, so that
it can assume some of the U.S. navy's Pacific responsibilities. Indirectly,
therefore, increased Japanese naval power will have an impact on the naval
balance in the Indian Ocean. But a direct Japanese presence is only a remote
possibility at this time.
Indonesia
The Indonesian navy is halfway through a two-year modernization plan for
revamping its numerically strong yet largely obsolete navy of ships of Soviet
origin obtained in the 1950s and 1960s. Major equipment such as frigates,
fast attack craft, and maritime patrol aircraft are being procured from West
European countries and from the United States. A fut
from now, to undertake limited and independent naval operations in the area
of the Bay of Bengal is a distinct possibility.
Pakistan
Since the renewal of the U.S.-Pakistan military relationship, as noted earlier,
there has been an emphasis on naval modernization. Pakistan has acquired
Gearing-class destroyers and anti-ship missiles from the United States and
missile boats from China. The transfers of U.S. naval equipment to Pakistan
have been justified before the American Congress on the grounds that the
United States envisages a role for the Pakistan navy in the Persian Gulf/In-
dian Ocean region. Recently there have been reports of Pakistani interest in
Britain's Type-2 frigates, both for outright purchase and for construction in
a Karachi dockyard.
The Persian Gulf

Despite a considerable scaling down of the ambitious naval plans of the
Shah, Iran is still the dominant naval power in the Gulf. However, its role
beyond the Gulf is doubtful in the immediate future, and even within the
Gulf Iran is presently overshadowed by the U.S. presence.
Saudi Arabia is building a navy from scratch. Although in time it might
develop into a force in the Gulf, it is unlikely to play a significant role out-
side the Gulf and the Red Sea. However, Saudi naval development plans give
added momentum to U.S. naval plans in the region, since both are to a great
extent linked.
South Africa and Australia

In the southern Indian Ocean, the South African navy is unchallenged and
could play an increasingly crucial role in the event of turbulence in southern
Africa and the adjoining islands. Though the West has formally ended its
defense cooperation with South Africa since the British withdrawal from
Simonstown, both the Simonstown and the Durban naval bases would be
available for Western navies in any future contingencies, such as the closure
of the Suez.
On the other side of the southern Indian Ocean, the Royal Australian
Navy is equally unchallenged. At the time of writing, the navy is going
through a minor upheaval in the wake of the government's decision to scrap
its only aircraft carrier, the Melbourne, without replacement. The navy is
contesting this decision. The air force, however, is more than happy to re-
ceive the funds thus released to fund its expansion program. It is planning
to introduce 40 F-18s and some additional Orions for long-range maritime
work and it has assured air cover to the navy "within the Australia Moat."
For oceanic operations, the Australian air force at least is of the view
that the navy should operate as part of a U.S. naval task group. Whatever the
inter-service arguments over the Indian Ocean and the nature of the threat
to Australia from the sea, it is apparent that in any general war situation
Australia would be firmly on the side of the United States. The combined
power of Australia, New Zealand, and the United States is more than ade-
quate to meet any Soviet challenge to the West's sea lines of communica-
tion in the southern Indian Ocean, between Australia and the East Indies.
The very substantial contribution of Australia to the United States in the
provision of bases and facilities has already been discussed.
Moscow, Washington, and Indian Ocean Arms Control
Undoubtedly it is the United States that has set the pace of the cold war
in the Indian Ocean/Persian Gulf region and would have to initiate any
movement toward detente. While nominally conceding strategic parity to the
Soviet Union, the overriding preoccupation of U.S. security policy appears
to be keeping Americans far ahead of the Soviets in terms of global capa-
bilities. Obviously, the U.S. military has appropriated to itself considerable
resources to deal with what official U.S. jargon describes as the "non-Soviet
threats"; yet there is need to depict in public the overall buildup solely as
directed against the Soviet threat. The U.S. Secretary of Defense Caspar
Weinberger made this clear in his Annual Report to the Congress for FY
1983:
We recognize that several important foreign policy and military prob-
lems are not the result of any Soviet initiative. But this recognition must
not divert us from the fact that it is the Soviet military effort, its direction
and its nature, that drives our defense budget. When it comes to planning
our military forces and defense strategy, it is clear that Soviet capabili-
ties—present and potential—must be the dominant consideration.152
Thus, the dominant consideration of the American strategic planners in

the Indian Ocean is the Soviet challenge, if not from its navy, then from the
Soviet landmass. In the fall of 1980, when the Western naval presence
reached a peak, it was in response not to any Soviet moves but to a re-
gional event, the Iran-Iraq war. A new argument was then advanced, that the
Western naval presence in the Indian Ocean was necessary to confront Soviet
power based on the Eurasian continental mass. In other words, the early
twentieth-century geostrategic doctrines of Mackinder were being revived
to justify the emerging Western naval strategy: the Eurasian power is to be
hemmed in from all sides—across the Arctic ice cap, from the West, from
China, Japan, the Pacific, and from the Indian Ocean.153 To outsiders this
looks like a revival of the Dullesian doctrine of containment.
Furthermore, in the superpower nuclear strategy, the indivisibility of the
ocean is a fundamental principle. Neither the United States nor the Soviet
Union is—in contrast to the situation in the Atlantic and Pacific—an Indian
Ocean power from the territorial point of view. Rather, the Indian Ocean is
viewed as a potential offensive field for the Americans and a defensive one for
the Soviets.154 The U.S. Navy League magazine Sea Power acknowledged in
early 1974 that the communication station at North West Cape was sending
"classified messages to Polaris/Poseidons" while the units are deployed in
the Indian Ocean,155 hinting at the possibility that this offensive potential at
least has been confirmed by actual, perhaps trial, deployment. Countering the
threat of strikes from the sea, therefore, becomes an important mission of
the Soviet forces, and of the navy in particular, although there is some argu-
ment as to the priority now accorded this mission.156
Besides strategic containment, the U.S. military moves into the region
appear to upset major Soviet stakes. While the Indian Ocean region as a
whole serves as an area of competition among the Soviet Union, China, and
the United States for world influence, its northern part is particularly im-
portant in terms of Sino-Soviet rivalry, with the Kremlin concerned to physi-
cally counter Chinese expansion while protecting itself from being outflanked
to the south.157 The Soviet stake in the Indian Ocean as a waterway is enor-
mous. In peacetime, its Asian provinces are supplied by rail, but in the event
of war with China, the Trans-Siberian railway could be cut and military sup-
plies to the far eastern front would have to be moved by sea. If possible,
these would pass via the Suez Canal. But if that were closed, they could
transit overland to the Persian Gulf or the Arabian sea.158 However, the So-
viet Union is much more at the mercy of the littoral countries, both for ac-
cess to the ocean from the Mediterranean and the Pacific and for onshore
facilities. Its position is therefore much more vulnerable than that of its su-
perpower rival.159
The irony of the Soviet threat has largely been that its nature, dimensions,
and consequences have often been perceived and propagated by the Western
strategic community in terms that constitute self-fulfilling prophecies. In May
1976, former U.S. Ambassador to Saudi Arabia James E. Akins testified in
the Senate that in early April 1975, in response to reports of Soviet activi-
ties in Berbera, Saudi Arabia offered to pay the necessary aid to Somalia for
a Washington effort to reduce Soviet influence there. Akins told the Senate
that Saudi Arabia was prepared to offer the same amount of economic aid
that the Soviets were offering to Somalia and also offered to pay for arms
sales by Washington to Somalia, in an effort to reduce Somalian dependence
on the Soviets.160
However, in the face of opposition from the Department of Defense,
which was relying heavily on the alleged Soviet buildup in Berbera to facili-
tate congressional passage of its Diego Garcia expansion plan, the Depart-
ment of State did not respond to the Saudi offer. The administration's refusal
to accept the Saudi offer was seen by many as indicating that the United
States was not serious about reducing Soviet inroads in the area, since such
an attempt might make an expanded Diego Garcia facility appear not abso-
lutely essential.161 In a crude sense, therefore, the United States has been pro-
voking the Soviets so that each of their responses to U.S. provocations would
reinforce the rationales for further militarization of the Indian Ocean. When
the Saudis finally won over the Somalis, the Soviet response was to switch
their support to Ethiopia.
An American Enterprise Institute study pointed out that even an im-
mensely greater Western deployment would not have discouraged a Soviet
presence and, in fact, the strengthening of Western forces might actually have
encouraged Moscow to deploy more units and to acquire the use of facilities
from some littoral states. The largest number of Soviet ships appeared in the
Indian Ocean after the arrival of U.S. carrier forces. The Soviets introduced
an ASW capability in anticipation of SLBM deployments by the United
States. The study also observed that, politically and psychologically, the
Soviet Union earned undeniable dividends from U.S. actions, at least partly
because of the high visibility of U.S. carrier task forces and the Diego Garcia
base.162
While there is a real element of risk that direct conflict may result from
the rival military thrusts into the Indian Ocean, no less worrisome for the lit-
toral states is the prospect of application of the superpower interventionary
capabilities against them. Whereas in a nuclear age a superpower need not
have a large fleet and bases all over the world to be insulated from military
challenges,163 it has been forcefully argued that such an approach ignored the
political benefits that can accrue to a country with the capability of employ-
ing its naval forces in support of its foreign policy.164
However, the reemergence of the old-style bipolar confrontation has
added a new element of uncertainty into the traditional exercise of armed
suasion. If either superpower were to exploit the opportunity offered by de-
polarization to apply coercive pressures on the small powers of the Third
World, it may discover that this would suffice to destroy the very setting that
made the move possible in the first place.165 Therefore, as Professor Edward
Luttwak points out, in many ways the risks of the former bipolar world, with
its clear lines of demarcation, were "both less insidious and more manage-
able," since a direct confrontation in the old style was at least simpler to
control than the "systemic disruption" that may now result if the superpow-
ers act to defend their interests.166 And they appear to be determined.
To forestall domestic criticisms, President Carter declared, when announc-
ing the RDF decision in December 1979: "We must understand that not
every instance of the firm application of power is a potential Vietnam."167
To allay Third World fears, then Secretary of Defense Harold Brown stated
in his FY 1981 defense posture report:
None of this [RDF plans], however, should be taken to suggest a U.S. in-
tention to threaten the sovereignty of any country or to intervene where
we are not wanted. Rather, mobile, well equipped and trained conventional
forces are essential to assist allies and other friends should conditions so
dictate and should our assistance be needed.168
However, no intervention has ever been in violation of "sovereignty,"

whatever the technicalities of the term might imply, or unwanted in the cal-
culations of the intervening state. Besides, force can always be applied with-
out its actual use and bring about the desired outcome.
Admiral Gorshkov has recognized with professional admiration the ca-
pabilities of the U.S. navy in the fighting of limited wars. Restricted capabil-
ity, lack of experience, and the Soviet calculus of interests might suggest that
Soviet leaders will not use their navy as the vehicle for large-scale interven-
tion. However, now that the Soviet Union has at least an "embryonic inter-
vention capability," it may become involved in supporting local clients in
coups and in protecting pro-Soviet governments.169 Should the Soviet squad-
ron in the Indian Ocean participate in some action, it is more likely that such
a move would be carried out in support of a "national liberation movement"
or in support of one of the friendly littoral powers in order to protect it
against foreign aggression. This is a possibility that cannot be totally ex-
cluded, but it might take place only when essential Soviet interests were at
stake, and then only when Moscow could be certain that no American coun-
teraction was to be expected. Probably, any such initiative will remain a "na-
val demonstration" only, a part of "gunboat diplomacy," which belongs to
the area of political, rather than strictly military, use of the navy.170
While the competitive naval presence of the superpowers in the Indian
Ocean has not so far proved to be the best means of influencing the course of
events in the regions of the Indian Ocean littoral, nonetheless this presence
has added to the general atmosphere of insecurity and anxiety in the area.171
Many American ships were present in the Indian Ocean in February and
March 1979, but they could not save the Shah's regime. Their presence would
not have overawed the Shah's opponents, and if they had intervened with
force to prop up the Shah, it is doubtful whether they would have been suc-
cessful. Twenty thousand Cuban soldiers have had a far greater effect on the
complexion of African regimes than all the Soviet and American naval ships
in the Indian Ocean put together.172 These facts, however, are very much in
the calculations behind the present preparations, which are meant to prevent
further such occurrences. In preparing an RDF for physical intervention in
Third World situations, the United States may have such calculations in mind.
Meanwhile, forward deployments, particularly of naval units, pose other
grave consequences. In recent years, ship movements of the Sixth and Seventh
Fleets in crisis situations have been first ordered on the initiatives of local
commanders.173 Some of the dangers of forward deployment were seen in the
attack on the Liberty in June 1967. With a different set of personalities, the
escalatory potential would have been awesome, for, as then Secretary of De-
fense McNamara subsequently said: "I thought the Liberty had been attacked
by Soviet forces. Thank goodness, our carrier commanders did not launch
immediately against the Soviet forces who were operating in the Mediterra-
nean at that time."174 Even the handling of the Cuban missile crisis, that sup-
posedly model example of clinical crisis management, showed some of the
tensions that can arise between political leaders primarily concerned with the
"wider issues" and images and naval commanders on the spot directly con-
cerned with their men and ships and their reputations for operational suc-
cess.175
The Soviet navy is a powerful force in absolute terms, though it does not
match the U.S. navy's greatly superior capability to operate in distant waters.
The major danger is that at a time when Third World conflicts are on the in-
crease, a greater Soviet naval strength creates a higher risk of clashes, acci-
dental or deliberate, arising out of the superpowers' pursuit of their respec-
tive interests.176 Such a danger is greater in the Indian Ocean because of its
inherent instabilities and rivalries. As relatively new naval powers, the Soviets
and Americans are still learning the limitations that such regional disputes
place on their freedom of action.177 The possibility, therefore, arises that for-
ward deployment might be manipulated by local powers for their own politi-
cal survival purposes, resulting in the power concerned being dragged into
local conflicts. Before the superpowers moved into the Indian Ocean, it was
relatively easier for them to stay out of local quarrels. However, with naval
units just on or over the horizon, the pressure for some intervention in local
disputes will be greater, from local associates, and also because "weapons
shape the will to use them." Thus, forward deployment does increase the
possibility of involvement and risk of escalation.178
For instance, to the extent that two of the U.S. facilities agreements are
with long-standing adversaries that have a festering border dispute, such as
Somalia's claims to Kenyan territory, the United States is in a precarious po-
sition. Any serious crisis between the two countries, especially action involv-
ing the use of American arms supplied under the agreement, could result in
the abrogation of agreements with the United States and, ultimately, a "seri-
ous undermining of the U.S. ability to fulfill primary U.S. objectives in the
Persian Gulf,"179 not unlike what happened to the Soviets in Somalia in 1977.
The American involvement in the military modernization process in the
region has important implications for the United States as well as for the
states of the Persian Gulf and Red Sea areas. For Washington, the participa-
tion in military affairs in the Gulf has political and economic underpinnings
and strategic and security implications, both globally and regionally. For the
Persian Gulf states, these military modernization programs have—in addition
to their security implications for the entire area and for each state—"broad
social, economic and political effects" on each state.180 The dimensions of
these programs are truly staggering. In 1977, a congressional staff study re-
ported that if Saudi Arabia were to stop receiving military equipment, it
would have still taken six years for its personnel to be trained in all aspects
of equipment already bought, resulting in the need for continuing outside
support.181 Similar factors operated in other Gulf areas that have received
further massive doses of military supplies since 1977.
Controlled and measured military sales as well as technical and logistical
training and support to friendly governments could help U.S. policy goals in
the region. However, the Iranian experience indicates the serious potential
pitfalls in using military sales and/or aid as an instrument of policy.182 In
fact, U.S. experience by and large has been a trifle unhappy in the area of
military assistance to "friendly" countries.
Given the situation in the area and its importance to the United States
and its allies, implementation of the "containment" strategy to its fullest ex-
tent might require increased U.S. naval deployment and coverage of the
area's vital sea lanes by whatever means available. On the other hand, if
the United States chose to pursue the "regional partnership" strategy, it
would logically make a concerted effort to assist the local states in strength-
ening their own capacity to resolve disputes in a peaceful manner and to en-
hance their ability to guarantee that the vital oil transshipment routes in the
area would be kept open, instead of emphasizing a major military buildup in
the region to ensure that they remain open.183
The Indian Ocean has a "limited military importance" to the United
States. It does not figure directly in the American forward defense in the
way the Atlantic and Pacific oceans do. Nor does seapower deployed in the
Indian Ocean have much effect on the events in the littoral states, most of
whose vital interests are primarily influenced by adjacent littoral or hinter-
land states. Moreover, the growth of naval power of important littoral states
such as Iran and India and the substantial naval force of South Africa,
France, Australia, and, potentially, Indonesia greatly reduces the feasibility
of the control of the area by a single outside power,184 as happened during
the days of the British Empire.
The increasing capabilities of the Soviet navy also place limits on the
potential role of the United States for intervention in the region. Previous
events have clearly shown that each surge of U.S. military power into the
Indian Ocean has been matched by a temporary surge of Soviet forces and
a longer-term Soviet naval presence, albeit on a lower scale. With a navy that
is still declining in number of ships, the United States, in the opinion of
many military authorities, is ill-equipped to engage in a naval arms race in
the region with the Soviet Union.185 Given the long distances and the long
supply lines for ships in the Indian Ocean, both Washington and Moscow
could find advantages in agreeing to a naval limitation in the area. A Rand
Corporation paper, while advocating a naval limitation, views an oil em-
bargo as the first link in a chain of circumstances "whose final end is hidden
in obscurity" and therefore argues in support of the facility on Diego Garcia,
which dominates the oil routes, as a deterrent for "those who visualize hasty
action" in the area.186
The crucial consideration for the United States and its European and
Japanese allies is that the most important nations in the Indian Ocean re-
gion are naturally inclined toward a fairly close integration with the Western
economic system. The markets of industrialized countries, Western technol-
ogy, and capital are crucial to the developing countries of the region.187 In
the Indian Ocean region, therefore, the United States has only a limited need
of seapower to influence the desired economic and political orientation of
littoral states. These capabilities are not necessarily required in the region on
a permanent basis.188
For all these reasons, it would appear that the "wisest U.S. policy in
the Indian Ocean would be to negotiate an arms limitation agreement," or
"an agreement to disengage gradually." If the superpowers cannot agree on
zero deployment of combatants, they might agree to limit the number to per-
haps "six to eight" and "prohibit aircraft carriers and nuclear ballistic missile
submarines."189 The conclusion of an arms limitation agreement could reduce
the cost to the United States of expanding Diego Garcia and other Indian
Ocean-related military costs and reap "political dividends" from the littoral
states by promoting a "joint zone of peace or a policy of limited presence."
The Soviets have already limited their naval presence to facilities and anchor-
ages of low visibility. An agreement would also provide a "good barometer
of Soviet intentions" in regard to their intentions in the Indian Ocean re-
gion.190
While the cold war and the global arms race are anathema to the concept
of non-alignment to which almost all states of the Indian Ocean are com-
mitted, the realities of the situation demand that the search for an identity of
interests need not be concentrated solely on the "peace zone" idea, which en-
visages total elimination of all military presence conceived in the context of
super-power rivalry. Alternatives contributing to reducing the militarization
of the ocean could be examined. As an American Enterprise Institute study
points out:
Much has been said about the crucial geographic position of the Indian
Ocean. Some have contended that the region is destined to be a chess-
board for superpower rivalry, but, just because the chessmen are poised,
the game need not be played. Others have argued that the dominant naval
power in the region will be able to influence the policies of the littoral
states, but there is no necessity for an outside naval power to dominate
any region.191
The U.S.-Soviet talks between June 1977 and February 1978, according
to Soviet sources, "showed some promise of success: there emerged the idea
to agree, at the first stage, to 'freeze' the armed forces in the Indian Ocean
at their present level, and then to go on to scale down military presence in
the region." Among the early results of the consultations were "the start of
discussion on the text of the future agreement" by working groups of ex-
perts.192 The successful beginning of the consultations was also reported in
official communications of the two sides to the Chairman of the U.N. Ad
Hoc Committee on the Indian Ocean.193 It soon emerged that the United
States and the Soviet Union did in fact acknowledge each other's strategic
interests in the Indian Ocean and that in the event of a reduction of military
forces, Diego Garcia's role, at least as a center for surveillance, would be re-
tained.194
The reasons for the unilateral American withdrawal from the talks are
claimed to be related to the events in Ethiopia. In fact, they lay elsewhere.
Partly, it was due to a "rapid deterioration" in the general global climate
for negotiations between the superpowers dating from the end of 1977.195
But more crucial perhaps was the Pentagon's stand on any arms limitations
in the Indian Ocean. The U.S. navy's view was crudely and typically reflected
in former Chief of Naval Staff Admiral Zumwalt's description of the Zone
of Peace as a "very dangerous idea."196 As became known later, even before
the first round of talks began, the Joint Chiefs of Staff had declared its ob-
jections to any agreements on limiting military activity in the Indian Ocean.
However, when the negotiations did start, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs,
in a special memorandum of August 9, 1977, expressed his disagreement with
the essence of the proposals being considered by the two sides. When signs
of progress appeared at the negotiations, he issued a new statement, on Janu-
ary 30, 1978 (just before the start of the fourth round), recommending that
the White House suspend the negotiations, a recommendation ultimately ac-
cepted.197
To the superpowers themselves, arms control in the Indian Ocean is
secondary to the global arms control dialogue. But to the littoral states, the
growing tensions in the Indian Ocean underline the urgency of a regionally
focused superpower dialogue that could set the stage for a larger accommo-
dation.
Notes
1. Manoranjan Bezboruah, U.S. Strategy in the Indian Ocean: The Inter-

national Response (New York: Praeger, 1977), p. 35.
2. Ibid.
3. Ibid.
4. Ibid.
5. Ibid.
6. Ibid.
7. Ibid.
8. Ibid., p. 36.
9. R. D. Heinl Jr., "American Defense Policy and Strategy for the 1970s,"
Brassey's Annual, 1972, p. 34.
10. Bezboruah, op. cit, p. 52.
11. United States Foreign Policy Objectives and Overseas Military Installa-
tions, Committee on Foreign Relations, 96th Congress, 1st Session, 1979, p. 88.
12. Alvin J. Cottrel and Thomas H. Moorer, U.S. Overseas Bases: Problems
of Projecting American Military Power Abroad (London: Sage Publications,
1977), p. 35.
13. I. Redko et al., The Indian Ocean: A Sphere of Tension or a Zone of Peace
(Moscow, Nauka Publishing House, 1983), p. 30.
14. Ibid.
tions, op. cit., p. 88.
16. U.S. Military Posture, FY 1984, Organization of the Joint Chiefs of Staff,
p. 3.
17. U.S. Military Posture, FY 1982, pp. 11-13.
18. U.S. Military Posture, FY 1984, p. 25.
19. Redko et al., op. cit, p. 27.

20. Ibid.
21. Ibid.
22. Ibid., p. 28.
23. Ibid.
24. Ibid.
25. Ibid., p. 29.
26. Dieter Braun, The Indian Ocean: Region of Conflict or Zone of Peace?
(London, C. Hurst, 1983), p. 41.
27. Redko et al., op. cit., p. 29.
28. Ibid., p. 56.
29. Ibid., pp. 29-30.
30. U.S. Security Interests in the Persian Gulf. Report of a Staff Study Mission,
97th Congress, 1st Session, 1981, p. 1.
31. U.S. Military Posture, FY 1984, pp. 56-57.
32. Ibid., p. 56.
34. Testimony by Walter Slocombe, Deputy Under-Secretary for Policy Plan-
ning, Department of Defense, in U.S. Security Interests and Policies in South
West Asia, Hearings Before the Committee on Foreign Relations, 96th Congress,
2nd Session, 1980, p. 306.
35. D. A. Quinlan, "The Marine Corps as a Rapid Deployment Force," Marine
Corps Gazette, March 1980, pp. 38-39; quoted in Redko et al., op. cit., p. 26.
36. D. A. Quinlan, The Role of the Marine Corps in Rapid Deployment
Forces (Washington, 1983), pp. 1-2.
37. Ibid.
38. James P. Wootten, "Rapid Deployment Force," Issue Brief No. 80027,
updated 16.7.84, Congressional Research Service, Washington (Mimeo), p. 1.
39. For a discussion on force planning and ship building in this context, see
testimony of Adm. Thomas B. Hayward, Chief of U.S. Naval Operations, in
National Policy Objectives and the Adequacy of Our Current Naval Forces, Hear-
ings Before the Committee on Armed Services, House of Representatives, 96th
Congress, 2nd Session, 1979, pp. 101-137.
40. Department of State Bulletin, 1980, No. 2035, Vol. 80, Spl., p. 1.
41. Wootten, op. cit., p. 6.
42. Ibid., p. 1.
43. Quinlan (1983), op. cit, p. 14.
44. Ibid., p. 3.
45. Ibid., p. 7.
46. James P. Wootten, op. cit., p. 8.
47. Defense Sealift Capability, U.S. Congress, Hearings, 1981, pp. 5-6.
48. Quinlan (1983), op. cit., p. 18.
49. Ibid.
51. Ibid., p. 3.
52. Ibid.
53. Ibid., p. 4.
54. Ibid.
55. Bezboruah, op. cit., p. 53.
56. Ibid., p. 110.
57. New York Times, June 18, 1973; quoted in ibid., p. 68.
59. Senate Committee, quoted in ibid., pp. 69-70.
60. Braun, op. cit., pp. 40-41.
62. Ibid., p. 93.
63. Tom Farer, War Clouds on the Horn of Africa: A Crisis for Detente
(New York: Carnegie Endownment for International Peace, 1976), quoted in
Cottrel and Moorer, op. cit., p. 33.
64. Cottrel and Moorer, op. cit., p. 33.
66. Ibid., p. 84.
67. U.N. Secretary-General's Report, a/Ac. 159/1, p. 12.
68. Quoted in P. K. S. Namboodiri, J. P. Anand and Sreedhar, Intervention
in the Indian Ocean (Delhi, 1982), p. 172.
70. Quoted in Namboodiri et al., op. cit., p. 34.
71. Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger's Annual Report to the Congress.
1984.
72. Namboodiri et al., op. cit., p. 195.
73. Braun, op. cit., p. 42.
75. Dieter Braun, op. cit., p. 43.
76. Testimony by Walter Slocombe, op. cit., p. 307.
77. U.S. Security Interests in the Persian Gulf, op. cit., pp. 43-44.
78. Ibid., p. 19.
80. Ibid., p. 74.
82. U.S. Security Interests in the Persian Gulf, op. cit., pp. 50—51.
83. Braun, op. cit., p. 121.
84. Ibid.
85. Ibid.
86. Defense Week (Washington), August 27, 1984, p. 10.
89. Ibid.
90. Statesman (New Delhi), May 23, 1984.
91. Statement by Vice Admiral M. S. Holcomb in National Policy Objectives
and the Adequacy of Our Current Naval Forces, op. cit., p. 75.
92. Ibid.
93. Proposed Expansion of U.S. Military Facilities in the Indian Ocean, U.S.
Congress, House Committee on Near East and South Asia, Committee on Foreign
Affairs; 93rd Congress, 2nd Session, 1974, p. 135; quoted in Bezboruah, op. cit.,
p. 53.
94. Admiral John McCain, USN (Ret.), quoted in Bezboruah, op. cit., p. 57.
96. Ibid.
97. Quoted in ibid., p. 41.
98. Seabed Arms Control Treaty, U.S. Congress, Committee on Foreign Rela-
tions, 93rd Congress, 2nd Session, 1974; quoted in Bezboruah, op. cit., p. 42.
99. Bezboruah, op. cit.
100. Ibid.
101. U.S. Security Interests in the Persian Gulf, op. cit., p. 3.
102. Ibid., p. 13.
103. Ibid., p. 4.
104. United States Arms Policies in the Persian Gulf and Red Sea Areas:
Past, Present and Future, Report of a Staff Survey Mission, 95th Congress, 1st
Session, 1977, pp. 12-13.
107. Braun, op. cit., p. 23.
108. Ibid., p. 65.
109. Ibid., p. 63.
110. Ibid., pp. 44, 64.
111. Redko et al., op. cit., p. 30.
112. James H. Hayes, Indian Ocean Geopolitics, Rand Paper No. P-5325-1,
1975, p. 5.
113. Braun, op. cit., p. 63.
114. Ibid., p. 61.
115. Ibid., p. 25.
116. Statesman Yearbook 1979-80, p. 884.
118. Braun, op. cit., pp. 65-66 n.
119. Ibid., p. 66.
120. Ibid.
121. Ibid.
122. Hayes, op. cit., p. 5.
123. Ibid.
124. Braun, op. cit., p. 65.
126. Ibid.
127. Ibid.
128. Philip Towle, Naval Power in Indian Ocean: Threats, Bluffs and Fan-
tasies (Canberra, 1979), p. 34.
129. Ibid.
130. Ibid.
131. Braun, op. cit., p. 65.
132. Statement by John Erickson in Afghanistan: The Soviet Invasion and
its Consequences for British Policy, House of Commons Foreign Affairs Commit-
tee, 5th Report, (London: 1980), pp. 235ff.; quoted in Braun, op. cit., Appendix
D, pp. 211-212.
133. John Erickson, op. cit., p. 50.
135. Jane's Defense Weekly, London: Jane's Publishing, July 28, 1984, p. 8.
137. Ibid.
138. Ibid.
140. Ibid.
141. Ibid.
142. Braun, op. cit, pp. 100-103.
143. Ibid., p. 102.
144. Ibid., p. 101.
145. Ibid., p. 103.
147. Ibid., p. 98 n.
149. Redko, op. cit., p. 12.
150. Braun, op. cit., p. 108.
151. Ibid., p. 81.
152. Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger's Fy 1983 Department of De-
fense, Annual Report to the Congress, p. II-3.
153. K. Subrahmanyam, Indian Security Perspectives (New Delhi, Lancer
International, 1982), p. 36.
154. Ference A. Valid, Politics of the Indian Ocean Region: The Balance of
Power (London: Collier Macmillan, 1976), p. 39.
155. February 1974, p. 5. Also see U.S. Congress, House Committee on
Armed Services, Military Posture and HR 11500, Part 4 of 5 parts; 94th Congress,
2nd Session, 1976, p. 61; quoted in Bezboruah, op. cit., p. 154.
156. Michael MacGwire, "The Proliferation of Maritime Weapon Systems in
the Indo-Pacific Region," in Robert O'Neill (ed.), Insecurity: The Spread of
Weapons in the Indian and Pacific Oceans (Canberra, Australian National Uni-
versity Press, 1978), pp. 121-22.
157. Ibid., p. 130.
158. Ibid., p. 135.
159. Mohammed Ayoob, "The Indian Ocean Littoral: Intra-Regional Conflicts
and Weapons Proliferation," in O'Neill (ed.), op. cit., pp. 102-4.
160. Bezboruah, op. cit., p. 121 n.
161. Ibid.
162. Dale R. Tahtinen, Arms in the Indian Ocean: Interests and Challenges
(Washington; American Enterprise Institute, 1977), p. 24.
163. Ibid., p. 44.
164. Cottrel and Moorer, op. cit., p. 35. See also Edward Luttwak, The Politi-
cal Uses of Seapower (Baltimore, Johns Hopkins University Press, 1974), p. 47.
In the context of naval forces planning, Luttwak pleads for a less sophisticated
but more visible power since, for instance, one does not need a powerful sonar
under the hull or a digital data system in the superstructure "to frighten South
Yemen or encourage the Sheikh of Abu Dhabi."
165. Luttwak, op. cit., p. 68.
166. Ibid., p. 69.
167. Quoted in Quinlan (1983), op. cit., p. 10.
168. Testimony by Walter Slocombe, op. cit., p. 334.
169. Booth, op. cit., p. 232.
170. Vali, op. cit., p. 181.
171. Ayoob, op. cit., p. 106.
172. Towle, op. cit., p. 101.

173. Booth, op. cit, p. 104.
174. Quoted in ibid.
175. Ibid.
176. Strategic Survey (London: International Institute of Strategic Studies,
1979), p. 24.
177. Towle, op. cit., p. 36.
178. Booth, op. cit., pp. 105-106.
180. Ibid., p. 13.
181. Ibid., p. 39.
183. Ibid.
184. Ibid., p. 84.
185. William J. Barnds, "Arms Race or Arms Control in the Indian Ocean,"
quoted in ibid., p. 91.
186. Hayes, op. cit., p. 6.
188. Ibid., p. 101.
189. Tahtinen, op. cit., pp. 41-43.
190. Ibid., p. 42.
191. Ibid., p. 44.
192. Redko, et al., op. cit., p. 57.
193. Doc. UNA/AC.199/SR.3.P.12, quoted in ibid.
194. See J. Fuller, "Dateline Diego Garcia: Paved Over Paradise," Foreign
Policy, No. 28 (Autumn 1977), pp. 175-186.
195. Braun, op. cit., p. 27.
196. Defense Monitor (Washington), No. 4 (1974), p. 1.
197. Department of Defense authorization for appropriations for FY 1981,
Hearings before the Committee on Armed Services, U.S. Senate; 96th Congress,
2nd Session, 1980, pp. 7-9; quoted in Redko et al., op. cit., pp. 56-57.
TABLE 2.1. Fifty Years of Gunboat Diplomacy: 1919-69
A total of 151 incidents of gunboat diplomacy have been identified in which 63 of the
victims were non-European states outside the alliances in Asia, Africa, and Latin Amer-
ica. The assailants in these incidents are listed and also the number of incidents in which
they are involved.*
United States 60
Britain 55
France 14
Soviet Union 4
China 2
Others** 45
Notes:
* The number of incidents do not tally with the number of assailants because of involvement of
more than one assailant in each of many incidents.
** Others include mainly ex-colonial powers like the Netherlands, Spain, Portugal, Italy, Ger-
many, and Japan.
Source: K. Booth, Navies and Foreign Policy (London: Croom Helm, 1977), App., pp. 177-229
TABLE 2.2. Great Power Naval Position in the Indian Ocean
U.S. Deployments in the Indian Ocean

(Regular)
Indian Ocean Detachment from 7th Fleet:
1 Carrier battle group (about 6 surface combatants)
9 Stores/Replenishment vessels
Middle East Force:
1 Command ship
2 Destroyers
Marine Amphibious Unit (MAU)* (1800)
deployed intermittently (*MAUs are embarked in Amphibious
Ready Groups [ARG], comprising 4-7 amphibious ships,
with a reinforced infantry battalion, including tanks and
artillery, a composite air squadron [including helicopters],
and a logistical group)
Bases and facilities:
Diego Garcia and Subic Bay (outside the Indian Ocean)
Mombasa port and airfield and Nanyuki air base in Kenya
Berbera and Mogadishu in Somalia, Masirah and Muscat in
Oman and Bahrain
Saudi Arabia, Sinai, and Egypt
Singapore
N.W. Cape and Cockburn Sound in Western Australia
Soviet Indian Ocean Deployment
(Regular)
Detachments from the Pacific Fleet serve in the Indian Ocean,
the average strength being:
2—3 Submarines
8 Surface combatants
2 Amphibious ships
12 Support ships
Bases and facilities:
Da Nang and Cam Ranh Bay (outside the Indian Ocean)
Aden, Socotra in South Yemen
Dahlak Island in Ethiopia, Massawa, and Assab
French Forces in the Indian Ocean
(Frequent)
Task force led by aircraft carrier/guided-missile frigate
South Indian Ocean:
1 Para regiment
1 Infantry regiment
1 Marine regiment 2700 personnel
1 Infantry company
Dijibouti
6 Infantry companies
4 armored squadrons
2 Artillery (1AA) batteries 3250 personnel
1 Mirage III squadron with 10 aircraft
Naval elements
Bases and facilities: Djibouti, La Reunion, and Mayotte
British Presence
(Intermittent)
1-2 Destroyers/Frigates
2 Support ships
1 Naval detachment on Diego Garcia
Bases and facilities: Access to Gulf base in Oman, Singapore,
Malaysia
TABLE 2.3. Indian Ocean Littoral Naval Balance
Australia Bangladesh India Indonesia Malaysia Pakistan 5. Arabia S. Africa Thailand

Navy Personnel 17,000 5,300 47,000 42,000 8,700 11,000 2,500 5,000 32,200
Aircraft Carriers — — 1
—
— — — —
—
Patrol Submarines 6 — 8 2(1) 6+
— 5 (small) — — —
Cruisers — — — — 1 — —
— —
Destroyers 3 — 3( + 3) — — 7 — — —
Frigates 10(+2) 3 21(2 + 3) 10( + 3) 2(+2) (4) 1 6
Corvettes 3( + 3) 4 — (2+1)
—
Fast Attack Craft:
Missiles 4 8 4(4) 8(4) 4 9 9(1) 6
—
Torpedo — 2 2 4 3 —
Gun 8 (2) 6 12
Patrol Craft 22(2) 13(2) 4 22 22 5 36 35 94
Naval Air Arm:
Personnel 1,650 2,000 1,000 — —
— — — — 15
Combat A/c 9 — 36 8 3
— — —
Combat Hel. 6 — 26 10 — 6 — — 11
Bases Sydney Chitta- Bombay Jakarta Wood- Karachi Jeddah Simons- Bangkok
Melbourne gong Goa (Tanjung lands Port Al Qatif/ town Sattahip
Jervis Bay Dacca Cochin Priok) Kuantan Cassim Jubail Durban Songkla
Brisbane Khulna Vishaka- Surabaya Lebuan Ras Phangnga
Cains Chalna patnam Lumut Tanura
Darwin Port Damman
Cockburn Blair Yanbu
Sound Ras al
Mishab
Figures in parentheses as: (4) building

(+4) proposed
(4 = 4) building and proposed
Sources: Jane's Fighting Ships (London: Jane's Publishing Company, 1984-85); The Military Balance (London: International Institute of Strategic Studies, 1983-84).
TABLE 2.4. Major Naval Armaments of Indian Ocean Littoral States
Australia
3 Destroyers with Standard SAM; 2 Ikara ASW
2 Frigates with 1 Harpoon SSM, 1 Standard SAM, 2 helicopters
6 River frigates with 1 X 4 Seacat SAM/SSM, 1 Ikara ASW
Air arm:
1 Composite squadron with 7S-2G, 2 HS-748 (ECM)
1 ASW helicopter squadron with 6 MK-50 Sea Kings
On order:
2 FFG-7 frigates
6 PCF-420 large patrol craft
2 MCM catamarans
7 Harpoon SSMs
2 Phalanx 20mm AA systems
6 AS-530 Ecurewil
2 Sea King helicopters
India
3 Modified Kashin II destroyers with 4 Styx SSM, 2 X 2 SA-
N-l SAM, 1 Ka-25 Hel.
21 Frigates; 1 Modified Leander (Godawari class), 6 Leanden
with 2 X 4 Seacat SAM, 1 helicopter, 2 Whitly class with 3
Styx SSM; 10 Petya-II, 2 Type 41 AD frigate
3 Nanuchka corvettes with 4SS-N-2 SSM, 1 SA-N-4 SAM
8 Osa-I (6 FAC(M), 2 FAC), 8 Osa-II with 4 Styx SSM
Air arm:
1 Attack squadron, 8 Sea Harriers
1 ASW squadron with 5 Alize 1050
2 MR squadrons with 2 Super Constellation, 5 GL-38
5 ASW helicopter squadrons with 12 Sea King, 5 Ka-25 Hor-
mone (on Kashins), 11 Alouette III
1 Search and Rescue (SAR) /liaison helicopter sqn. with 1C
Alouette-III
On order:
4 Type-1500 submarines
3 Kashins
5 Godawari and Improved Godawari frigates
2 Nanuchka corvettes
3 IL-38 MR a/c
10AM-39Exocet ASM
5 Sea Eagle ASM
Indonesia
9 Frigates: 3 Fatahilla with 4 Exocet SSM (1 with Wasp heli-
copter) , 2 Riga Class
4 FACs Dagger with 4 Exocet SSM
On order:
Frigates and FACs
Air arm:
1 ASW helicopter squadron with 10 Wasps
2 MR squadrons: 2 Nomad N-223
Malaysia
1 Frigate with 1 X 4 Seacat SAM; 1 Type-41
8 FAC with 4 or 2 Exocet SSM
On order:
4 Spica FAC(M) with MM-40 Exocet SSM
Pakistan
1 County-class destroyer with 1 Sea King, 2 X 4 Seacat SAM,
1 helicopter
5 U.S. Gearing with 1 X 8 ASROC ASW, three type 21 on order
from Vosper Thorney Craft
1 Battle-class destroyer
Air arm:
1 ASW/MR squadron with 3 Atlantic with Exocet ASM
2 ASW/SAR helicopter squadrons with 6 Sea King ASW with
AM-39, 4 Alouette-III.
On order:
Harpoon ASMs
Saudia Arabia
Corvettes with 2 X 4 Harpoon SSMs
FACs with 2 X 2 Harpoon SSMs
South Africa
FAC with 6 Skerpioen (Gabriel-type) SSMs
Thailand
1 Frigate with 1 X 4 Seacat SAM
3 FAC with 4 Exocet SSM
3 with 5 Gabriel SSM
On order:
5 Harpoon SSM
10 MM-39 Exocet coast defense missiles
TABLE 2.5. Value of Arms Imports into the Indian Ocean Area (1976-80)
Suppliers/Million Dollars (Current)

Recipients US USSR France UK FRG Others Total
Africa
Botswana 20 — 5 25
— — —
Ethiopia 80 1900 10 5 230 2225
—
Kenya 50 30 40 60 180
— —
Malagasy — 60 10 10 80
— —
Mali 110 10 120
—
— — — —
Malawi — 10 10 5 5 30
Mozambique 180
—
— — — 95 275
Niger — 40 10 50
— — —
Nigeria 40
_ 90 50 110 50 340
—
Somalia 150 40 10 10 540 750
Sudan 140 10 5 360 60 575
—
South Africa 20 200 250 470
Tanzania 320 5 10 —
— 135 470
Uganda — 40 5 10 55
—
— —
— —
Zambia 220 20 5 100 345
Zimbabwe — --- 40 — — 50 90
Total Region 620 2790 440 225 455 1550 6080
East Asia
China 220 50 400 20 690
— —
Indonesia 220 40 40 20 510 830
—
Japan 1000 20 1020
— — — —
Malaysia 170 110 50 185 515
— —
Singapore 160 10 10 75 255
— —
Thailand 525 5 10 180 720
Vietnam —
1900 — — —
— 1900
— —
Total Region 2075 2120 215 530 20 970 5930
Middle East
and Gulf
Bahrain 5 —
20 25 50
Egypt 430 20 600 180 370 300 1900
Iran 6200 625 200 250 380 650 8305
Iraq — 5000 950 90 160 1560 7760
Israel 4300 60 30 4390
— — —5
lordan 725 280 50 1060
— —
Kuwait 390 50 130 220 10 800
—
Lebanon 40 10 20 5 10 85
—
Oman 10 400 10 420
—
— — —
Qatar 5 70 90 10 175
Saudi Arabia 2000 700 975 350 660 4685
—
—
UAE 20 450 60 40 20 590
South Yemen 775 — 10 785
— — —
North Yemen 170 625 80 — 10 205 1090
Total Region 14,295 7095 3210 2625 1320 3550 32,095
Oceania
Australia 575 190 140 100 1005
— —
Suppliers /Million Dollars (Current)

Recipients US USSR France UK FRG Others Total
South Asia __
Afghanistan 450 10 460
— — —
Bangladesh 20 10 30 60
India 50 2300 50 160 10 180 2750
Nepal
Pakistan 220 20 390 20 50 360 1060
Sri Lanka — 10 5 10 — 5 30
Region Total 270 2800 445 200 60 585 4360
Region-Wide Totals
Africa 620 2790 440 225 455 1550 6080
East Asia 2075 2120 215 530 20 970 5930
Middle East 14,295 7095 3210 2625 1320 3550 32,095
and Gulf
Oceania 575 — 190 140 100 1005
—
South Asia 270 2800 445 200 60 585 4360
Grand Total 17,835 14,805 4290 3770 1955 6755 49,470
Note: Totals do not tally due to rounding off and approximations.
Source: World Military Expenditures and Arms Transfers, 1971-80 (Washington: U.S. Arms Control
and Disarmament Agency, 1981), pp. 20-30.
TABLE 2.6. Incidents of "Gunboat Diplomacy" in the Indian Ocean Area (1971-81)
Size/Type Deployment
Year Assailant Victim of Force Area Explanation
December 1971 U.S. India Task force of 7th Fleet; Bay of Bengal "To deter India" and "to show soli-
Carrier U.S.S. Enter- darity with China" during the
darity
prise, amphibious as- India-Pak conflict1
sault ship with a bat-
talion of marines,
and 7 destroyers.
1973 Soviet Union Kuwait Naval contingent During border conflict with Iraq2
October 1973 U.S. Arab States of West Asia Task force led by Western Indian It is acknowledged that "force was
U.S.S. Hancock car- Ocean used in a vague coercive fashion,"
rier and that the deployment was
meant as "reinforcement" for U.S.
diplomatic initiatives.3
July 1976 U.S. Uganda East coast of In the wake of the Entebbe raid, to
Africa warn Uganda against an attack
on Kenya, which facilitated raid.4
1976 U.S. Uganda — East coast of To counter Idi Amin's threat against
Africa Americans residing in Uganda.5
May 1977 France Somalia/Ethiopia/Djibouti 18 warships including Off Red Sea To "deter the grab" of Djibouti by
two aircraft carriers coast Somalia and Ethiopia.6
1977-78 Soviet Union Somalia Ships helped air force operations/
amphibious ships brought war ma-
terial for Ethiopia during the
Ogaden war.7
TABLE 2,6. (continued)
Size/Type Deployment
Year Assailant Victim of Force Area Explanation
February 1979 U.S. North Yemen Task group led by Dispatched to At the time of the Yemeni war, after
U.S.S. Constellation the Arabian sending two E-3A AWACS from
Sea Okinawa and 200 military tech-
niccians to South Yemen.8
nicians
December 1979 U.S. Iran ~ U.S. naval capability was demon-
started as a means of "trying to
strated
put the squeeze on Iran."9
1981 Soviet Union South Africa Mozambique Reinforced presence in response to
—
Channel South African incursions into
Mozambique.10
Notes:
1. United States Foreign Policy Objectives and Overseas Military Installations, Committee on Foreign Relations, 96th Congress, 1st Session, 1979, p. 90.
2. Dieter Braun, The Indian Ocean: Region of Conflict or "Zone of Peace?" (London, 1983), p. 65.
3. United States Foreign Policy Objectives, p. 89 and 89n.
4. Ibid., p. 90.
5. Ibid.
6. P. K. S. Namboodiri et al., Intervention in the Indian Ocean (Delhi, 1982), p. 46.
7. Braun, op. cit, p. 65.
8. Namboodiri et al., op. cit., pp. 144, 157.
9. National Policy Objectives and the Adequacy of Our Current Navy Forces, Hearings before the Committee on Armed Services, House of Representatives,
96th Congress, 2nd Session, 1979, p. 23.
10. Braun, op. cit., p. 65.
3
Emerging Economic Issues in
American Perspective
JOEL LARUS
While the Indian Ocean is the world's third largest ocean, the economic
diversity of its littoral and hinterland states may be without equal. Few
statements regarding industrial-agricultural conditions and development pro-
grams can be made that apply equally to all sectors or even to the several
states within a particular sector. Here can be found some of the world's most
densely populated countries, as well as island nations whose total popula-
tion is well under 100,000. The level of agricultural development ranges
from countries that are involved in carrying out a green revolution to others
whose farming methods have changed little in the last several hundred years.
The scientific, technological, and business communities of the most progres-
sive states are sizeable and have realized notable accomplishments; other
governments have to depend on a handful of men and women with modest
educational backgrounds. In the Persian Gulf, there are oil-rich states that
have sufficient financial resources to provide each citizen with exceptionally
liberal educational, medical, and social benefits; several hundred miles away
there are countries, lacking oil-gas reserves, whose populations are poorly
housed and clothed and must struggle daily to obtain minimal quantities of
food.
Such sharp contrasts and uneven tempos of development mean that dis-
cussion and analysis about the economic goals of the 36 littoral and 11
hinterland states that make up the so-called Indian Ocean community must
be approached with caution. For example, a modernization program that
excites the imagination of officials of an island nation may be discounted
by bureaucrats of its nearest neighbor as being unrealistic, impractical, and
133
wasteful of public funds. And, of course, states receiving aid and assistance
from one superpower may be praised or attacked by leaders with a differing
economic orientation.
Perhaps there is only one economic objective that is common to all In-
dian Ocean states, no matter where they are located or the level of their
economic progress: Every government is committed to developing its diverse
economic resources in a manner that holds out the most likely prospects for
improving the general welfare of its citizens, and doing so in the most expe-
ditious manner possible. Disagreements and tensions arise when discussion
turns to the specific means that will lead to economic growth. Then the afore-
mentioned diversity of the regional states comes into sharp focus.
While one should not discount their parochialism, the regional states
somewhat recently have come to recognize that the approximately 30 mil-
lion square mile area of the Indian Ocean is a commonly shared resource,
one that could be instrumental to their respective economic development ef-
forts. The long-negotiated, now drafted, but not operative Law of the Sea
Convention (LOSC) has given each littoral and hinterland state a variety
of new rights and duties, both within the 200-mile exclusive economic zone
(EEZ) as well as on the seabed beyond the limits of national jurisdiction.1
Some LOSC provisions, more and more local capitals are realizing, hold out
the promise of facilitating new industrial enterprise, reducing chronic unem-
ployment, correcting unfavorable balance-of-payment gaps, and, not the least
important, improving the diet. These states now are engaged in policy dis-
cussions of how best to utilize the ocean's mineral and living marine re-
sources. Concomitantly, they also have begun to consider the most appropri-
ate means to explore and exploit the mineral and living marine resources of
the continent of Antarctica and its surrounding waters. (Whether or not the
ocean space below 60° south latitude—where Antarctica is located—is or
is not a part of the Indian Ocean is a question better left to geographers and
oceanographers.) Here is located one of the world's last common spaces,
a continent where territorial claims are ill-defined or in dispute and an area
where great proven as well as enormous potential resource wealth exists.
These two related topics—how best to apply key provisions of the LOSC
for the economic development of regional states, and whether or not to chal-
lenge the existing Antarctic regime—are issues of great moment to these
countries. A common policy on either topic will not be forthcoming; the re-
gion's diversity precludes such agreement. Some local states have announced
that they would not ratify the LOSC, thus ending what was thought to be
a chance at unanimity.2 Other governments are expected to take a similar
stand. The debate over whether the Antarctic Treaty should or should not
be amended to reflect better local economic priorities and development pro-
grams is currently taking shape both within the U.N. General Assembly and
elsewhere. Here, too, regional consensus is highly improbable.
This paper, accordingly, will attempt to deal selectively with four key
economic issues relating to the Indian Ocean and its future. They are issues
that will have an important impact on U.S. relations with the states of the
Emerging Economic Issues: American Perspective 135
Indian Ocean region as a whole, and in particular on U.S. relations with
India. These issues are:
1. The exploitation of living marine resources in the EEZs of the littoral
states;
2. The exploration and exploitation of mineral resources, particularly oil
and gas, in the same areas;
3. The recovery and utilization of the polymetallic nodules that are lo-
cated on the deep seabed;
4. The exploration and exploitation of both the mineral and living marine
resources of Antarctica.
In both a geographic and economic sense, India occupies the control

position throughout the Indian Ocean. Not only is it the regional country
that has been most successful in industrializing and modernizing, but its de-
velopment is also one of the principal keys to the region's future economic
growth, particularly if this development is connected to resources of the ocean.
New Delhi's several oceanic programs, as will be discussed, are imaginative
and broad ranging, and almost all appear to hold out the promise of being
successful. Unquestionably, the effectiveness of the oceanic programs of the
remaining 35 coastal states is closely related to what New Delhi does or
does not realize in executing its comparable programs. In such matters, In-
dia's leadership role increasingly is being recognized and its goals respected.
To analyze India's oceanic policies and programs without first discussing
the common-heritage-of-mankind concept and its application to both the
LOSC and Antarctica would be imprudent. It is a concept that Indian lead-
ers for years have championed in the United Nations and other international
forums, but never under the political-economic pressures that exist today.
Accordingly, the concept will be examined critically before discussing its im-
plications for Indo-U.S. relations.
The United States, for its part, cannot be indifferent to the economic di-
mension of the Indian Ocean and, above all to India's oceanic activities. The
Persian Gulf-Arabian Sea sector has been declared to be vital to American
security; Washington has friends and allies throughout the region. Currently,
the governments of India and the United States do not share similar views
on some of the aforementioned four topics to be examined in this paper. If
future, serious disagreements on oceanic economic policies and programs are
to be avoided, it is a propitious time to consider the points of divergence and
work for compromise solutions, if possible.
The 200-Mile Exclusive Economic Zone
Whether or not the LOSC enters into force, international lawyers generally
agree that the 200-mile EEZ is now a customary rule of law. Today the
area considered as the high seas has shrunk one-third while the hydrospace
and seabed under national jurisdiction of coastal states has been enlarged
manifold. (See Table 3.1.) For example, Mauritius (population 997,000)

claims sovereign rights to the seventeenth largest EEZ in the world, or some
345,000 miles of ocean; Maldives (population 157,000) is twenty-third on
the EEZ list; and the Seychelles (population 68,000) controls over 380
thousand square miles of EEZ space. India has become an EEZ giant. It now
has 800 thousand square miles of ocean where it may exercise sovereign re-
source rights, thus ranking it twelfth in a worldwide listing.3
Within the newly created zone, a 200-mile corridor seaward of the base-
line of the territorial sea of a coastal state, a government has sovereign rights
to explore and exploit the living and non-living resources, as well as the duty
to develop programs designed to better manage, conserve, and utilize the
ocean under its control.
The worldwide acceptance of the EEZ concept as an integral part of con-
temporary international marine law must be considered one of the most sig-
nificant accomplishments of the prolonged LOS negotiations. In most practical
and utilitarian ways, it has completely altered ocean management and develop-
ment. It also offers Third World states that border on ocean space an un-
precedented opportunity to increase national income, raise foreign exchange
earnings, and improve national diets. The policies and programs adopted by
each coastal state to maximize its benefits from EEZ use will be somewhat
different, reflecting the level of industrial development, economic objectives,
defense needs, and the domestic political situation. In turn, each venture will
have a series of different political-economic (and possibly military) effects.
But some general observations concerning Indian Ocean states and their
EEZ opportunities can be offered in the two most important areas of activity,
namely, fishing and oil-gas recovery.
EEZ Fishing Expansion

Marine experts estimate that, as a result of the 200-mile rule, 99 percent of
the world's fish resources are located in ocean space under national control.
For the first time in history, foreign fishing vessels can be excluded from
sectors of the ocean that earlier had been available and, conversely, coastal
states can now contract with foreign fishermen for their mutual economic
advantage.
The fishing states of the Indian Ocean are in as good a position as any
nation in the world to take advantage of the new rule. For well-established
historical, cultural, and technological reasons, local fishermen traditionally
have tended to concentrate their efforts in offshore, coastal fishing rather
than sail hundreds of miles from land and risk the dangers to life. Conversely,
fishermen from non-regional states—notably French, Japanese, South Ko-
rean, Soviet, Spanish, and Taiwanese—have been most prominent in har-
vesting migratory and non-migratory species. The result has been that the
annual catches of foreign vessels in Indian Ocean waters have been substan-
tial, but the harvests of local fishermen are much less impressive.4 A recent
report on "The Fishing Industry in the Indian Ocean" calls attention to this
imbalance in a dramatic fashion. In comparison to the Atlantic and North

Pacific areas:
. . . the Indian Ocean has been relatively neglected for a long time. . . .
it is an extremely under-exploited area. Catches in 1982 only represented
close to 5% of worldwide production; 3.74 million tonnes . . . out of a
world total of 76 million tonnes (including aquaculture).
The essay then concludes with the observation that a large proportion of
Indian Ocean fish is harvested by "the two huge fleets that comb the area—
the Japanese and Soviet fleets."5
Fishing statistics of regional states during the post-World War II pe-
riod are unreliable and difficult to locate. But recent tonnage figures of what
may be considered a typical local situation are revealing. In a 1971 survey of
the Seychelles, one author reported:
Inshore fishing produces an estimated 1000-1500 tons per annum, which
provides for minimal local needs and some export. . . . Efforts are being
made to develop the rich potentials of the surrounding seas with colonial
development and welfare funds.6
A report on the Seychelles fishing industry that was issued 13 years later
bears no resemblance to the earlier situation. Reporting on the opportuni-
ties that would accrue to coastal states prepared to capitalize on their EEZ
sovereign rights, the July 1984 survey noted: "Only a few years ago, the
Seychelles were having to import large quantities of fish, but the country
is now on the way to becoming one of the largest fishing centres in the In-
dian Ocean."7 In offering reasons for such a turnabout, the editors reported
that in January 1984 the government of the Seychelles exercised its sovereign
rights over the 200-mile EEZ and negotiated a licensing fee and royalty arrange-
ment with European fishermen for the right to harvest catches in its waters.
Depending on its location, the size of its EEZ, the marketability of the
species, and the like, every coastal state of the Indian Ocean has a com-
parable opportunity either to develop its indigenous fishing industry or to
lease to a foreign vessel(s) the right to operate in its waters, or possibly a
combination of the two.
India, because of its geographical and technological advantages, should
be among the region's most progressive and successful fishing nations, but
it has been slow to develop its potential.8 According to a 1982 article written
by an Indian reporter, the country's fishing fleet consisted of approximately
16,000 mechanized boats plus hundreds of traditional catamarans. Only 57
trawlers were equipped for deep-sea fishing. The author also stated that In-
dia's 1982 total catch was about 1.5 million tons, of which an estimated
99 percent came from coastal waters and the remaining amount from the
deep sea.9 Approximately a year later, another report, dated July 1983,
characterized the country's fish production as "stagnant." It continued:
. . . state corporations in the field are running at a loss and unable to
raise the finance for expanding operations; and the traditional fishermen
. . . have been increasingly threatened by the expansion in number of

mechanised fishing boats.10
Several months ago, New Delhi released figures regarding the nation's
1983 catch. Indian fishermen harvested an all-time high of 1.6 million tons,
a 1.1 percent increase over the previous year but an amount that neverthe-
less continues to represent "an under-exploited national resource."
The negative results of India's efforts to organize and manage a dynamic
and growing fishing industry can be found in The Yearbook of Fisheries for
1984, the latest compendium of statistics assembled by the United Nations
Food and Agriculture Organization. In 1980, India's total production of fish
(fresh/chilled/frozen) was 22,629 metric tons. The following year it had
fallen to 8769 metric tons, and in 1982 it was further reduced to 6760 metric
tons. There was a major increase in 1983 to 19,094 metric tons, or an
amount somewhat comparable to the nation's catch in 1980.
Additional facts about India's fishing industry help explain its sluggish
performance. The country's principal harvest is shrimp, a catch that consis-
tently represents about 85 percent of the total annual marine product. In
1982—83, for example, out of a gross seafood export of Rs 361 crore (ap-
proximately $3.6 million), the value of shrimp was Rs 316 crore (approxi-
mately $3.2 million.11 Export sales in such amounts, as a United Nations
study revealed, makes India the largest volume exporter of shrimp in the
world.12
Such figures are not grounds for optimism since India's shrimp industry
is facing a very troubled future. Indian marine biologists have expressed con-
cern that the possibilities for increased shrimping are not only limited but
possibly also fading rapidly. So intensively have local inshore fishermen ex-
ploited the nation's shrimp beds that today there is genuine concern that the
coming years may be marked by serious depletion, shortages, and local hun-
ger. In 1982, an Indian editorialist, Rahmatullah Khan, wrote:
According to reliable FAO estimates, India's shrimp stock has already
reached the 'full exploitation' status—which in layman's language means
that any increment in effort (increase in the number of trawlers, for in-
stance) will drag it into the 'depletion' status, or put it on the endangered
species list.13
Other problems abound in the industry. Japan, India's principal shrimp
importer, discontinued large purchases in September 1983 because of pricing
disagreements. Within a few weeks the country was heavily overstocked with
frozen shrimp and no foreign market. The dispute has since been resolved,
but tensions remain. Also, the United States, which at one time imported a
substantial quantity of Indian shrimp, became concerned in recent years with
the problem of salmonella. In October 1979, the Food and Drug Administra-
tion placed the import on its "block listing" register, a designation that re-
quires all such products to receive special inspection. The block listing re-
mains in force. In short, India's leading item of exported fish products,
namely, shrimp, is in jeopardy. The industry needs governmental assistance

on every level of operation, beginning with a program designed to protect
existing beds from being over-fished and ending with the actual processing
of the product for the export market.
A different, but related, complicating problem for India's fishing indus-
try—and almost every other littoral state of the region—is the paucity of
data concerning the physical makeup of the EEZ. On this topic, Khan wrote:
On the state of knowledge of the resource potential, one needs to note that
there is a good deal of guessing game involved. There has never been an
accurate and scientific survey made of all of India's 7,100 km coastline to
evaluate the stock situation, population dynamics, migration patterns etc.,
of the living resources, which alone can lead to meaningful resource esti-
mates. . . . There has been little of commercially relevant, resource-
related research on fisheries in India.14
The other fishing-related problems that Indian Ocean states will have to
deal with add up to a sizeable list. Patrols must be enlarged and strengthened
so that they are better able to stop poaching by unauthorized vessels, currently
a heavy drain on local catches. Fleets must be expanded and mechanized;
on-board processing facilities must be modernized. The rights and interests
of the traditional fisherman, unable or unwilling to change occupational pat-
terns of a lifetime, need to be protected. The on-shore infrastructure for pro-
cessing and retailing (locally and abroad) will have to be brought up to date.
In pursuing their various programs to exploit their respective EEZs un-
der national control, and to build up a greater fishing capability, the Indian
Ocean states have, at the same time, shown a willingness to work coopera-
tively. Encouraging signs of moves toward accommodation were evident at
the July 1984 conference on the development of the world's fishing industry,
a meeting held under the auspices of the Food and Agricultural Organization
of the United Nations. A leading topic for discussion and analysis was the
Indian Ocean and how coastal states and island nations could increase an-
nual harvests. The press reports suggest that apparently there was greater
interest than ever before in the Indian Ocean Fisheries Committee, an agency
established by the Organization in 1968 but not operative until 1981. It was
the delegates' recommendation that the Committee develop multilateral pro-
grams as expeditiously as possible to make the fishing industry of the Indian
Ocean states scientifically and technologically on a par with operations in
the world's leading oceans and by its leading fleets.15
If such goals become a reality, foreign assistance will be required. In
developing an appropriate strategy, the Indian Ocean Fisheries Committee
should give careful attention to an earlier recommendation of another multi-
national body. In May 1983, the 39-nation Asia-Africa Legal Consultative
Committee held a session in Tokyo and considered, at length, how best
to organize a program of cooperation among member states so that they
could acquire and apply modern methods of fish harvesting. The Asia-Africa
Legal Committee expressed the opinion that unless member states "appro-
priately guarantee" foreign investments, it would be difficult to attract the
funds required for modernization.16
In summary, very great economic opportunities exist for Indian Ocean
states to exploit the fish found in EEZ waters provided they formulate poli-
cies that are realistic and reflective of the experiences of the leading non-
regional fishing nations.
EEZ Oil and Gas Exploration

According to a 1973 U.N. analysis, a significant 87.5 percent of the world's
offshore oil reserves are located in the seabed of the 200-mile EEZ. The re-
maining 12.5 percent, the report added, is located at such great depths below
the floor of the high seas that it is unlikely it ever will be recovered. In one
sense, therefore, the exploration and exploitation of energy resources within
a state's 200-mile EEZ, sometimes designated the continental margin re-
sources, represents a domestic policy matter and involves questions that are
within the exclusive purview of the local government. It has two policy al-
ternatives. First, it can go it alone, excluding foreign participation in all (or
most) phases of its energy development program and relying on its own
financial resources, personnel, and equipment to the greatest extent possible.
Such a policy decision relieves it of sharing gas or oil, if located and recov-
ered. Its alternate choice is to enter into a joint arrangement with a foreign
oil corporation, farming out bloc(s) of offshore sites, relying on its experience
and expertise, and dividing in an equitable manner whatever oil and gas
are produced. The specific terms and conditions of such joint ventures vary
considerably; each party is entitled to press for the most favorable economic
arrangement attainable. There is no treaty or other international agreement
that lists the norms or standards that apply in such situations.
Viewed from a different perspective, however, offshore energy explora-
tion and exploitation do have an international dimension, one bearing on
complex international economic problems. More specifically, a state's eco-
nomic development is tied directly to whether its oil and gas supplies come
from local and/or foreign fields. The state that is self-sufficient or nearly so
is well situated. To the extent that a nation's bill for imported energy repre-
sents a disproportionate amount of its hard currency outflow, on the other
hand, it may have to curtail industrialization, limit agricultural modernization
programs, and slow down the upgrading of its infrastructure. Also, there is
a high probability that such a state will have to seek out funds from an in-
ternational bank or other lending agency or request assistance from a friendly
government. The state, particularly the Third World state, that experiences
a continuous cycle of heavy oil-gas imports and difficult balance-of-payment
problems almost invariably can expect to remain poor and undeveloped, in
spite of often desperate and heroic efforts. The politics of development, it
is widely recognized, have become a key aspect of international affairs.
To a greater or lesser degree, the coastal states of the Indian Ocean have
been attempting, since the energy crisis of the early 1970s, to locate offshore
oil-gas fields in order to cut down on costly imports. The programs of India
and Indonesia until the last several months have markedly differed in their
willingness to seek out and join in partnership ventures with foreign oil cor-
porations, taxation arrangements, profit sharing, and other basic terms of
production. Their respective policies, therefore, stand as contrasting regional
case histories of how programs designed to realize energy self-sufficiency can
be planned for and executed. If recent press reports are accurate, the partici-
pation of foreign oil companies appears to lead to a more sanguine result.17
The establishment of the 200-mile EEZ has resulted in a sizeable number
of territorial disputes in the Indian Ocean. When coastal states began to ex-
tend the area of national jurisdiction beyond traditional 3- to 12-mile range,
governments became increasingly attentive to claim as large an area of the
ocean as possible and, concomitantly, determined to limit or cut back the
ocean space that neighboring nations claimed or utilized. The possibility of
locating oil and gas to help reduce imports sometime in the future was
sufficiently intensive to result in an indeterminate number of bilateral and
multilateral disagreements over where maritime boundary lines were to be
located. Because of the somewhat sketchy rules governing the establishment
of the 200-mile EEZ, states laid claim to long-ignored, sometimes uninhab-
ited, minuscule points of land, thus adding to the general instability and ten-
sions in some sectors of the region.
Again, India has been among the leading states peacefully adjusting its
marine boundaries. In 1974, for example, it settled its boundary with In-
donesia in the Andaman Sea. Four years later, India and Thailand concluded
a similar delimitation agreement, which, in turn, led the three countries to
sign the so-called Tripartite Agreement, which established a fixed, trilateral
seabed boundary line in the Andaman Sea.18 New Delhi also has taken the
lead in removing the possibility of maritime quarrels with Sri Lanka by con-
cluding an agreement with that government in 1976, as well as one with the
Maldives in 1979.19
In one sector of the Indian Ocean, however, maritime boundary contro-
versies remain unresolved. One such quarrel is over Tromelin, a one-mile-
long and 700-yard-wide, uninhabited islet in the western sector of the ocean.
France, Madagascar, and Mauritius all claim territorial rights to Tromelin
and the controversy appears one that may have to be resolved in an inter-
national court.
The Deep-Seabed Mining of Nodules

The Common-Heritage-of-Mankind Concept
In August 1967, Arvid Pardo, Malta's Ambassador to the United Nations,
called to the attention of the General Assembly the fact that "the known
resources of the seabed are far greater than the resources known to exist on
land."20 He requested member states to open negotiations for a new Law
of the Sea, one consistent with current uses of the ocean and emerging tech-
nological processes. Following an in-depth analysis and debate, in December
1970 the General Assembly adopted Resolution 2749 (XXV), entitled "Dec-
laration of Principles Governing the Seabed and Ocean Floor, and the Sub-
soil thereof, Beyond the Limits of National Jurisdiction." Seeking to lessen
the economic and social inequalities between developed and developing
states, Article 7 of the resolution included a revolutionary concept: "The
exploration of the area [i.e., the seabed beyond the limits of national juris-
diction] and the exploration of its resources shall be carried out for the bene-
fit of mankind as a whole, irrespective of the geographical location of States,
whether land-locked or coastal, and taking into particular consideration the
interests and needs of the developing nations."
Article 7 reflected two complementary objectives of the early advocates
of a new Law of the Sea. First, it would create an international maritime
regime authorized to explore and exploit the mineral and living marine re-
sources of the seabed for the general benefit of the world and for the par-
ticular benefit of states struggling to modernize, industrialize, and create
more equitable societies. Second, the article was intended to rebut the claims
of states seeking broad extensions of the traditional territorial seas, notably
those asserting a 200-mile or wider band as their jurisdictional maximum.
By incorporating the common-heritage concept and holding out a promise
of economic benefit to developing nations, the resolution's principal sponsors
hoped to convince all member states that it was in their individual and col-
lective interests to agree on very modest, frequently mentioned 12-mile limits
of national jurisdiction on the sea.
While a number of commentators have written favorably about the
General Assembly's declaration and analyzed the rationale of the several
states that were instrumental in securing its passage, few writers have men-
tioned an even earlier policy statement of the United States. Washington's
pronouncement not only has historical significance, but, as will be shown,
may have current application in discussions of revised or future new applica-
tions of the common-heritage concept.
In May 1970—seven months before the United Nations acted and ap-
proved of Resolution 2749—the Nixon Administration demonstrated its ac-
ceptance of the common-heritage concept and proposed its application. To-
day, perhaps more than in past years, this proposal is significant because it
reveals an American government willing to accept the principle that what
belongs to all should be for the benefit of all. The proposal also disproves
the implied charge of critics that the U.S. government in 1970 was intent on
exploiting the planet's common space resources for its own economic gain,
regardless of the needs of developing states.
According to the record, the Nixon Administration, following Ambassa-
dor Pardo's initial call, undertook a broadly based, in-depth study of all
aspects of traditional rules of the Law of the Sea and whether or not these
rules should be revised. The study determined which rules were in the na-
tional interest of the United States and which no longer served its political,
economic, and security interests. Details of Washington's first policy declara-

tion regarding a modern sea law were made public in the early spring of
1970. Nations were called upon to renounce national claims over the natural
resources of the sea and seabed beyond the point where the high seas reached
a depth of 200 meters (656 feet), and to regard all marine resources be-
yond this point as the common heritage of mankind. Specifically, such re-
sources were to be exploited for the benefit of mankind as a whole. The area
was to be designated an international trust zone; coastal states were to be
the managing trustees; and, more important, the fees and royalties collected
by the trustees were to be dedicated primarily to aid the developing states.
When the plan was initially unveiled, Washington proposed that 66 percent
of all funds collected by the trustee-states were to be distributed to Third
World governments to assist their development programs. Somewhat later,
and after the Nixon proposal had been debated by American mining leaders
who were involved in the recovery and processing of land-located minerals,
the announced schedule of common-heritage payments was revised down-
ward. The new proposal called for between 50 percent and 33 percent of
the total funds realized from the high-sea trust zone to be applied to the
common-heritage distribution scheme. "At issue," stated President Nixon,
"is whether the oceans will be used rationally and equitably and for the bene-
fit of mankind or whether they will become an area of unrestrained exploita-
tion and conflicting jurisdictional claims in which even the most advantaged
states will be losers."21
The 1970 Nixon proposal was not a fanciful bargaining ploy that the
administration planned to discard when serious negotiations took place. It
was a thoughtfully drawn plan that complemented three principal American
maritime objectives. First, because of its extensive maritime frontiers and the
dynamics of its free enterprise system and the need for foreign markets, the
United States historically has championed freedom of the seas and policies
backing unencumbered, non-regulated navigation—especially the right of
innocent passage. The Nixon proposal sought to minimize the area of the
high seas where littoral states legally could assert jurisdictional control. It
would have secured America's freedom of navigation in a fashion acceptable
both to U.S. commercial shipping interests and to the Department of De-
fense. Second, the proposed system of licensing a specified area of the high
seas and making fee payments for the right to explore and exploit whatever
resources were located there did not violate free market, free enterprise
principles concerning the establishment of a secure and satisfactory invest-
ment climate. Such arrangements were long familiar to American corpora-
tions. They offered a realistic opportunity for profit and industrial growth
without the program being burdened with unacceptable, inequitable regula-
tions. Finally, if the 1970 American proposal had been adopted, the United
States would have become a leader in the recovery and processing of poly-
metallic nodules.
As the United States and other nations became active in such opera-
tions, it should be added, the trustee-states would have had, within a rela-
lively few years, an important and substantial source of funds for distribution
to developing countries. This application of the common-heritage-of-mankind
concept today might be an accepted norm of international affairs and a stan-
dard easily transferred in whole or part to other common space areas of the
world.
Washington's policy initiative died a quick death at the United Nations
as well as in Law of the Sea negotiations. The proposal was a casualty of
the Third World's aversion to the West's private enterprise system cojoined
with a strong suspicion of programs of economic development emanating
from the United States. Leading the attack were the diplomats of those lit-
toral states determined to secure a legal right to exploit a 200-mile coastal
zone of ocean space so that they would have to share only minimally with
other countries the varied resources located on the continental shelf and
beyond. Allied with them were a number of Third World delegations com-
mitted to applying the common-heritage concept in the most ambitious fash-
ion possible so that it would accelerate the much-proclaimed need to bring
about a redistribution of wealth between the industrialized North and the
impoverished, economically weak South. The latter group of Third World
states, all advocates of a New International Economic Order (NIEO), was
determined to use its majority power to win approval of an international
deep-sea mining regime that would create for the first time a supra-national
agency designed to produce and distribute wealth in accordance with NIEO
criteria of international equity. This agency was to be highly structured and
have the power and administrative organization to engage in nodule mining
operations on a par with, and perhaps even better equipped and better
financed than, similar private enterprise operations. As has been widely re-
ported, Part 11 of the pending LOSC did in fact incorporate these values and
ideas.
While the Nixon trust zone proposal today is a mere footnote to early
sea law negotiations, perhaps it deserves a less obscure fate. It reveals the
United States as an early proponent of the common-heritage concept, and
that position is a creditable one. Of far greater long-range importance, how-
ever, it outlined an economically realistic way to exploit the resources of
common space for the developing nations. This latter aspect, particularly the
percentages of fees and royalties that were advocated for distribution to
Third World states, will be recalled in the sections of this paper dealing with
the current unsettled situation regarding nodule mining of the seabed and also
with the emerging issue of how best to exploit the resources of Antarctica.
The Part 11 Regime

Part 11 of the LOSC creates an International Seabed Authority (ISA) that
is composed of an Assembly, an Executive Council, a Secretariat, and an
operating arm known as the Enterprise. Together they have the legal right
to organize and manage all aspects of mineral exploration and exploitation
beyond the limits of national jurisdiction. The powers of each body are care-
fully delineated. The Assembly, composed of all treaty parties, is the su-
preme body of the ISA. Its voting pattern is on a one nation-one vote basis
rather than a weighted voting arrangement that would have given leading in-
vestor states more of a say as to the conduct of operations. The 36-member
Executive Council grants licenses, decides mining operational plans, and
formulates rules. No signatory state is to have a permanent or guaranteed
representation on the Executive Council. The Secretariat is the administra-
tive arm of the regime and is given the customary rights and duties of such
a body.
The Enterprise is by far the most controversial feature of Part 11 be-
cause its broad and far-ranging economic powers exceed those ever previ-
ously granted to a public international agency.22 The statesmen who drafted
the provisions of the LOSC that dealt with the rights and duties of the En-
terprise were attempting to meld the economic interests of private mining
corporations with those of the international agency; this arrangement gener-
ally is known as the parallel system of the LOSC. However, the drafters of
Part 11 ignored or minimized some of the most basic principles of free
economy operations as well as the essentials of any venture capital under-
taking.
In general, the most vocal American detractors of Part 11 have expressed
the most serious misgivings about three of the Enterprise's grants of author-
ity. These, they contend, are so biased in favor of a non-capitalistic eco-
nomic regime that they would give the Enterprise a decided advantage over
corporate miners, thereby imperiling the economic success of such corporate
undertakings.
First, they faulted the provision of Part 11 that requires a private cor-
porate or a public financed corporation to provide the Enterprise with a de-
tailed profile of two sites on the high seas, each with an area of 150,000
square kilometers (58,000 square miles), where it had located nodules and
wished to operate. The geological profile was to be sufficiently precise and
in-depth for Enterprise officials to make an informed decision as to which of
the two offered locations it wished to select for Enterprise mining operations
and which was to be licensed to the applicant-miner. Such a profile would
be very costly, yet it was to be made without charge to the Enterprise. As
some Western corporate mining officials have noted, the profile would dou-
ble their initial cost of commencing nodule recovery operations, thus giving
the Enterprise a decided monetary advantage.
A second requirement of Part 11 that, in the opinion of America's lead-
ing association of corporate miners, is unacceptable deals with the transfer
of technology from the licensee-miner to the Enterprise to request any and
all seabed mining technology purchased or developed by a licensee-miner.
Provided that the miner is legally entitled to make such a transfer, the tech-
nology must be made available if the Enterprise is unable to secure the
same—or equally efficient and useful—technology on the open market. When
such a transfer is negotiated, the Enterprise is required to pay "a fair and rea-
sonable" fee for the acquired technology. If the technology cannot be trans-
ferred legally because of restrictions imposed by the inventor-patentee or by

the owner-manufacturer, the private corporate miner is required to secure for
the Enterprise a similar technology. If such alternate arrangements cannot be
made, the licensee-miner must discontinue use of the technology in question
and shift to other mining procedures.
Each of these stipulations was debated intensively during the negotiations
concerning Part 11 of the convention. Those advocating the mandatory-
transfer provisions argued that all technological advances, regardless of their
source or finance, constitute part of the universal human heritage and, as
such, should be treated as a property right to be made available to would-be
users who were prepared to offer a fair and reasonable compensation. Op-
posed were those who maintained that such universal sharing obligations do
not exist and violate cardinal Western standards regarding the patent rights
of a property holder. They also contended that such transfers potentially
could be economically ruinous of their entire investment programs in nodule
mining and processing.
A third notable feature of the parallel system, one that applies to the
common-heritage-of-mankind concept most dramatically, concerns royalty
payments that the licensee-miner is required to make to the Enterprise. The
financial terms are exceedingly complicated: they distinguish between a
miner-operator from a socialist country and one from the capitalist world.
The former is taxed between 5 and 12 percent of the market value of the
metals it extracts from the recovered and processed nodules. The miner from
a capitalist country, in contrast, pays two taxes, both of which are determined
on a sliding scale. The first is a production tax of either 2 or 4 percent, de-
pending on the time period of production; the second is an attributable net
proceed tax that ranges from a minimum of 35 percent to a maximum of
70 percent, depending on the overall profitability of the operation. Such
two-tier taxation, it has been noted, handicaps the deep-seabed miner from
a capitalist nation to such an extent that serious questions arise if any such
operation can be conducted profitably. Another controversial taxing provision
of Part 11 cited by anti-LOSC groups grants the Enterprise a 10-year tax
holiday before it is required to contribute to the common-heritage fund but
denies the same privilege to the private corporate miner.23
Assuming that the ISA regime becomes functional before the end of the
century, approximately how much income might be available to it for dis-
tribution to the developing countries? One sketchy answer has been provided
in a recent publication by R. R. Churchill and A. V. Lowe. They state:
It is difficult to estimate the resultant income to the Authority, since much
depends upon movements in metal prices, interest rates and other impon-
derables. But estimates made in 1978, based on similar systems proposed
in the past, suggest that an average operation, having development costs of
about $559 million, annual operating costs of about $100 million, and an-
nual gross proceeds of about $258 million, might yield sums of the order
of $200 or $300 million during the estimated twenty-year life of a mine
site. Currently it is being suggested that there could be about a dozen mine
sites by the end of the century.24
U.S. Rejection
On July 9, 1982, President Reagan publicly announced that the United States
had decided to reject the now completed convention and that American dip-
lomats would neither participate in signing ceremonies scheduled for the fol-
lowing December in Jamaica nor participate as observers in the work of the
Preparatory Commission.
Somewhat earlier, on January 29, 1982, President Reagan had released
a list of general issues of concern to the United States, which were described
as "unacceptable elements" of the then pending convention.25 A more pre-
cise roster of Washington's "serious concerns" appeared in a so-called White
House Fact Sheet released the same day.28 All of the administration's reser-
vations centered on the articles dealing with the Enterprise's operations. The
first items objected to dealt with several operating provisions, including the
possible economically destructive effects of seabed mining on the economies
of land-based producers of the same metals. Other, perhaps even more seri-
ous objections related to procedural matters such as the voting arrangements
in the Assembly, representation in the Executive Council, and future amend-
ing procedures and their relationship to American constitutional law.
It has been argued that the provisions of Part 11 that the Reagan Ad-
ministration found unacceptable and not in the national interests of the
United States could have been amended to meet Washington's objections if
the Law of the Sea negotiators had persisted in their efforts. There appears
to be some truth to this position. However, had such revisions been made
and each one of the aforementioned provisions rewritten to reflect the Ameri-
can position, the Reagan Administration's last objection would have remained
unanswered. That objectionable element of Part 11 could not be eliminated,
amended, or reinterpreted without destroying the very essence of the Enter-
prise regime.
In listing the final "unacceptable elements," President Reagan called upon
the negotiators to amend the draft treaty so that it "not set other undesirable
precedents for international organizations." Freed of stilted, bureaucratic
phrasing, Washington served notice that the United States declined to accept,
in whole or in part, the philosophy of Part 11 as a stage in the growth of
international economic institutions. That is, the Enterprise represented an
unacceptable response by the Third World for a NIEO.27 To the Reagan
Administration, Part 11 signified the first global attempt to create a collec-
tivist economic enterprise, one antithetical to the free market system and
about which the American people had strong views. As such, it was an eco-
nomic doctrine that had to be checked, lest its concepts be applied else-
where by those favoring them.
The January 1982 statement made no mention of Antarctica or the so-
called Moon Treaty.28 It is conceivable nevertheless that the American ad-
ministration had the future of the continent and the moon in mind when
the President noted the "undesirable precedents" for international organiza-
tion in his statement. As will be shown, some developing nations by this
time had begun discussing the extreme and far-reaching application of the
common-heritage concept to the mineral and living marine resources of Ant-
arctica. Thus, President Reagan's detailed statement may have served notice
to the world community that in the eyes of the American government an
Enterprise-type regime was not an acceptable model for Antarctica or the
Moon Treaty.
India and Seabed Mining

Since the early 1980s, India has been engaged in a broadly conceived, costly
program to establish itself as the leading Third World state in the explora-
tion and exploitation of polymetallic nodules.29 No other developing coun-
try of the Indian Ocean area or beyond approximates India's interest in and
commitment to deep-seabed mining and the processing of the metals for
industrial use.30 As V. V. Eswaran noted in his essay on the nation's ocean
policy, India maintains a "unique position befitting its technological and
scientific advancement."31
To date, the results of New Delhi's foresight and of the high profes-
sionalism of the men and women assigned to the program are impressive. In
January-February 1980, for example, a locally built research vessel, the
Gaveshani, located an area particularly rich in manganese, iron, cobalt, and
nickel nodules while conducting the country's first scientific examination of
the central sector of the Indian Ocean. Two other Gaveshani expeditions
followed, each approximately 1360 miles from the Indian littoral and 10
degrees south of the equator. So successful were these voyages that in April
1982, India brought its nodule program to the attention of the Law of the
Sea Conference. By the end of that year, New Delhi announced, it would be
able to make the minimum $30 million budgetary allocation for seabed
mining operations required for countries seeking pioneer investor status un-
der Part 11 of the pending treaty. India did make the requisite investment
and was granted pioneer status accordingly; to date, India remains the only
Third World state so recognized.
During the next 12 months, Indian marine experts scanned 1 million
square miles of the central Indian Ocean seabed before deciding to concen-
trate on two specific ocean sectors each 150,000 square kilometers as called
for in a Part 11 provision. The Indian team began a systematic mapping and
exploration program designed to assemble as detailed a profile as feasible
of the potential nodule reserves at both sites. When, and if, the LOSC be-
comes operative, one of these sites will be assigned to India and the other
will be taken over by the Enterprise. The transfer of the data base of the
second site would be made without charge to the Enterprise. The cost to
India of mapping a total of 300,000 square kilometers of ocean floor is not
public information; however, The Statesman reported in November 1983
that "the country has already invested more than Rs 800 million ($80 mil-
lion) in exploring 2.6 million square kilometers [1.1 million square miles] of
the ocean floor." For a nation struggling so determinedly with poverty and
a low per capita income along with so many other diverse socio-economic
problems, such allocations of public funds are one of the clearest indicators
of the government's determination to industrialize and realize self-sufficiency
in metal supplies.
The relatively new administrative agencies established by New Delhi to
develop and manage its marine programs are expanding rapidly. In July
1981, Indian officials approved the formation of the Department of Ocean
Development (DOD), as well as a reorganization and expansion, but not
elimination, of the 17-year-old National Institute of Oceanography. Recent
press reports have stated that in the next several years the DOD expects to
include a staff of at least 3000 geologists and marine engineers, as well as an
undetermined number of support staff. Its 1983-84 budget has been placed
at $32 million, almost twice the previous year's allocation of $17 million,
albeit far less than the original DOD request of $45.35 million. The largest
segment of the funds appropriated, $14.5 million, has purchased additional
oceanographic vessels. Of the remaining funds, $9.6 million has been as-
signed to further explore the seabed in order to gain greater information
about the characteristics of prime nodule locations, and the remaining $7.9
million for unspecified but necessary administrative costs.32
These are yearly appropriation figures. As a line item of the country's
Sixth Five Year Plan (1980-85), New Delhi authorized the expenditures of
Rs 1 billion ($100 million) for "major oceanographic facilities," a figure
that the Indian press once characterized as "only a fraction of what the entire
project is estimated to cost."33 The Seventh Five Year Plan (1985-90) cur-
rently is being debated and allocations determined. When made public, it is
very likely that the DOD will receive a percentage increase as great as, if
not greater than, any of India's other leading public financed endeavors.
These costs must be considered as first-stage expenditures. If India's
mining of the seabed program is to be successful, much greater allocations
must follow. As reported, the Indian government has entered into contractual
arrangements with West Germany34 and the Netherlands35 to acquire vessels
built in those countries in order to accelerate the tempo of its exploration
efforts. Also reported are plans for construction of land facilities capable of
processing 10,000 tons of nodules daily, the amount estimated to be needed
to operate a commercially successful operation.36
India's most generous financial commitment to nodule mining indicates
the paucity of the country's present metal and mineral inventory. Currently
India imports 60 percent of its copper requirements, a figure that is likely
to increase as local mines are depleted and as the expanding economy grows
more metal intensive. India's small supply of manganese—another metal es-
sential to a modern, high-technology economy—is inadequate for the coun-
try's anticipated industrial expansion. Also, India lacks nickel and cobalt.
By undertaking a mining program at a seabed site while comparable
operations are being conducted simultaneously at offshore locations in its

territorial sea and/or EEZ, India probably will realize three highly desired
national goals. First, it will cut down significantly the expenditure of na-
tional funds on imported metals and minerals. Second, India will be assured
of a nearly inexhaustible supply of these key elements, a factor that will
greatly advance the national drive toward self-sufficiency and maximum re-
liance on local resources exploited by Indian nationals. Finally, by attaining
recognition of its pioneer investor status and thereafter developing a seabed
mining industry, India will demonstrate strikingly its regional and global
leadership in science and technology.
One undeniable conclusion arises from the foregoing survey: Based on
the scope and goals of its programs, India is not a typical developing nation
insofar as seabed mining is concerned. One must consider the billions of
rupees of public funds expended by New Delhi to be competitive with West-
ern mining consortia;37 one must also consider the all-but-certain future
allocations that will be made. Indian leaders are being shortsighted if they
continue to regard their country as a typical Third World nation as far as
this particular, ultra-sophisticated emerging industry is concerned. More accu-
rately, India is a newly industrializing country.
If the foregoing analysis is correct, then there is good reason to question
India's support for the provisions of Part 11 of LOSC. For example, every
developing state in the world, except India, someday can expect to realize—
cost free—material benefits from the Enterprise's mining operations, opera-
tions that will be based on the initiative, creativity, and venture capital of
leading industrial nations of the West and India. It never will be one of
these beneficiaries because its financial/personnel commitment to a national
seabed mining operation in no way resembles the policy of any other Third
World state. The input of all but a very few other developing states will be
nil, but India is expected to spend as much as $1.5 billion of public treasury
funds to bring each of its central Indian Ocean sites into full operation. Such
monetary outlay of public funds places India in an ambiguous position: It is
a developing nation, but in this ocean mining industry India is spending and
behaving like an industrialized state.38
Expressed somewhat differently, India decided as early as 1981 that it
would undertake a very expensive program of oceanic exploration and nodule
exploitation. At some point during the last two years, the nation's total cost
of seabed operations—including funds allocated, personnel assigned to DOD
and related marine agencies, and vessels and on-land facilities—began to
resemble comparable outlays of foreign private corporations engaged in the
same marine technology.
As India becomes more active and involved in seabed mining, its na-
tional policy goals and its position regarding Part 11 of the LOSC are less
likely to match the perspective of other Third World states. As has been cited,
an Indian-researched site of 150,000 kilometers of the ocean will be trans-
ferred to the Enterprise without charge. An even more costly and compli-
cated issue may arise in the future. If LOSC comes into force, the Enterprise
will have the right to require licensee-miners to make transfers of technology.
India could easily be a leading candidate to be selected to make such tech-
nology transfers.
According to leading Indian papers, the DOD has agreed with foreign
corporations to work jointly with Indian personnel to develop the machinery
and instruments necessary for successful seabed operations. For example, the
DOD is known to have under consideration a program that will give India
the technology to construct in local shipyards a number of foreign-designed
submersibles that are essential for nodule recovery. Such arrangements have
been a common practice in India's industrial history and a prime reason for
the country's economic strength. If the submersible program becomes opera-
tional, Indian scientists and related experts may be expected in due time to
improve the vessel and to become state-of-the-art inventors and developers in
their own right. Thus, a foreign-designed, foreign-equipped vessel may even-
tually be superseded by a submersible that is distinctly Indian and has cost
the Indian taxpayers heavily.
The history of India's program to refine and upgrade the British-designed
Leander frigate is a case in point. The keel of the first locally constructed
version, the I.N.S. Nilgiri, was laid in 1966 at Mazagon Docks, Bombay. In
structure, in instrumentation, and in military performance this vessel bears
little similarity to the 1980 version, the I.N.S. Vindhyagiri, or to the more
recent frigates of the Godavari class.
The issue of India's improvements of foreign purchased technology has
been addressed by V. V. Eswaran. Regarding the country's goal of industrial
self-sufficiency as applied to its seabed mining programs, he said, in part:
To be self-reliant, such technologies have to be largely developed, tested
and operated indigenously. Technologies relating to instrumentation, div-
ing systems, position fixing and position maintenance, materials develop-
ment, oceanic data collective devices, anti-corrosion capabilities, submers-
ibles, energy and energy saving devices are priority items [for Indians
themselves to perfect and/or develop].39
Under proposed LOSC provisions, it will be recalled, the Enterprise will

have the right to call upon New Delhi to transfer Indian technology con-
sidered desirable by Enterprise officials if such technology or equally efficient
and useful technology is not available on the open market and if there is no
legal impediment to such a transfer. The LOSC stipulates "a fair and reason-
able" fee be paid for the transferred technology; but it should be noted that
considerable disagreement almost invariably arises between disputant parties
when this standard is applied. There is little reason to believe that the trans-
fer of nodule mining technology would proceed without such conflict. India's
monetary loss, if such an Enterprise-instigated transfer took place, could be
substantial. Equally severe could be the loss of India's property rights and
commercial advantage.
Modifying the Common-Heritage Concept

In 1980, the United States passed the Deep Seabed Hard Mineral Resource
Act. While it was called an "interim measure," this legislation signaled U.S.
disenchantment with the proposed provisions of the ISA regime and with
proposed American obligations to the Enterprise and its future operations. It
also served as notice of U.S. determination to protect the rights and invest-
ments of domestic corporations that had invested in exploratory seabed min-
ing ventures. The act defined the rules and regulations that were to apply to
American nationals (corporations included) engaged in high-sea nodule min-
ing. West Germany, Great Britain, France, Japan, and a number of less
prominent, sea-oriented industrial states acted in a similar fashion. That is,
the domestic legislation of each of these countries was deliberately drafted to
match the American law; therefore, currently there is in force what is gener-
ally designated as a seabed mining mini-treaty, or Reciprocating States
Regime (RSR).
The RSR, as might be predicted, protects both the mining rights of the
corporate investor as well as all property rights. The regime thus offers sub-
stantial assurance that corporate investors will be able to conduct mining
operations without being encumbered with obligatory loans to an interna-
tional agency, mandatory transfers of technology, and the like. In essence,
RSR establishes a traditional commercial arrangement whereby national
mining corporations are licensed and required to conduct operations beyond
national jurisdiction according to time-tested rules and regulations. The cor-
porate-licensees, in turn, are taxed for the right to engage in seabed mining,
but the designated levy is extremely modest. Miners must pay their national
governments a 3.75 percent tax on the value of all nodules recovered or, if
that value cannot be determined, a 0.75 percent tax on the value of the
metals processed from the nodules.
Further, the RSR specifies that if the LOSC comes into force, the licens-
ing state will be required to transfer all collected fees to the ISA for dis-
tribution. On the other hand, if the LOSC is not made operative, the funds
will be distributed according to the preferences of each mining state. Only
the West German legislation stipulates that such money be ear-marked to aid
developing nations.40
It has been estimated that between 5 and 10 years will pass before the
fate of LOSC ultimately is determined, and no one can predict with any cer-
tainty whether it will come into force or not. But the next decade promises
to be one during which Third World states will be calling for development
loans, gifts, and grants from the industrialized states and/or from interna-
tional monetary agencies. If the inequities between the developed and under-
developed world are not to grow more severe, greater success than in the past
must be realized in meeting the funding requests of the Third World. Gov-
ernments, such as the United States, committed to the progress and modern-
ization of the underdeveloped nations should examine the common-heritage-
of-mankind concept once again in order to determine if it cannot be applied
more judiciously and more successfully than was done in Part 11 of the
LOSC.
The principles incorporated in the RSR arrangement, if modified some-
what, suggest an appropriate course of action: The RSR relies on sovereignty
and is attentive to the demands of international corporations engaged in
risky capital-intensive ventures. With a nominal amount of revisions, this
regime could be broadened to apply the common-heritage-of-mankind con-
cept to the deep-seabed mining activities of all participating states. In its
most basic outline, an amended RSR would set up an authority with the right
to collect fees at three levels. First, it would have authority to grant explora-
tory licenses to interested parties, granting them prospecting rights prior to
auction. When sufficient time had passed for determining the nodule reserves
in a designate site, the RSR authority would hold a public auction for the
right to prospect for the nodules. The successful bidder, after paying an
exclusive prospecting fee, would have a legally protected license to establish
operations within the designated area for a predetermined number of years.
The licensee-miner would be appropriately and sufficiently taxed for every
ton of nodules recovered from the seabed floor, such taxes being due when
the vessel transporting the nodules reached its home port or first port of call.
In its determination of the royalty levy, the authority should take into con-
sideration the market limits on new sources of production. Finally and central
to the theme of this paper, on an annual or semi-annual basis, the authority
would be required to turn over a minimum of 50 percent of all such collected
funds to a board or committee made up exclusively of developing states. In
turn, the developing states would distribute the funds to whatever countries
and in whatever amounts the board considered wise and prudent. Such an
arrangement would generate funds for the developing states almost as soon
as deep-seabed mining operations got under way, in amounts directly related
to the quantities recovered.*1
Thus, Nixon's 1970 proposal for distributing profits from maritime com-
mon space suggests a standard for benefiting Third World states that is
worthy of reexamination. States that participated in the updated RSR re-
gime—and, hopefully, India would be one—would give new, realistic mean-
ing to the common-heritage-of-mankind concept, and, as the next section will
explain, this may be carried over and be applied to the future development
of Antarctica.
The Antarctic Treaty
In February 1956, when Arthur Lall was Permanent Representative of India

to the United Nations, he circulated a memorandum proposing that the Gen-
eral Assembly examine the feasibility of neutralizing the entire continent of
Antarctica and utilizing its resources for the benefit of the entire world. Un-
less prompt and imaginative action was initiated, he argued, the continent was
most likely to become an area of American-Soviet rivalry and tension, pos-
sibly a site for nuclear weapons testing.42 The Lall memorandum was the first
statement made by a public official asserting that Antarctica was a potential
trouble spot that required the Assembly's consideration. Because of Wash-
ington's opposition, as well as that of several Latin American states, the Lall
proposal ultimately was withdrawn and the Antarctica issue languished for
27 years before it finally was put on the agenda of the General Assembly.
Although the Eisenhower Administration was opposed to a U.N. discus-
sion on the future of Antarctica, it was neither indifferent nor unresponsive
to the issues raised by Ambassador Lall. In 1958, only two years after oppos-
ing action in the General Assembly, the State Department invited the seven
states asserting territorial claims to Antarctica (Argentina, Australia, Chile,
France, New Zealand, Norway, and Great Britain), plus the four states en-
gaged in scientific work there (Belgium, Japan, South Africa, and the Soviet
Union), to join the United States in drafting a treaty that would ensure the
preservation of the polar continent as an international laboratory for scien-
tific research and peaceful purposes, an area of 5.5 million square miles and
larger than India and China put together.43
India was not invited to the Washington meeting, as Ambassador Lall
regretfully notes in his recent summary of his early contribution to the genesis
of the Antarctic Treaty. Rightfully, he chides the State Department for lifting
"parts of my own explanatory memorandum to the UN General Assembly
without, of course, quotation marks or any other acknowledgement of my
penmanship."44 Nevertheless, the meeting of the 12 invited states did take
place and was a success.
Since becoming operative in 1961, when it was ratified by all original
initiating states—now designated as the Consultative Parties—the convention
has succeeded beyond all expectations in implementing its three designated,
principal objectives.45 The continent remains demilitarized: No military base
or fortification has been located on Antarctica and there never has been a
military maneuver conducted on land or in its adjacent waters. Second, an
extensive program of peaceful scientific investigation and cooperation has
been carried out that has amassed very large quantities of information regard-
ing the continent's ecological system. Third, the several countries making
territorial claims—some claims competing, all claims a potential source of
international conflict—have not pressed their respective causes. Without
prejudicing any of the rights of claimant states or narrowing their differences
in any way, the treaty put aside the entire territorial issue until 1991 at the
earliest.
Several other features of the Antarctic Treaty are germane to American-
Indian economic relations. All recommendations and programs of the Con-
sultative Parties are realized by consensus.46 The older Consultative Parties
expect a newly admitted member state to approve of the recommendations
previously agreed to and operative. Finally, although the treaty applies to
the area south of the 60° parallel, including the ice shelves, it makes no
provision for setting up an EEZ or for including other offshore rights and
duties of a littoral that are found in the LOSC.
Today Antarctica looks forward to an economic development program

not imagined when the 1959 treaty was first drafted. A growing body of evi-
dence suggests that the continent proper or its immediate offshore waters
contain the world's greatest undiscovered, unrecovered storehouse of mineral
and energy resources. In 1979, for example, an official of a leading American
oil corporation stated that he believed there might be 50 billion barrels of oil
there, an amount comparable to the reserves of Saudi Arabia.47 Another
source predicted that as much as 115 trillion cubic feet of natural gas would
be discovered on the shelf. Still others have spoken with considerable convic-
tion of the probability of recovering coal, iron ore, uranium, gold, lead, co-
balt, silver, and titanium on the Antarctic continent.48
To date, none of these forecasts have materialized and, although earlier
optimism has waned, the world's scientific community continues to expect
significant discoveries. However, most experts also call attention to the fact
that there is no technology currently available that could make commercial
exploitation of such geographically inhospitable mineral and energy resources
feasible for approximately 15 to 25 years. But oceanographic and seismic
work conducted by some of the world's most aggressive petroleum corpora-
tions throughout the region is an additional indication of the anticipated
resource wealth of the continent. "All this activity would not be taking
place," a former British diplomat has observed, "in the absence of a real pos-
sibility of major oil and gas finds."49
The possible discovery of polar minerals inspires great speculation, but
there is no question whatsoever regarding the abundance of Antarctica's liv-
ing marine resources. In 1977, its surrounding waters were estimated to be
four times more productive of fish reserves than any other comparable
marine area in the world.50 Antarctica's seals, whales, and squid are well-
established economic assets, and the fishing fleets of a number of states long
have been active in local waters. Leading the list of the most intriguing, as
yet unexploited, new food source is krill, a 2-inch-long crustacean. It physi-
cally resembles shrimp, feeds on diatoms and other phytoplankton, and is
basic to the marine food chain of the entire area and beyond. Nutritionists
have determined that krill contains roughly the same protein content by net
weight as beefsteak or lobster. Because of its super-abundance in offshore
waters, it has stimulated considerable global interest regarding all aspects of
its life cycle as well as the most promising processes for its commercial ex-
ploitation. Such unusual interest in krill is understandable since some believe
that a sustainable krill recovery on an annual basis could double the world's
total marine harvest, thus making available 70 to 150 tons of edible fish.
Because it is not yet known exactly how many tons of krill can be harvested
yearly without endangering the species or threatening the well-being of other,
higher forms of local marine life, a reasonably modest krill fishing program
currently is in force. The FAO's 1984 Yearbook of Fishery Statistics high-
lights how aggressive the fleets of the Soviet Union and Japan have been in
harvesting Antarctic krill. For example, in two of the leading areas of krill
fishing in Antarctica, the Soviets in 1984 reported a total catch of 74,366
metric tons. In the same two areas, Japan harvested 49,145 metric tons. Offi-
cials of the fishing industry in both capitals have said that their respective
catches would be significantly greater if and when technicians learned how
to process and market krill for general consumption and the public came to
appreciate its high protein characteristics.51
As has been made public, the Consultative Parties discussed in their
closed meetings for several years the questions of both mineral and living
marine resources in an attempt to determine policies that would safeguard
the continent's potential wealth as well as protect its ecosystem. Responding
first to the more immediate problem of developing new food supplies for the
world, they concluded in 1980 a Convention on the Conservation of Ant-
arctic Marine Living Resources, which became operative in April 1982.52
The Parties agreed that they would (1) prevent a decrease in the size of any
harvested population of fish to unstable levels; (2) maintain the ecological
relationship between harvested, dependent, and related populations of Ant-
arctica's living resources; and (3) prevent change or minimize irreversible
risks to the marine ecosystem. In order to implement these objectives, the
Consultative Parties authorized the creation of a Commission for the Con-
servation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources, headquartered at Hobart,
Tasmania. While the Commission's potential role in managing the continent's
living marine reserves is both extensive and important, it has only limited
powers to enforce compliance with a recommendation. A member state
unwilling to accept a particular recommendation of the Commission legally
is entitled to give notice within 90 days of its refusal to comply.
Presently under way are efforts to establish a comparable regime for the
continent's mineral and energy resources. In July 1981, the Consultative
Parties declared it a "matter of urgency" to conclude a convention that dealt
with land-located mineral and energy reserves along with those located in the
offshore waters. Accordingly, the Consultative Parties have held a series of
special meetings to draft a set of rules that will govern the exploration and
extraction of such resources yet ensure that the pristine environment of the
continent is disturbed minimally. Because all Consultative Party deliberations
are secret, the specifics for the mineral regime are not yet public.
In their substantive decisions as well as in the procedures they have em-
ployed, the Consultative Parties increasingly have displeased a number of
concerned, excluded nations. Particularly offended are a number of develop-
ing countries. Complaints were made at Law of the Sea negotiations and in
speeches in the General Assembly about the exclusivity of the Antarctic re-
gime and about the need to establish a more internationally democratic man-
agement for exploitation of the continent and its resources. To date, these
protests have not been acted on by the Consultative Parties. A more specific
complaint was included in the Economic Declaration that was issued at the
close of the summit of non-aligned nations in New Delhi in March 1983.
This resolution called on the General Assembly to undertake a comprehen-
sive study of Antarctica. Furthermore, the states insisted that "in the interest
of all mankind, Antarctica should continue forever to be used exclusively for
peaceful purposes, should not become the scene or object of international

discord and should be accessible to all nations." The resolution then con-
tinued: "They [the non-aligned nations] agreed that the exploration of its
resources shall be carried out for the benefit of all mankind, and in a manner
consistent with the protection of the environment of Antarctica."53
The next development was inevitable. Despite some opposition from the
Consultative Parties, the General Assembly agreed in September 1983 that
the item "Question of Antarctica" should be considered by the First Com-
mittee. The topic was debated, with a lack of enthusiasm by several Consul-
tative Parties still much in evidence. The Committee nevertheless passed a
resolution requesting that the Secretary General prepare for the next session
of the General Assembly (September 1984) a comprehensive, factual, and
objective study of Antarctica. Thus, 27 years after Ambassador Lall first
attempted to introduce the question of Antarctica, the continent and the
regime created as a result of the 1959 treaty became a concern of the United
Nations.54
India and Antarctica

Under the provisions of the 1959 treaty, Consultative Party status is open to
a new state that has demonstrated "substantial scientific research activity" on
the continent. In August 1983, the government of India not only adhered to
the treaty but applied for and was granted Consultative Party status the fol-
lowing month. The distinction accorded India, the first Third World state to
conduct the stipulated level of scientific work on the continent, was a result
of the two expeditions sent to the Queen Maude sector by the DOD and from
India's decision to establish a permanent manned scientific weather station
there. Once admitted as a Consultative Party, India joined the 15 other
signatory states that collectively have the power to manage the continent's
affairs and to decide by consensus on the rules that will determine its future.
The press has reported that Indian officials have participated in Consulta-
tive Party meetings since its September 1983 election, but New Delhi's
specific policy positions on nearly all agenda items remain unclear at this
time. Because discussions of the 16-member group are closed to the media,
there has been considerable public speculation about New Delhi's views on
pending issues, particularly its stand on applying the common-heritage-of-
mankind concept to the resources of Antarctica. One Indian commentator
has suggested that the government ought to apply the concept in a very lib-
eral fashion, implying that the provisions written into Part 11 of the LOSC
should be used as the model. Discussing possible policy alternatives the coun-
try's representative should take at Consultative Party meetings, he argued,
"The role of India as a representative of the Third World Countries is to
establish the principle of 'Common Heritage of Mankind,' not to make special
claims."55 More revealing of the government's hesitation to commit itself on
this issue, however, were the remarks of India's representative at the United
Nations' First Committee meetings when the "Question of Antarctica" was
discussed in late November 1983. He summarized India's long-standing con-

cern for developing Antarctica's potential; he pledged to the Secretary
General India's full cooperation in carrying out the proposed study of the
continent; and he assured the delegates of his country's future commitment
to Antarctica affairs. However, unlike most other Third World diplomats
who spoke, India's representative avoided any mention whatsoever of the
desirability of applying the common-heritage concept to the case of Ant-
arctica.56 The omission did not go unnoticed in capitals of the other Con-
sultative Party states as well as those of the third world.
Except for indirect signals in the form of statements concerning its fishing
plans in the Antarctic, 57 India continued to maintain a posture of calculated
ambiguity throughout the Indira Gandhi period. Mrs. Gandhi spoke publicly
only once about India's emerging role and responsibilities in the Antarctica
system. Addressing the issue of the future development of the continent,
she was quoted as declaring that "there is no reason why part of the world
should be reserved for rich nations."58 Her comment was interpreted by
some as notification that her government intended to challenge the entire
1961 treaty arrangement. Others, more favorable to the existing system,
maintained that the prime minister was serving notice that India planned to
assume its rightful place as an Antarctica power.
The administration of Rajiv Gandhi had assumed power when the First
Committee (Political and Security) of the United Nations began in late
November and early December 1984 the first of five sessions devoted to the
Antarctic Treaty. For many Third World states, the key issue was whether
New Delhi would speak in favor of applying the common heritage principle
to the continent's mineral and marine resources and argue that the current
arrangement was discriminatory in nature.
In the First Committee debate, India's position became known when it
joined all other Consultative Treaty Parties in refusing to participate in the
discussion of the two key pending resolutions. The first resolution called for
the updating and expansion of the United Nations' study on Antarctica; the
second resolution dealt with inviting the Consultative Parties to set up a
minerals regime. One section of the latter resolution called for the interna-
tional management and equitable sharing of the benefits of exploiting the
continent's resources, that is, for application of the common heritage prin-
ciple. In explaining India's non-participation, its delegate announced that
New Delhi was opposed to all initiatives to revise the Antarctic Treaty or
to drastically alter its format; such changes were unnecessary and would lead
to international discord, as well as revive disputes concerning conflicting
territorial claims. The Indian government preferred to consider the Antarc-
tica system as an evolving arrangement whose structural and organizational
framework could and should be applied in a flexible manner.
The states that found the existing system unacceptable and called for its
dismantlement did not respond publicly to India's new conservatism, but it is
not too difficult to imagine their disappointment. In any event, in December
\ 985, India did break ranks with the other Consultative Parties when it voted
in favor of South Africa's exclusion from participation in the meetings of the

Consultative Parties. Here India was joined by China, also a Consultative
Party. It was the first time since the Antarctica question was placed on the
agenda of the United Nations some three years earlier that there was a lack
of consensus on the issue.
At this writing, many questions remain unclear about India's future in
the Antarctica system. At meetings of the Consultative Parties, decisions are
reached by consensus so that the policy positions taken by India regarding
Antarctica have global significance. New Delhi appears to have decided not
to be the leading spokesman for the common heritage principle insofar as
the exploitation of Antarctica's resources are concerned, but rather to sup-
port more traditional, economically sound, and tested principles of develop-
ment. This could mean that reaching consensus in future Consultative Party
meetings will be far less difficult than would have otherwise been the case.
An LOSC-Antarctica Linkage
The debate already is under way as to whether to apply the common-heritage-
of-mankind concept liberally or conservatively to programs to exploit the
resources of Antarctica.59 If the Consultative Parties are pressed to favor an
approach similar to the provisions written for the LOSC-Enterprise, there is,
without question, going to be a hopeless deadlock in their discussions, one
that could bring about the collapse of the Antarctic regime. With the Reagan
Administration's policy stand on the LOSC in mind, it is a reasonable
assumption that the United States will be among the leading opponents to
such an approach, and for reasons similar to those offered when Washington
declined to sign the Law of the Sea Convention.
Billions of dollars will be required to invent and perfect the techniques
necessary for the recovery, processing, and distribution of the various re-
sources found on or about Antarctica. The head of the Juridical Department
of the French Ministry of External Relations, Mr. Gilbert Guillaume, called
attention to this issue when he stated in February 1984 in New Delhi that,
at present, the technology required for commercial exploitation of the con-
tinent's mineral and energy wealth does not exist.60 Also, Antarctica's cli-
mate and working conditions are as inhospitable as any in the world; there-
fore, the amount of investment capital needed to establish a working oil field
or coal mine will be extremely high. A corporate investor that undertakes
such projects must be prepared to accept the risks of such high-cost ventures
and have sufficient resources to carry out its programs. It is most unlikely that
such an investor would agree to commit funds if the operation was burdened
with the provisions of Part 11. Corporate officials contemplating such pro-
grams almost certainly would insist on greater security and protection of their
venture capital than provided for by an Enterprise-type regime.
On the other hand, if the Consultative Parties unanimously agree to a
more conservative, business-like application of the common-heritage idea,
then their decision could enable the developing states to realize Antarctica-
generated development funds. More specifically, an Antarctic authority that

assumed jurisdictional control over all the continent's resources—mineral
and living marine—below the 60° parallel could negotiate with interested
parties for the right to explore and exploit such potential wealth. It could
levy fees and royalty taxes for such rights provided they were not destructive
to the investment capital. Such an Antarctic authority would be required to
distribute a minimum of 50 percent of all collected funds to the developing
states, such distribution again to be according to the decisions of the Third
World states.
The fate of the Antarctic Treaty could well be decided within the coming
five years. The present arrangement obviously has not satisfied the aspirations
of some governments, particularly those committed to a centrally planned
and managed world economy. Nevertheless, the Consultative Parties have so
far successfully divorced the continent from the East-West arms race, frozen
the potentially disruptive territorial claims, and made immeasurable contribu-
tions to the world's scientific knowledge. This impressive 24-year-old record
of the Antarctic Treaty should not be dismissed lightly. As the Australian
Delegate to the 1983 Consultative Party conference observed:
We have no problem at all with . . . the need to ensure that activities car-
ried out in Antarctica are for the benefit and in the interest of mankind as
a whole, but this must be achieved by building on the Antarctic Treaty and
the system of measures, instruments and actions in furtherance of it and
not by beginning from scratch, or trying to begin from scratch, with some
new instruments.61
Redesigning the "Common Heritage" Concept
A revolutionary international proposal, fundamentally meritorious and timely,

albeit too far-reaching in its application, should not be discarded because it
failed the first time it was applied by states championing its adoption. Twen-
tieth-century foreign relations are replete with novel policy suggestions that
initially were rejected. After being reinterpreted and amended to reflect more
accurately global political and economic conditions, sometimes the revised
proposal won sufficient international approval to come into force.
The common-heritage-of-mankind concept may be such a proposal. The
time may be propitious for states committed to the economic development
of Third World nations to come forward with a more limited, functional
application of the distribution of profits from the exploitation of the resources
of common space. Such a revision would have to be (1) more responsive
to the legitimate prerequisites of entrepreneurial capital, whether from the
private or public sector, and (2) less threatening to the concept of state
sovereignty and a state's rights and duties in today's international system.
Applying these observations to the future of deep-seabed mining of poly-
metallic nodules and also future Antarctica development, three conclusions
follow from the material presented.
First, economic progress in developing states is best ensured and the

prospects for industrial-agricultural modernization most sanguine if such
governments receive continuing, substantial funds for projects that they deter-
mine will advance their national interests. It cannot be stated too often:
Funding is the all-important, key factor in helping to build a sound and
solid economic foundation and reduce the disparity in the standards of living
currently prevailing in different parts of the world. If developmental funds
are unavailable, insufficient, or vary greatly from year to year, then the Third
World's varied programs must be cut back, if not discontinued. Therefore,
the principal objective of any new application of the common-heritage con-
cept must be designed to distribute the greatest possible amount of money to
developing nations while keeping administrative and bureaucratic costs to a
minimum, and to do so in a politically acceptable manner to the international
community of sovereign states.
Second, some current arguments put forth by developing states concern-
ing the need for technological transfers appear to lack relevance. With some
exceptions, developing states appear to have only a remote, tangential need
to gain access to extremely sophisticated, exotic state-of-the-art technologies,
particularly those technologies awaiting invention and relating to speculative
ventures that could prove to be commercial disasters. Governments pressing
for the mandatory sharing of super-modern technologies within the context
of a transnational regime may act from motives they regard as enlightened
internationalism, but it is doubtful that practical business considerations have
been given comparable weight. The scientific and technological goals of the
developing states should be of a modest nature. Their individual or collective
modernization policies do not appear to be much advanced if the overall
project is based on unprecedented concessions from the industrial states,
leading ones of which are opposed to the proposed arrangement.
Industrialization and modernization are processes marked by a distinc-
tive tempo. During the past century, many nation-states have moved success-
fully from backwardness and poverty to positions of economic strength and
industrial growth. They have succeeded, in part, because they have favored
domestic economic policies that reflected a well-conceived, orderly evolution.
The speed of industrialization and modernization can be accelerated consid-
erably with the help of outside aid, and the so-called leapfrogging principle
of economic development may be applied with dramatic results; yet, there
still remain innumerable slowly changing, local limitations that help deter-
mine a society's advancement. For example, infrastructure deficiencies, per-
sonnel gaps, and cultural restrictions may require gradual modifications or
corrections. There exists a built-in logic of modernization. A nation or group
of nations that disregards this logic and tries to race ahead toward develop-
mental goals not commensurate with its current level of progress or main-
tains that the traditional tempo of modernization is out of fashion in today's
nuclear world faces great domestic disappointments, failures, or loss of in-
come, or all three.
Specifically, the most prudent course for Indian Ocean coastal states may
be to work individually and collectively to develop modern, mechanized

fishing vessels while at the same time helping traditional fishermen become
more efficient and better informed about local maritime conditions. Such a
policy would allow Indian Ocean fisheries to exploit the maritime areas under
national jurisdiction and to begin to realize immediate economic benefits. On
the other hand, any government that expects Enterprise-like operations to
generate profits that will be distributed for modernization projects may have
to wait years; worse, profits may be entirely illusory. These states have a
great need for immediate funds and aid, and encouragement should be given
to policies that will increase the annual fish harvests of EEZ areas. Interna-
tional programs calling for the redistribution of wealth via transnational
agencies that are based on questionable economic concepts are far less likely
to receive funding and the backing of key industrial states than development
plans designed to produce new wealth.
Third, the international system continues to be made up of sovereign
state actors. This may be disconcerting to those who work to redefine the
United Nations and its associated bodies into a growing transnational system
empowered to facilitate the redistribution of wealth among the developed
and developing states. International organization today bears no similarity to
a federal government in which the national legislature has the constitutional
right to determine and enforce policies for the common good. As has been
true for the preceding 300 years, and probably will remain true far into the
future, the national interest of a sovereign state, unilaterally determined, will
be the ultimate standard by which that state will accept or reject a proposal.
In the General Assembly or in the course of diplomatic negotiations, a gov-
ernment may decide whether to vote in favor of or against a pending resolu-
tion or a proposed treaty provision on the basis of what is fashionable,
timely, or in accordance with previously determined group principles. How-
ever, it invariably decides whether to implement the resolution or to ratify
the convention on the basis of self-interest.
Non-traditional global or regional systems of international organization
therefore need to be responsive to traditional norms of sovereignty. They
need to be formulated and applied in such a manner that they do not
threaten the values and practices of the sovereign state in commerce and
finance, as in all other areas of state interaction.
Notes
1. For text, see The Law of the Sea: United Nations Convention on the Law
of the Sea (New York: United Nations, 1983).
2. Mauritius announced in June 1984 that it would not ratify the LOSC.
3. See Wil D. Verwey, "The New Law of the Sea and the Establishment of a
New International Economic Order: The Role of the Exclusive Economic Zone,"
Indian Journal of International Law 21, 3 (July—September 1981), pp. 387-423.
4. "The estimates of potential fish yield from the Indian Ocean vary from
about 7 million to 17 million tons. Of this potential, India's contribution is ex-

pected to be of the order of 5-9 million tons. Thus a four-to-sixfold increase over
the existing production is envisaged." See S. Z. Qasim, "A Technological Forecast
of Ocean Research and Development in India," Impact of Science on Society,
Nos. 3-4 (1983), p. 467.
5. The Fishing Industry in the Indian Ocean: Special Report (Paris: The In-
dian Ocean Newsletter, June 6, 1984). Also see issues of July 7 and July 21, 1984,
for concluding sections of the Report. See also Elizabeth Cheng, "Underpaid,
Second-Class Citizens—That's Fishermen," Far Eastern Economic Review 125,
31 (August 2, 1984), pp. 35-57.
6. Theodore L. Stoddard et al., Area Handbook for the Indian Ocean Terri-
tories (Washington, B.C.: Government Printing Office, 1971), pp. 69-70. Also
see the 1982 edition, Frederica M. Bunge, ed., Indian Ocean: Five Island Countries,
which states (p. 216), "The immense fish resources estimated to lie in and around
the nation's self-proclaimed 200-nautical mile EEZ were virtually untapped by
Seychelles."
7. The Fishing Industry in the Indian Ocean: Special Report (Paris: The In-
dian Ocean Newsletter, July 7, 1984), p. 8.
8. Qasim, op. cit., p. 467, states that the estimated fish production from India's
EEZ is expected to be about 3 million tons. He then adds, "The projected fish re-
quirements of India's population by the year 2000 are estimated to be 11.4 mil-
lion tons. Of this, 60-75 percent is expected to come from the sea and the rest
from fresh water sources."
9. Rahmatullah Khan, "Ocean Resources Development—India's Options,"
Indian Journal of International Law 22, 4 (July-December 1982), p. 451.
10. "A Poor Catch," India Today, July 31, 1983, p. 108. Also see the remarks
of Agriculture Minister Rao Birendra Singh at the first all-India conference of
maritime states and Union territories at Hyderabad on June 26, 1983, when he
"lamented that although India, with its long coastline, had the potential to become
a major maritime country, the vast marine resources remained largely unexplored
and unexploited." The Statesman, June 27, 1983, p. 11.
11. "India Big Shrimp Exporter," India Abroad, August 10, 1984, p. 4.
12. Ibid. Also see "Dangerous Dependence," India Today, December 15, 1983,
p. 129.
13. Khan, op. cit., p. 452.
14. Ibid., p. 451.
15. There is growing evidence that regional countries will cooperate in fishery
development and extension programs. In September 1984, seven Bay of Bengal
littoral states (Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Maldives, Thailand, Indonesia, India, and
Malaysia) held a five-day meeting at Bangkok to discuss common programs to
improve harvests.
16. The Statesman, May 22, 1983, p. 7.
17. See Mohan Ram, "India's Lonely Oil Search," Far Eastern Economic
Review 116, 15 (April 9, 1982), p. 66; Mohan Ram, "Hounded by Bad Luck,"
Far Eastern Economic Review 119, 74 (March 3, 1983), p. 9; Jon Sikes and
Patrick Smith, "Oil Exploration," Far Eastern Economic Review 121, 37 (August
25, 1983), pp. 39-78; Meenakshi Behara, "Ready for an Oil Rush," Far Eastern
Economic Review 123, 1 (Januarys, 1984), pp. 50-51.
18. See "India, Indonesia and Thailand Sign Agreements on Seabed Bound-
aries," Indian & Foreign Review, July 1, 1978, p. 7.
19. See, for example, "No, Man, It's My Island," Time, December 26, 1977,
p. 32, and Foreign Report, September 15, 1983, p. 6.
20. See Arvid Pardo, "Future Prospects for Law of the Sea," Oceans: Our
Continuing Frontier, H. William Menard and Jane L. Scheiber, eds. (Del Mar,
California: Publisher's Inc., 1976), p. 227.
21. Ann L. Hollick, "The Law of the Sea and U.S. Policy Initiatives," Orbis
15, 2 (Summer 1971), pp. 670-686.
22. Not even the International Atomic Energy Agency's powers are as exten-
sive as those granted the Enterprise, and it, since the mid-1950s, has been con-
sidered the organization with the widest range of functions, limiting the sovereignty
of member states.
23. See R. R. Churchill and A. V. Lowe, The Law of the Sea (Manchester:
Manchester University Press, 1983), p. 170.
24. Ibid.
25. Department of State Bulletin 82, 2 (March 1982), pp. 54-55.
26. Ibid.
27. For a negative evaluation of NIEO and LOSC, see Richard J. Payne and
Jamal R. Nassar, "The New International Economic Order at Sea," Journal of
Developing Areas, No. 1 (October 1982), pp. 31-50.
28. The Moon Treaty stipulates that "for the purposes of this agreement, the
moon and its natural resources shall be considered the common heritage of man-
kind." See United Nations, General Assembly, A/34/20 Annex 2 (1979). For
background information on the stalled Moon Treaty, see "Tentative Draft Agree-
ment States Moon is Common Heritage of Mankind," UN Chronicle 15, 5 (May
1978), p. 25.
29. Whether or not India has nodules within its 200-mile EEZ appears to be
not yet determined with finality. An October 1982 statement of the Minister of
State for Science and Technology in the Rajya Sabha stated categorically that
nodules did not exist within the zone. See The Statesman, October 21, 1982, p. 10.
Other officials, however, recently have privately questioned the accuracy of this
determination and cite a number of foreign-made vessels that DOD is to acquire
that are specifically designed to operate within the EEZ.
30. India, however, soon may not be the only regional state to be engaged in
exploring for seabed nodules. According to the August 18, 1984, issue of The
Indian Ocean Newsletter, the Seychelles' government requested assistance from
the Soviet Union to "plan the development of the seabed and its other maritime re-
sources." In response, Moscow dispatched the R.V. Vinogradov, carrying 64 scien-
tists from 14 different Soviet institutes and universities, and a joint operation got
under way on August 2.
31. V. V. Eswaran, "India's Ocean Policy," Indian & Foreign Review, April
1, 1983, pp. 11-13.
32. See Department of Ocean Development, Press Release, June 14, 1983.
33. The Statesman, November 3, 1983, p. 12.
34. In June 1983, the West German-built vessel Sugar Kanya arrived at Bom-
bay and the following month began its research studies in the Arabian Sea. It is
described as costing $40 million and "one of the most modern oceanographic re-
search vessels with advanced facilities for working in various disciplines of ocean-
ography." See "Oceanography—Rapid Development in India," Indian & Foreign
Review, reprinted in India News, July 16, 1983, p. 4.
35. In January 1984, it was announced that India will acquire two coastal ves-
sels from the Netherlands for mineral exploration in its EEZ.
36. See M. K. Tikku, "Poor but Resourceful," Far Eastern Economic Review
117,28 (July 9, 1982), p. 54.
37. In discussing the overall cost to India of its seabed mining program, M. K.
Tikku, op. cit, p. 50, has written: "A major part of the estimated Rs 12 billion set
aside for infrastructure is to be spent on a decade-long program of building facili-
ties—offshore and on."
38. For a negative evaluation of the wisdom of India's seabed mining program,
see Khan, op. cit. He argues (p. 454) that "it is a certainty that deep seabed min-
ing technology is not going to be available for commercial transfer to the develop-
ing countries. In such circumstances, is it advisable for India to venture into the
ocean depths at great costs? Hardly."
39. Eswaran, op. cit., p. 13.
40. Churchill and Lowe, op. cit., pp. 173-174. For a recent survey of the
problems associated with seabed mining, see David L. Larson, "Deep Seabed Min-
ing: A Definition of the Problem," Ocean Development and International Law,
Vol. 17 (1986), pp. 271-294.
41. Others have examined the feasibility of alternate proposals for the common-
heritage-of-mankind concept. See Arvind Khilnani, "Fishery Resource Conflict
Resolution under Law of the Sea," Economic and Political Weekly 18, 24 (June
11, 1983), pp. 1049-1050.
42. Arthur Lall, The Emergence of Modern India (New York: Columbia
University Press, 1981), pp. 139-140.
43. See R. D. Hayton, "The Antarctic Settlement of 1959," American Journal
of International Law 54, 2 (1960), pp. 354 ff.
44. Lall, op. cit.
45. For text, see United Nations, Treaty Series, Vol. 402, No. 5778. (The
treaty entered into force on June 23, 1961.)
46. Concerning voting in Consultative Parties meetings, Finn Sollie has writ-
ten, "Recommendations adopted by Consultative Meetings . . . are mere recom-
mendations to the governments. They become effective if and when approved by all
parties with consultative status. Thus, the unanimity rule does apply to such mea-
sures. However, under the rules of procedure, adoption of recommendations at Con-
sultative Meetings requires a unanimous vote and consequently it is a rare event
indeed that an adopted recommendation is not subsequently approved. . . ."
"Trends and Prospects for Regimes for Living and Mineral Resources in Antarc-
tica" (Norway: The Fridtjof Nansen Foundation, 1978), p. 7 (mimeographed).
47. Barbara Mitchell, "The Politics of Antarctica," Environment 12, 1
(January-February 1980), p. 13.
48. For a recent survey of the continent and its resources, see Garry D.
McKenzie, "Geopolitical and Scientific Roles of the United States in Antarctica"
(Mershon Center, Ohio State University, October 1983) (mimeographed).
49. New York Times, October 15, 1982, p. 10.
50. See M. A. McWhinnie, "Marine Biology," in D. H. Eliot, ed. A Frame-
work for Assessing Environmental Impacts of Possible Antarctic Mineral Develop-
ment (Columbus, Ohio: Ohio State University Institute of Polar Studies, 1977),
p. 9.
51. Also see McKenzie, op. cit., p. 34. He also notes that "In 1977, the reported
catch by East Germany, Poland, and the USSR was about 280,000 tons."
52. For a discussion on the convention, see James N. Barnes' "The Emerging
Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources: An Attempt to Meet the New
Realities of Resource Exploitation in the Southern Ocean," The New Nationalism
and the Use of Common Spaces, Jonathan I. Charney, ed. (Totowa, New Jersey:
Allanheld, Osmun, 1982), pp. 239-275. Also see M. J. Peterson, "Antarctic Im-
plications of the New Law of the Sea," Ocean Development and International Law,
Vol. 16 (1985), pp. 137-170.
53. See letter request of Government of Malaysia and the Government of
Antigua and Barbuda to Secretary General Javier Perez de Cuellar, dated August
11, 1983, requesting inclusion in the agenda of the 38th General Assembly the sup-
plementary item "Antarctica," EK.42/83, p. 2.
54. See Peter J. Beck, "Antarctica: A Case for the UN?" The World Today
40, 4 (April 1984), pp. 165-172.
55. G. Oommen, "Antarctica Treaty: A Critique," Mainstream 21, 47 (July
23, 1983), p. 30.
56. United Nations, General Assembly, Question of Antarctica (A/C.1/38/
PV.44, November 29, 1984), pp. 3-5.
57. In September 1984, India announced that it would fish for krill for the
first time with the help of a special vessel to be acquired from Denmark. According
to the DOD announcement, the vessel is equipped with on-board deep-freeze
equipment and a processing factory. When an official of the National Institute of
Oceanography was questioned about the progress of the project in December 1986,
he stated that, although unexpected problems had arisen, he believed that positive
results would be forthcoming "before too many years."
58. See Oommen, op. cit., p. 30. When she addressed the Lok Sabha on Feb-
ruary 24, 1982, on the Antarctica issue, Mrs. Gandhi said, "We do not subscribe
to the view that only a few very rich countries have the right to such uninhabited
and other places." See Khan, op. cit., p. 456.
59. See, for example, K. S. R. Menon, "The Scramble for Antarctica," South,
April 1982, pp. 11-13, and "Icebox Hotting Up," The Economist, October 8,
1983, pp. 37-38.
60. Gilbert Guillaume, "La France et 1'Antarctique," address presented Feb-
ruary 15, 1984, New Delhi, by France's Director of Legal Affairs, Ministry of
Foreign Relations. Ministere des Relations Exterieures No. 283-DJ/JFD/VP/PI,
undated. Also see The Statesman, February 16, 1984.
61. United Nations, General Assembly, Question of Antarctica (A/C.1/38/
PV.45, November 30, 1984), p. 20.
TABLE 3.1. Maritime Claims
Area within 200 nmi coastal

Territorial sea Fishing zone zone (nmi2) [*includes
Country (nmi) (nmi) non-Indian Ocean coastline]
Australia 3 12 2,043,300*
Bahrain 3 3 1,500
Bangladesh 12 200 22,400
Burma 12 12 148,600
Comoros 12 12 undetermined
Egypt 12 12 50,600*
Ethiopia 12 12 22,100
French Territory of 12 12 1,800
the Afars and Issas
India 12 12 587,600
Indonesia 12 12 1,577,300*
Iran 12 50 45,400
Iraq 12 12 200
Israel 6 6 6,800*
lordan 3 3 200
Kenya 12 12 34,400
Kuwait 12 12 3,500
Madagascar 50 50 367,800
Malaysia 12 12 138,700*
Maldives 2.77-55.0 100-150 279,700
Mauritius 12 12 345,500
Mozambique 6 12 163,900
Oman 12 50 163,800
Pakistan 12 50 92,900
Qatar 3 3 7,000
Saudi Arabia 12 12 54,300
Seychelles 3 12 undetermined
Singapore 3 3 100
Somalia 200 200 228,300
South Africa 6 12 296,500*
Sri Lanka 12 12 150,900
Sudan 12 12 26,700
Tanzania 50 50 65,100
Thailand 12 12 94,700*
United Arab Emirates 3 and 12 3 and 12 17,300
Yemen (Aden) 12 12 160,500
Yemen (Sana) 12 12 9,900
Source: Indian Ocean Alias, Central Intelligence Agency, 1976, p. 12.
4
Emerging Economic Issues in
Indian Perspective
C. RAJA MOHAN
Surprisingly, while Indian observers have often questioned the American

strategic rationale for the projection of U.S. military forces in the Indian
Ocean, they have not challenged the American economic rationale. Indian
writings on the Indian Ocean region have often echoed the conventional
wisdom in the United States that "vital" economic interests in the region
necessitate the American military presence. Yet, closer examination leads
one to reconsider the related assumptions that the West is dependent on the
petroleum and strategic minerals of the region and that the security of the
sea lanes there is threatened.
After reviewing the emerging economic importance of the oceans for
mankind as a whole, this essay will assess potential conflicts over ocean re-
sources in the Indian Ocean and the Gulf. I will then examine the relation-
ship between seapower, strategy, and resources in the region, focusing espe-
cially on the issue of Gulf oil and U.S. security. One section analyzes in detail
the popular myths concerning U.S. dependence on the non-petroleum strate-
gic minerals of the region. Finally, I discuss Indian Ocean non-living ocean
resources and fisheries and the future economic exploitation of the Antarctic
in the context of India's ocean development policy.
The Future in the Oceans
Mankind appears all set to return to the primeval soup of the oceans, from
which its own biological evolution began.1 Since time immemorial, man has
168
Emerging Economic Issues: Indian Perspective 169
used seas as a source of food, as a means of communication and trade. How-

ever, it was only since the dawn of the renaissance and the age of discovery
that the world's oceans have begun to assume a significant role. The Euro-
pean search for spices and other exotic goods, the evolution of modern sea-
faring, and the "discovery" of new lands enormously enlarged the role of the
seas. The industrial revolution, the search for cheap raw materials and mar-
kets for industrial goods, the manifold increase in sea-borne trade, and the
colonization of non-European societies and siphoning off their surpluses
interacted with each other to tremendously enhance the role of sea and
seapower in history.
These now traditional uses of the sea are as a medium of trade and com-
merce, the military activity to protect them, a dumping ground for waste from
human habitations, a source of food through fishing, and a space for the pro-
jection of military power and browbeating of other nations. But the planet's
seascape—its economic character—and, consequently, the configuration of
its seapower might be in for rapid transformation. It appears that we are on
the verge of a veritable revolution in the way mankind interacts with the ocean
space of the planet. The cumulative advances in ocean sciences and engi-
neering have made this revolution possible. In at least three specific areas—
energy, food, and the extraction of minerals—the contours of the new uses
of oceans can be visualized.
In the energy sector, the increasing exploitation of hydrocarbons from
the sea is of course the most significant. Offshore oil development has steadily
inched forward from drilling in shallow coastal waters to the current depths
of up to 5000 feet. The production of offshore oil, too, has increased at a
steady pace. In 1969, the worldwide offshore crude production of about 2.26
billion barrels comprised nearly 15 percent of the total production. By 1980,
the world offshore production of crude rose to 5 billion barrels, or nearly 23
percent of the total. It is expected that most of the future discoveries of
hydrocarbons would either be in the sea or in hitherto unexplored Third
World regions. It has been estimated that by the end of this century, nearly
50 percent of the world's oil could be extracted from the seas.
Offshore hydrocarbons are associated chiefly with the continental margins
that constitute 25 percent of the total ocean area. And the exploitation of
this offshore oil is knowledge-intensive. A comprehensive understanding of
the ocean environment and its effect on marine operations, equipment, and
permanent structures is essential to carry out offshore exploration, drilling,
and production activities. Offshore oil extraction is dependent on a large body
of structural engineering technology needed to design, fabricate, transport,
and install offshore structures. The technological developments have success-
fully coped with a number of challenges, such as the harsh operating environ-
ment of the North Sea. With the advances in manned and remotely operated
submersible systems, the development of sub-sea oil production systems, and
the like, the exploitation of oil resources at deeper depths would be facili-
tated.2
Besides energy potential, the world's ocean space is a vast treasure house
of food. The world demand for food and its production are hanging on a
delicate balance. This is so in spite of the near doubling of food output in
the third quarter of this century, a remarkable feat achieved through the
spread of the high-yielding varieties, the expansion of irrigation, and a six-
fold growth in the use of fertilizers. In the coming years, the maintenance of
the past rate of growth of food production would be difficult and constrained
by limits of available land, water, and energy and also by biological limits on
food-producing species. Despite the unrealized food-producing potential in
the Third World, the conditions for expansion of food production might be
unfavorable. Moreover, tremendous pressure is being exerted on just one
region—North America—for meeting world demand for food. Since the end
of World War II, not one new country has emerged as a significant cereal
exporter. As the renowned food expert Lester Brown says: "The worldwide
shift of countries outside of North America from export to import status is a
well-travelled one-way street."3
Can the sea fill the increasing food needs of man? By 1980, the annual
world fish catch totaled 65 million metric tons (mmt) and was worth nearly
$20 billion. This amount can be considered insignificant since it provided
only about 1-2 percent of the calories of food available to man. Its value,
however, can be better appreciated by the fact that fish is the source of about
13 percent of the world's animal protein—about three-quarters as much as
provided by beef and more than three times that supplied by poultry.4
The hopes that the sea could be a major contributor to world food output
received a setback in the mid-1970s, when the world fish catch began to
stagnate. The main reason for this is the character of man's fishing activity,
which is extremely inefficient. Our fishing has been similar to the hunting of
land animals by our ancestors. As pointed out by Arnold Toynbee, the his-
torian, fishing has been a practice of "skimming the sea by the paleolithic
method of hunting." This inefficient form of fishing, coupled with over-fishing
in the last three decades, has often led to great fishing disasters. The most
dramatic of these was the collapse in 1972 of the anchovy fishery of the
coast of Peru in South America. Just before is collapsed, this fishery was the
world's largest and contributed one-fifth of the world's catch.
Food production from the seas could dramatically improve if only we
can devise appropriate fishery management policies and quicken the trans-
formation from "hunting" to "farming" of the seas. To quote Toynbee again,
he called for abandoning hunting of seafood in favor of "farming the sea by
cultivating edible seaweed and breeding and shepherding fish as we breed
and shepherd sheep."5 A technology of aquaculture (or mariculture, with
special reference to ocean waters)—the cultivation of marine plants and the
husbandry of marine animals, is now at hand. The evolution of aquaculture
matches the emergence of agriculture on land 10,000 years ago, and involves
the transition from "capture to culture" of fish."
Though aquaculture has a long history—particularly in China, Japan,
and Europe—it is now being modernized and spread. The worldwide fish
production from aquaculture in 1980 was estimated to be over 8.7 million
tons. About 75 percent of this came from the farming of the seas, especially
in coastal areas. Compared with 1975, when the total production was about
6.1 million tons, there was an increase of some 42 percent in overall aqua-
culture production in five years. The aquaculture production in 1980 formed
only about 12 percent of the total output of fishery, but this percentage is
likely to grow rapidly, provided the scientific and technological inputs are
increased.7
Seaweed culture, as part of aquaculture, is also gaining importance. Sea-
weed culture has a long tradition in East and Southeast Asia. Four major
species of seaweed have already been domesticated, and the Chinese produc-
tion of seaweed has rapidly risen in the last two decades. But, as yet, seaweed
and algae are largely untapped resources that can be developed for human
food and cattle feed, energy and fertilizer, and a variety of chemicals and
drugs. They can be cultured, selected, genetically improved, and grown any-
where in the ocean, if there is a suitable infrastructure.8
A perhaps disproportionate amount of attention of the world has centered
on the prospects of deep-seabed manganese nodules. These nodules, contain-
ing various metals, were among the most contentious issues of the LOS
Treaty. The creation of the International Seabed Authority to regulate the
exploitation of the manganese nodules saw the expenditure of considerable
international legal acumen and diplomatic skills, but still proved unaccept-
able to some big powers. But even before the convention was signed in De-
cember 1982, the manganese nodules lost some of their century-old glamor
to the newly discovered polymetallic sulfides, the discovery of which is
changing perceptions of seabed mining.9 These rich sulfide nodules are ex-
pected to be found all along the globe-girdling ridges on the ocean floor, lo-
cated at only half the depth of manganese nodules.
The spectacular metallic sulfides (also called hydrothermal ore sulfides)
are far from being understood. The first deposit was found in the central Red
Sea in an area of hot brines at a depth of about 6000 feet. The multicolored
muddy sediments contained iron sulfides and hydroxides, manganese, copper,
zinc, lead, silver, and gold. Comparable muds were also discovered in the
late 1970s on the East Pacific Rise at the mouth of the Gulf of California,
where enormous quantities of hot water escape from the ocean floor, carry-
ing similar metal sulfides.
The most dramatic discovery of these deposits, by the U.S. manned sub-
mersible Alvin, was announced in October 1981 by the U.S. National Ocean-
ographic and Atmospheric Administration. The U.S. geologists found several
mineral zones between the Galapagos Islands and Ecuador in the Pacific.
They are estimated to contain 25 million tons of polymetallic sulfides. The
concentration of copper and tin in these deposits is said to be high, calcu-
lated at around 10 percent each. Also present in these deposits are lead, mo-
lybdenum, vanadium, zinc, tin, cadmium, silver, gold, and platinum. The to-
tal value of the deposits is estimated at $3 billion. The leader of the U.S.
team that discovered these deposits, Dr. Alexander Malahoff, reported on the
significance of the new discoveries:
Manganese nodules . . . may no longer mark the prime mineral resource

of the ocean floor and may be overshadowed by the probably renewable
polymetallic sulphide deposits. . . . The relatively simple geochemical
composition of the polymetallic sulphides as compared to that of manga-
nese nodules taken together with the availability of land-based plants cur-
rently processing polymetallic sulphides may make the ocean floor poly-
metallic sulphides even more an attractive proposition. . . . Polymetallic
sulphides on the ocean floor may leave lasting effects upon the interna-
tional minerals industry. . . .10
There are also other, less spectacular mineral resources—such as placer

deposits—available from the seas. The placer deposits obtaining in the coastal
waters contain varying amounts of gold, platinum, tin-iron, zirconium, tita-
nium, rare earths, and diamonds. Though some of these have been mined for
a long time (tin in Southeast Asia, for example), many are still to be ex-
plored.11 Since placers occur in coastal and near-shore waters at depths usu-
ally not exceeding about 60 feet, they will be explored and exploited within
the EEZ. Some of the mineral occurrences in the seas are listed in Table 4.1.
At the same time, more exciting methods of extracting large amounts of
seawater minerals are being explored. Two examples based on the significance
of aquatic weeds and algae are illustrative. Experiments are under way to de-
velop hybrid green algae that absorb and accumulate the uranium in concen-
trations several thousand times that in normal seawater. In another case, the
U.S. NASA has been experimenting with water hyacinth, which has the ability
to absorb through its roots heavy metals such as mercury, cadmium, nickel,
and lead, and even gold and silver. These metals can be recovered from the
harvested plants. If the experiments succeed, water hyacinth and other plants
would have a great potential in mineral extraction from the seas.12
Conflict Over Ocean Resources
The fears of depleting resources on land and a rising consciousness of the

importance of ocean resources, coupled with the clamor of the developing
countries to create a new order in the oceans, has culminated in the negotia-
tion of a new legal regime for ocean space. The new dispensation replaced
the traditional laissez-faire system of the freedom of the seas with a new in-
ternational regime for nearly four-fifths of the planetary surface. It placed
40 percent of the ocean and its bottom adjacent to the coasts of the conti-
nents and islands under the jurisdiction of the states in possession of these
coasts. It reserved the other 60 percent of the ocean surface and the water
below for the traditional freedom of the seas; but it declared the wealth of
the ocean floor outside the coastal state jurisdiction as a common heritage of
mankind. It also created a unique international mechanism, the International
Seabed Authority (ISA), to govern the exploration of seabed resources. The
ISA has the theoretical capacity to generate income, the power of taxation,
and some domain over ocean-exploiting technologies. The new regime affirms
the 12-mile limit of the territorial sea as well as a 12-mile contiguous zone.
Beyond these limits, it gives the coastal states sovereign rights over the use of
natural resources in the newly created 200-mile exclusive economic zone
(EEZ) and, in addition, a set of other rights in regard to such activities as
scientific research. Where the continental shelf extends beyond 200 miles, the
EEZ rights with respect to resources on the shelf are extended with it, but
not beyond 350 miles. The coastal state does not hold territorial sovereignty
over its economic zone, but a new kind of "functional sovereignty."
What sort of military situations could this enormous expansion of coastal
state jurisdiction over oceans and "imposition" of collective sovereignty over
the seabed resources lead to? What would be the new relation between mari-
time powers and the coastal Third World states? It has been suggested by
Robert Osgood that in the earlier era, fishing and shipping had been causes
of conflict, but "not generally on such a scale as to impinge on the wealth or
security of nations, and never on a scale that threatened the prevailing legal
regime, except in the case of shipping, temporarily during wars."13 However,
Osgood argues, with the great expansion of economic activities in the ocean
space—oil extraction and fishing—the conflicts over ocean resources are
likely to grow.
Many coastal states are increasingly getting into conflicts on claims over
island territories and delimitation of EEZs in the desire to expand their re-
spective stakes in ocean wealth. These disputes are unlikely to remain local
and could involve big extra-regional maritime powers with security and basing
interests in the region. The corporate actors of technologically advanced
countries are also likely to be involved. These conflicts could be most acute
in regions of southern, Southeast, and East Asia.
A number of nations have put forward competing claims to hitherto un-
claimed obscure islands, reefs, and atolls in order to extend their EEZs as
much as possible. "In a number of cases competing claims, security interests,
national pride and economic interests have come together to create disputes
and some actual conflicts concerning the ownership of previously obscure is-
lands."14 The state of political relations also clouds the possibility of settling
the disputes amicably. For example, the disputes between Vietnam and ASEAN
nations over certain South China Sea islands must be seen in the context of
wider disputes over Kampuchea; and so must be viewed the Sino-Vietnamese
dispute over the Paracel Islands. Similarly, the difficulties of India in re-
solving its maritime boundary disputes with Pakistan and Bangladesh must
be viewed in the context of the uncertain political relations in South Asia.
Of greater significance is the likelihood of big-power involvement in
Asian maritime disputes, given the fact that most of the Asian countries
are linked to outside powers through treaties. As pointed out by Young:
The dispute between Vietnam and Malaysia over the ownership of Am-
boyna Cay and Terumbu [Layang] has implications for Malaysia's allies
in the Five Power Defense Arrangement (Britain, Australia, New Zealand,
Singapore) and for Vietnam's ally, the Soviet Union.
The dispute between Communist China, Taiwan, the Philippines and
Vietnam over the Spratly group of islands has its implications for a large
number of nations, including the superpowers, given that the U.S.S.R. has
a treaty with and is establishing bases in Vietnam and that the United
States has a treaty with and well developed bases in the Philippines.15
The multinational oil companies and consortia are also likely to get in-
volved in these conflicts. "Nations with conflicting EEZ claims have used sur-
vey area concessions to such companies as a means of furthering their claims.
The oil companies, keen to better their competitors and ingratiate themselves
with governments, have often been willing pawns in these disputes."18
The more significant cause of conflict in the utilization of ocean resources
could be the refusal of the United States and a few other Western maritime
powers to join the Law of the Sea Treaty. In a situation where the United
States is not part of the treaty system, John Norton Moore points out, "We
[the United States] might feel compelled to take measures to protect our in-
terests in ocean resources in a fashion that would possibly engender more in-
tense conflicts between the United States and others."17
Another possible form of conflict could be offshore maritime terrorism.18
Against the background of increasing terrorist activities worldwide, offshore
oil platforms could be attractive targets. The greater the economic value of
the platform and the larger the dependence of a state on a particular set of
platforms, the higher the incentive to terrorists and other hostile groups to
strike. However, Western literature neglects to mention that these offshore
installations could also be attractive targets to covert-action agencies of the
big powers.
The rising economic importance of the ocean space and its large-scale
enclosure by coastal states need not necessarily lead to hostile relations be-
tween big maritime powers and coastal Third World states. It could also lead
to dominance-dependence relationship with the complete cooperation of the
ruling elites in the Third World. The new legal regime on the oceans cannot
transcend the power structure that gave rise to it. Even though the coastal de-
veloping states have acquired economic sovereignty over large tracts of coastal
waters, they lack the scientific, technological, and industrial means of utilizing
the ocean resources. Most of them also lack the capacity to defend and pro-
tect these resources. The temptations to "rent out" the EEZs could be irresist-
ible to the coastal developing states. It would be hardly surprising if, ulti-
mately, coastal states with Exclusive Economic Zones exploited the resources
not just in their own EEZs, but also those in the EEZs of the developing
coastal states. It would be supremely ironic if the movement for the enclosure
of oceans ended up advantageously for those states that have been opposing
it. It appears possible that the maritime powers and their large corporations
could soon make appropriate bilateral arrangements with coastal developing
states, paying them rent or royalties in return for the use of EEZs. As in the
case of land resources in weaker countries, so in the case of ocean resources:
The corporations from the advanced countries in possession of technological
know-how and skills are likely to acquire the legal possession of these re-
sources for a pittance.
Seapower, Resources, and Strategy in the Indian Ocean
Seapower is an old and enduring concept, despite all the semantic confusion
surrounding it. The concepts of seapower and sea control have acquired a
new urgency in the last decade as the importance of ocean resources and
ocean politics began to dawn upon the world. The new urgency was strongly
felt in Western strategic thinking, thanks to the emergence of the blue-water
capability of the Soviet Union and the increasing economic confrontation be-
tween the North and the South. The specters of a "Soviet naval threat" and
the resource denial by the Third World now threaten to haunt Western stra-
tegic thinkers for quite some time to come.
In this context, all encompassing definitions of seapower have become
common: "a nation's seapower is determined not only by the weapons and
armed forces with which it can affect events at sea but also by its merchant
marine, its fishing and oceanographic fleets, and its maritime outlook and tra-
dition."19 Admiral Sergey Gorshkov is one of the more recent exponents of
this all-embracing concept of seapower:
In the definition of the seapower of the state we include as the main com-
ponents possibilities for the state to study (explore) the ocean and harness
its wealth, the status of the merchant and fishing fleets and their ability to
meet the needs of the state and also the presence of a navy matching the
interests of this state, since antagonistic social systems exist in the world.20
Along with the new awareness of the importance of seapower, there has
been a great revival of reverence for Admiral Alfred Thayer Mahan, at least
in the United States. Admiral Mahan's teachings—stressing the importance
of seapower to great nationhood—evoke grandiose feelings in a militarily re-
surgent United States. It is not as if the current U.S. naval strategic thinking
is looking back to Mahan for any specific principles or guides to current ac-
tion. As Geoffrey Kemp notes:
The most important legacy of Alfred Mahan is not to be found in his
technical writings or even in his classical work The Influence of Seapower
Upon History. His great relevance today is his political vision, his sense of
destiny, and his efforts to persuade his own government that its future
greatness lay in further exploration of its maritime assets. His message for
today would be that unless the United States has greater sense of purpose
and seeks practical ways to fulfill it, it will surely decline as a world power.
What does this mean for the United States?
First, the United States has abundant maritime assets that it can and
should exploit, ranging from further development and control of its own
immensely rich offshore maritime technology for both military and non-
military purposes. Second, in a sense most applicable to Mahan's basic
message, the United States must make greater effort to extend and exploit
its lead in air and space technology, for it is in this medium—especially in
outer space—that important determinants of international power will be
decided in the twentieth century. In fact, it would be appropriate to modify
the catchwords of earlier geopolitical strategists, such as Sir Halford Mac-

kinder and Giulio Douhet, and propose the dictum that in future the
country that controls outer space will control the maritime environment,
and the country that controls the maritime environment will control the
world. The third message derives from the second: The United States must
discover the political will necessary for new progress to be made.21
The fascination with Mahan is so great that Admiral Gorshkov is grudg-
ingly complimented by Elmo Zumwalt as the "20th century Mahan."22
The rationale for the strengthening of American seapower, as put for-
ward by its modern proponents, consists of two factors. One is the Soviet
threat to American naval supremacy, unchallenged since the 1940s. Hedley
Bull refers to the "righteous indignation" in the United States that the exist-
ing distribution of power should be disturbed. The American argument
is that the United States stands at the center of an alliance system that
depends vitally on sea lines of communication, while also being heavily de-
pendent on trade herself. The Soviet Union, as a self-sufficient economy, is
not in this position. Bull argues that this thesis is quite correct, but only on
the assumption that the existing power structure should not be disturbed.23
The second factor is the Third World control over vital natural re-
sources—such as oil and minerals—and the debilitating consequences on
Western security of the denial of the resources by the developing countries.
Thus, the strategic need for ensuring the security of these natural resources.24
The struggle of Third World nations for a new international economic order
and the fight for better control over the appropriate price for their natural
resources was likened in the West to the nineteenth-century trade union
movement in the West and required the urgent development of doctrine, plans,
weapons, and force structures in anticipation of possible uses of military force
in some novel crisis situations.25 Force projection through seapower naturally
would have to play a major role in this.
This argument of the "dangerous dependence" on Third World resources
was put at its poignant best by an American admiral:
We were once a nation which produced more raw materials than we
consumed. Because this is no longer true, we must look elsewhere for raw
materials, often vital and strategic raw materials, to supply our defense
and economic needs. In time of war, strategic raw materials will be critical
to the sustenance of our war-fighting capability. ... In peacetime, the
uninterrupted flow of raw materials is required to support our way of life.
This tender relationship has been most recently and dramatically observed
when Americans altered their life styles one way or another as the flow of
oil to our nation was affected by political or economic variables. For some
Americans, adjustments to the turns of the international oil spigot meant
little more than frustrating times in long gas lines. Others changed their
driving habits. Some Americans lived, and a few died, in cold unheated
rooms in homes during winters when heating oil was unavailable or un-
affordable.
The shortage of fossil fuel has underscored our national dependence
on the sea. We rely on raw materials which are dispersed globally and
which must reach us by way of the sea. The world ocean has no rival in
the effective transportation of bulk materials, and it is across salt water
that we draw our vital national lifelines.26 (emphasis added)
Thus, seapower and its projection across the globe are vital for the very
survival of the American "island state" and the "American way of life"! The
Rapid Deployment Force, the 600-ship navy, and the U.S. Central Command
are the products of the new strategy of seapower, based on the above apoca-
lyptic perceptions, which appear deep-rooted in the United States.
The new U.S. seapower doctrine, however, would have to operate under
the maritime environment—which includes the need to protect its own large
"offshore estate,"27 the opportunities of new economic activities in the ocean
space, the constraints of the Law of the Sea and the growth of regional naval
powers. Given the all-embracing nature of the new concept of seapower, the
creation of a new American national ocean policy in relation to its naval strat-
egy becomes imperative. A vision of the U.S. ocean policy-naval strategy ma-
trix is given in Table 4.2.
How are the current U.S. plans to strengthen its seapower, and the new
U.S.-Soviet naval rivalry, viewed in the Third World? In the words of an In-
dian observer:
As in the colonial past, at stake are the economic and commercial interests
of the advanced industrial nations. . . . For the West, the real target of
the rivalry is the resources of the Third World, while for the East the ob-
jective is to expand its sphere of influence to the developing parts of the
world and deny it to the extent possible to the West.28
The proposed new contingencies for the use of force against the Third
World states are not entirely novel to the observers in the Third World. Their
own colonization has been achieved through the use of seapower, and even
after their independence they have lived with "gunboat diplomacy." Out of
the 215 instances of an American demonstration of force, at least 71 percent
involved the use of naval power, mostly against the developing countries.20
We must now examine how the new U.S. seapower doctrines and the de-
veloping-country responses relate to the specific situation in the Indian Ocean
region. The bone of contention between the United States and the littoral
countries like India is the projection of American seapower into the Indian
Ocean. The United States states that the projection of its seapower into the
area is to defend its allies and its own vital interests in the region. This per-
ception of vital interests can be briefly summarized as follows.
The volume of maritime traffic in the Indian Ocean is the third largest in
the world.30 The predominant portion of the Indian Ocean littoral trade is
with the United States and its allies: In the mid-1970s, it totaled 33 percent
with West Europe; Japan, 19 percent; and the United States, 13 percent. The
Eastern bloc share was only 5 percent. There are well-developed sea lanes in
the region, through which annually pass some 30,000 ships, about 1500 of
which are tankers. Most of these sea lanes traverse such choke points as the
Suez Canal, the Bab-el-Mandeb Strait, the Hormuz Strait, the Mozambique
Channel, the Eight Degree Channel above the Maldives, and the Malacca
Strait, Selat Sunda, and Selat Lambok. Oil is, of course, the most important
material exported from the region; the volume of oil exported constitutes
one-third of the world's supply. In addition, there are other, non-fuel miner-
als whose production is concentrated in the Indian Ocean region. The un-
hindered supply of these minerals is crucial for the survival of the civil and
defense industries of the West.
It is thus postulated that the security of the supply of oil and other strate-
gic materials is the basic rationale for the projection of U.S. seapower to the
Indian Ocean. The threats to this resource security are visualized on two lev-
els: The threat to the sea lines of communications is either from the Soviet
Union or from the regional powers.
The Soviet interdiction of the Western sea lines of communication has
been the most cited threat in U.S. and Western security literature. However,
some Western strategists have themselves discounted this threat as exagger-
ated. For example, Ken Booth has written:
The Soviet threat to these areas, the Cape of Good Hope route, for ex-
ample, is often asserted without any reference to the resupply problems
which Soviet units would face in any sustained campaign against Western
shipping in that distant area, operating in a hostile environment, remote
from their bases, and with inadequate afloat support.31
It is now argued, in an elegant transformation, that the Soviet threat is

not so much to the sea lanes but to the source itself. One U.S. Admiral says:
"Our greatest vulnerability is Soviet disruption at the source of our supply of
critical raw materials; not the sea lanes, but the source. Soviet air strikes,
mining operations, or ground attacks aimed at those oil terminals would con-
stitute a threat to the flow of oil in the event of major hostilities."32 This
logical jugglery is carried one step further by Geoffrey Kemp:
In fact, the least vulnerable stage of the oil flow from the Gulf is cur-
rently the transoceanic stage. This could become more vulnerable if the
balance of power at sea changed, but . . . this would require major geo-
political shifts and changes in the landmass of Asia and Africa that would
result in the construction of maritime bases along the littoral.
No sensible Western maritime strategy can be envisaged that does not
also take into account the environment on the landmass from which most
of the resources come. In the Persian Gulf, in the absence of overall strat-
egy for using military power in the Gulf, a forward-based U.S. maritime
posture will not be used to cover some of the most likely military contin-
gencies in the region and certainly not the most serious ones—namely a
Soviet invasion of the Gulf.33 (emphasis added)
This shift in the focus of U.S. attention from the sea lines of communica-
tion to the "environment of the landmass" itself is seen as a most irksome de-
velopment by India. "It is no secret that the U.S. policy is directed as much
towards domestic upheavals in the Third World nations [of the Indian Ocean
region] as towards Soviet intervention, the former being more probable than
the latter."34 The Indian fear is that the U.S. power would not be confined to
the sea, but would inevitably encroach onto the landmass, and not just against
a Soviet threat.
Oil, the Gulf, and U.S. Security
Ever since the oil crisis of October 1973, American strategic thinking has
been obsessed with the issues of energy security, oil dependence on the Gulf,
and the protection and securing of these resources in the Gulf. This concern
with Gulf oil has been, and continues to be, the predominant motor of U.S.
Indian Ocean policy. The oil crisis itself was over-dramatized by the Ameri-
can media, and the reaction was near hysterical. The Western reaction went
further than this, with undertones of racist attacks against Arab oil exporters
and threats of military action by U.S. politicians. In fact, the so-called crisis
of 1973 was nothing but a culmination of the actions of the oil exporters, be-
gun in 1960, to get a better deal for their product and arrest the decline in
real terms of oil prices. What they did in October 1973 was to take control
over their oil resources and ensure themselves the power to formulate and
implement pricing and production policies, without submitting to the power
of the Western oil companies (see Table 4.3).
Because Arab oil export policies were seen as an aspect of Arab-Israeli
politics and the imposition of an oil embargo on the United States and the
Netherlands spurred concern about the political use of economic power by
Arab oil producers, fears of a possible oil strangulation appear to have been
highly exaggerated. Recent Western studies of the Saudi behavior in OPEC
reach some interesting conclusions:
... if the Saudis were to behave as purely economic beings, acting solely
to maximize profit, how would their behaviour differ from what it has
been? The answer ... is: very little, if at all. Throughout, their decisions
have been made on the basis of economic self-interest, not political issues.
Saudi oil pricing and production policies can be explained without refer-
ence to the Arab-Israeli conflict, arms sales or any other political or diplo-
matic issue. Of course, Saudi policy is often expressed politically, since
the Saudis want to earn political credit where possible. But where eco-
nomics and politics conflict, it is clear that the former has been decisive.35
The perceptions of oil power were reinforced by the second oil crisis, in
1979. But today's emerging economic issue is the current crisis for Gulf oil
producers. The oil glut is a crisis for the oil producers because there is a drop
in demand, a drop in production, and consequently a drop in export revenues.
While the new oil crisis has hit all the oil producers, the Arab members of
OPEC have suffered a much greater cutback in their production and reve-
nues, absolutely and relatively, than the non-Arab members.36 The crisis in
the oil market was dramatized in the winter of 1985—86, when oil prices col-
lapsed from their peak of over $40 a barrel in 1980-81 to less than $12.37
Before we examine the implications of the new crisis, it is necessary to

understand its causes. First is the fall in the world energy consumption, which
declined from 6947 million tonnes oil equivalent (mtoe) in 1979 to 6870
mtoe in 1982. In 1985 and 1986, consumption picked up, but primary en-
ergy consumption in the OECD countries remains well below the level of
1979, indicating that energy consumption is rising essentially in the commu-
nist and developing worlds. As stated, worldwide oil consumption declined
sharply between 1979 and 1982, and it continues to remain below the 1979
level (see Table 4.4). World oil production, which peaked in 1979, also re-
mained below that level in 1986:!8 (see Table 4.5).
This decline in energy and oil consumption and production has been ex-
plained by some as a result of a worldwide recession that began in the late
1970s. But it appears that the decline is due to more basic, long-term devel-
opments, such as weakening of the so-called historical link between economic
growth and energy consumption in the industrially advanced countries of the
West. In the United States, over the last decade, the amount of energy used
to produce a given amount of goods and services has fallen by at least 20
percent, and this trend is expected to continue39 (see also Figure 4.1). In the
main, this has been due to increased energy conservation measures and a
greater efficiency in the use of energy. Even if the worldwide economic activ-
ity picks up, the energy efficiency trend would not be reversed. Furthermore,
most future growth is likely to be in such high-tech industries as micro-
electronics, computers, and communications, which are not energy intensive.
The decline of oil imports has also been the result of the increased use of
non-oil energy sources, stimulated by the high price of oil. Coal has made an
impressive comeback, the share of nuclear energy has steadily advanced, and
the search for alternative sources, such as solar energy, has intensified.
Significantly, though worldwide oil production has declined, there has
been a great rise in oil production outside OPEC, and the OPEC share of
worldwide oil production shrank to a significant extent (see Table 4.5). To-
tal non-OPEC oil production rose by 35 percent from 1973 to 1983.40 And
OPEC's share of world production dipped from 53 percent in 1973 to 33
percent in 1982, and dropped to about 28 percent in 1985. This rise of non-
OPEC oil production was spurred by the high price of oil, which led to
(1) making the development of high-cost, hitherto uneconomic, reserves eco-
nomic; (2) encouraging the exploration of many new areas for new sources
of oil; and (3) the development of new, exotic techniques of oil production.
The rise of non-OPEC oil production also meant that an increasing number
of producers were competing for a shrinking market.
The cutbacks in oil imports by the major oil-importing countries have
been striking. The United States, whose oil imports rose from 6.3 millions of
barrels per day (mb/d) in 1973 to 8.7 mb/d in 1977, began to reduce its
imports and in 1983 imported only 4.9 mb/d. The imports of Western Eu-
rope fell steadily from 15.4 mb/d in 1973 to 8.7 mb/d in 1983. And Japan
managed to cut its imports from 5.5 mb/d in 1973 to 4.1 mb/d in 1983.41
All these factors have led to a decline in the importance of Gulf oil and
FIGURE 4.1. U.S. Energy Consumption Per Dollar of Real GNP, 1973-1982
to the current crisis (for the producers). As Table 4.6 indicates, the flow of
oil from the Persian Gulf/Middle East to the oil-importing nations of the
"Free World" has steadily declined. By 1983, the dependence on Middle
East oil had been reduced to 11.6 percent for the United States, 39.4 percent
for Western Europe, and 65.8 percent for Japan. Reports in 1987 indicate
there has been a further reduction in that dependence: 5 percent for the
United States, 26 percent for Western Europe, and 50 percent for Japan.42
Thus, fundamental changes in the character of world energy consump-
tion and structural changes in the world oil industry had major consequences.
First, the argument that the political power of OPEC Gulf states is being
used to deny oil to the Western powers can no longer be sustained. OPEC's
declining exports and falling revenues do not allow such a freedom of action
to oil producers. The capacity of OPEC to impose selective embargoes to de-
rive political advantage appears far-fetched.43 In fact,
the use of economic power by OPEC as a political weapon is largely an
imaginary threat, and even the power of OPEC on economic issues is
slowly but surely eroding as a result of forces set in motion by its own
actions. On both grounds it appears that the influence of oil politics in the
1980s, and beyond, will recede and leave the oil politics of 1970s as a
passing and somewhat arcane chapter in international politics. Should the
present trends continue, by the end of the decade 'oil power' may be re-
reduced to a rather marginal aspect of the international system, despite the
continued dependence of the industrialized countries on imported energy.44
In such a situation, the argument by the United States of the need "to
guarantee access to oil in Southwest Asia," and to "defend Gulf oil," cannot
be accepted without reservation. Yet the U.S. strategic thinking continues to
revolve around the vital importance of Gulf oil—or, rather, the reserves of
oil. The argument is now based on the fact that the Gulf contains nearly 50
percent of the world's proven oil reserves, and that its reserves-to-production
ratio is still the highest in the world. "It therefore remains a key element of
U.S. foreign policy to preserve Western access to these reserves, and in par-
ticular the reserves of the Arabian peninsula. . . . Saudi stability is of prime
concern to U.S. policymakers."45 While these kinds of justifications based on
oil security can be unending, they cannot hold much water, given the above
examination of structural changes in the world oil market. The tendency in
the United States to cite any dependence of its economy—however small and
marginal it may be—as a threat to its security, requiring the projection of
military power, cannot be acceptable to the rest of the world, or at least to
India. The use or threat of use of force in an economically interdependent
world—projected in a one-sided way—is inimical to the interests of highly
vulnerable developing countries of the world.
Two other reasons—cited in relation to oil dependence—may lead us to
a greater appreciation of the possible real motivations behind the U.S. Indian
Ocean policy. One is the threat of local conflict among the countries of the
region or from internal upheavals in the countries leading to a cutoff in the
supply of oil. The experience of the unending Iran-Iraq war, however, shows
that there has been no dramatic impact of the war on the oil supplies from
the region. According to oil industry analysts, even the tensions that were
building up in the Gulf during mid-1987 following the Stark incident, the
U.S. decision to protect reflagged Kuwaiti tankers, and the Western naval
buildup might not lead to a crisis of oil supplies.46 To the extent that a limited
threat to oil security has existed, it has arisen from the supply of a new gen-
eration of arms during the conflict by some Western powers. The fears related
to internal conflicts are also untenable. Even if there is a dramatic and radical
change in the nature of the power elites of the local states, given the depen-
dence of these states on a single commodity for economic survival, economic
necessity would make an oil cutoff unlikely. These arguments cannot mask
the real nature of the projection of force into the Indian Ocean—and that is
to assure local allies that the security threats to them from within and with-
out would be countered, a capacity much vaunted in the Iran crisis. Another
aim of the power projection is to prevent any radical regime change in the
region and to ensure a continuous capability to influence political and eco-
nomic developments in the region.
The second reason cited by U.S. strategists is the Soviet threat to the
Gulf oil supplies. At one time in the early 1980s, the United States was ar-
guing two issues simultaneously: on the one hand that the Soviet Union was
seeking to export energy to Western Europe in order to lure the U.S. allies into
energy dependence on the Kremlin and, on the other, that the Soviet Union
was exhausting its domestic energy supplies and might prepare to invade the
Gulf to acquire the oil resources there. It is obvious that both sets of argu-
ments cannot be true at the same time. The continual refrain about the ever-
growing Soviet threat to the Gulf appears to be an obsession of some groups
of conservative U.S. ideologues. This refrain does not evoke much credibility
even within the United States, if one goes along with the evidence presented
by Daniel Pipes.47 Himself a virulent anti-Soviet ideologue, Pipes argues that
there has been an enduring "non-ideological" basis in U.S. policy in the
Middle East, and that the Soviets recognize this. He suggests that, in contrast
to all other regions, "the Middle East appears to offer a unique opportunity
for U.S.-Soviet cooperation."48
While Professor Pipes is correct in envisaging possibilities for superpower
cooperation in the Middle East, he misses the overall thrust of the U.S. stra-
tegic policy of which Southwest Asian policy is an integral part. The U.S.
force projection into the Indian Ocean region is part of the evolving military
strategy directed against the Soviet Union, in the context of the new cold
war. The strategy is based on the perceived need of the Reagan Administra-
tion to correct the earlier assumption that deterrence in Europe was sufficient
to keep the Russians at bay in the rest of the world too. The doctrine now
appears to be that deterrence must be extended to all the regions around the
Soviet Union. The aims of the new strategy, as spelled out by Caspar Wein-
berger, are:
Deterring Soviet aggression is our biggest challenge . . . the Soviet
and their allies have a significant advantage of proximity to several criti-
cal theaters. In addition they are enhancing the ability to transport their
own surrogate forces to areas far from both the Soviet Union and the
United States.
As a result of these Soviet gains, the demands on our projection are
greater today than ever before. We must be prepared to dispatch forces
promptly to any of a number of regions around the world possibly simul-
taneously.49
This new strategy has been described as a shift from the U.S. military
strategy of the 1970s of "one and a half wars" to one of "three and a half
wars." In sum, the new strategy implies that
the Soviets are to be simultaneously and forcefully engaged on several
fronts on or along the Eurasian landmass. The defense of Europe is, of
course, important, but in a worldwide war with the Soviet Union, Europe
will be only one of several theaters of operations and not necessarily a
decisive one. Prospects for a conclusive counteroffensive in Europe are
less promising than in other regions of the world where the military bal-
ance is more favourable to the United States.50
It is this perceived imperative of a new military strategy that propels U.S.
forces toward the Indian Ocean, and the issues of energy and economic se-
curity in relation to Gulf oil are only peripheral and serve propaganda pur-
poses. The capacity to use this force against regional powers of course is a
bonus.
The real problems of oil and economic security are for the littoral coun-
tries. Their dreams of unlimited economic prosperity and political power be-
gan to vanish in the early 1980s along with declining oil exports, and reve-
nues from them (see Tables 4.7 and 4.8). By the mid-1980s, it was evident
that a serious fiscal crunch was at hand. Overambitious budgets had to be
slashed, projects canceled, and austerity measures introduced. The large for-
eign exchange reserves held by the industrialized countries—$224 billion in
1984—give these countries powerful economic leverage over Middle East
and Gulf oil producers who had reserves of only $58 billion in that year.51
Internally, the strategy of petroleum-led development—using oil revenues as
the engine of growth and diversification—remains only on paper. The ad-
vance being made in downstream processing could be of limited value given
the worldwide excess capacity in oil refining. For the oil-exporting countries,
investment and development priorities did not result in the building of na-
tional and regional productive capabilities—even in those sectors requiring
simpler technologies. The lack of effective institutions and the inadequate
availability of skilled manpower coupled with overambitious budgets resulted
in excessively costly and wasteful plans and programs. How the oil-exporting
countries adapt to the new situation remains to be seen, but their past record
does not offer much hope.
The declining economic fortunes of Gulf oil producers are likely to have
an impact on the advanced countries of the West as well as on the littoral
countries of the region. For the Western countries, the end of the boom in
the oil-producing countries implied a shrinking market for Western exports
there. In 1982, exports to the Middle East and North Africa from the six
major OECD suppliers totaled $85.5 billion; in 1984, the figure dropped to
$67 billion.52 The oil-importing developing countries paid a high price for
skyrocketing oil bills. But some of them gained from the economic boom in
the Gulf. This was mainly through the export of labor, and some technologi-
cally advanced countries like India received construction and other con-
tracts. Within the Arab world, some of the non-oil-exporting countries emerged
as labor exporters—notably Egypt, Sudan, Syria, South Yemen, North Ye-
men, and Jordan. Inter-Arab remittances from labor exports were said to be
more than $6 billion in 1980.53The real transfers will be higher than what
cash figures indicate, because of transfers in kind. Migration from Asia—
mainly from South Asia, but later from the Philippines and South Korea—
has been a growing segment of labor composition in the Gulf region. By 1980,
Asia accounted for approximately one-third of the foreign labor force in the
region. The downturn in economic activity in the Gulf is bound to lead to a
shrinking of the remittances to the oil-poor countries of Asia, which had
benefited considerably from labor exports. Besides the loss of revenue, the
absorption of returning migrants could be a major problem.54
The Mythology of Strategic Minerals
In 1979, Business Week sounded the following alarm:

Now the Squeeze on Metals
America's industrial might—already threatened by the deepening energy
mess—is in for another resource crunch. . . . All signs point to longer-
range problems in U.S. mineral supply that will not be solved by cyclic
swings in the economy. If not solved, those problems could make U.S.
business less competitive, lower America's standard of living, and en-
danger the national security.
Most ominous is the growing U.S. dependence on foreign sup-
plies. ... By the mid-1980s, experts warn, the U.S. will be dangerously
dependent on foreign sources for a significant portion of its total metals
requirements.
All this amounts to a strategic threat every bit as damaging as the
energy squeeze.65
Thus began a new campaign in the United States warning of a possible

"resource war," of a Soviet threat to U.S. mineral supplies and a possible
Third World denial of these vital resources. While the idea of a spectacular
resource war was new to the U.S. media, it was not so to U.S. strategic think-
ing. Western writing on the Indian Ocean is littered with references to the
rich mineral resources in the Indian Ocean and Western and U.S. dependence
on these minerals. Access to these non-fuel raw materials has been a major
underpinning (along with access to oil) of the articulation of U.S. strategy in
the Indian Ocean. The security of the supply of these raw materials has al-
ways been considered a major objective of the U.S. force projection into the
region. These concerns, of course, received a boost with the success of the
Marxist regimes in Angola and Mozambique and the Soviet support to these
regimes.
A recent analysis suggests that "strategic minerals should now be viewed
as a central factor in possible scenarios of conflict in some form, especially in
the Middle East and Southern Africa. They could also play a part in causing
or contributing to conflicts in a number of other areas, for example, North
Africa and Southwest Asia."56 And these potential conflicts could be between
superpowers, between a superpower and a regional state, between regional
states that may or may not be supported by superpowers, or even between re-
gions or provinces within a state.
Surprisingly, such strategic perceptions are widely shared by Indians writ-
ing about the Indian Ocean. For example, one writer points out, "The coun-
tries around the Indian Ocean possess raw materials which are vital for the
growth and development of the major manufacturing industries of the big
powers."57 Another says, "The interrelationship between the U.S. military
strategy and America's dependence for resources on other countries has to be
taken note of since that gives a clue to the real nature of U.S. objectives in
the Indian Ocean region and elsewhere in the Third World."58
The intervention in 1977 and 1978 by Western and pro-Western powers
(the United States, France, Belgium, Morocco, Senegal, and Saudi Arabia)
in the Shabah Province of Zaire against the Congolese National Liberation
Front might be seen as an operation intended to secure access to mineral re-
sources, thus bearing out the shared perceptions of Western and Indian theo-
rists. While the partial validity of this perception is to be accepted, the stra-
tegic importance of mineral resources has been exaggerated. Before we explain
this, we must examine some of the basic trends in the mineral industry.
First is the declining importance of metals, at least the base metals, for
the industrially advanced countries due to some basic structural changes in
their economies. In the advanced Western industrial societies there has so far
existed a one-to-one relationship between growth in real GDP, the rise in in-
dustrial production, and the consumption of metals. In the past decade or so,
secular trends have been widely observed that indicate a severing of these
one-to-one relationships. From 1950 to the early 1970s, the OECD countries
experienced unprecedented growth rates in GDP. In this period, industrial
production grew at higher rates than the GDP. Since the early 1970s, how-
ever, the trend has been reversed. The leading role of industry in economic
growth has been taken over by the services sector, and the OECD economies
have been said to enter "the post-industrial era."
The industry sector, besides experiencing a reduced significance, has un-
dergone an important structural change. Until the mid-1960s, demand for
base metals and materials developed more or less parallel with overall indus-
trial expansion. Since then, the growth of the consumption of commodities
like copper and steel has slowed down. In fact since 1973 the demand for
these two products has been completely stagnant. As a noted mineral econo-
mist writes:
With increasing sophistication and extended value added in industry, the
requirements for base materials per unit of final output have gradually
contracted. Between 1964 and 1982, the industrial output in the OECD
area increased by 88%—consumption of copper and steel expanded, by
no more than 40% and 13%, respectively, over the same years. In 1982,
steel consumption in the area was 310 million tons. If demand had grown
in line with total industrial output since 1964, then the use of steel would
have reached 525 million tons, 215 million tons above the actual figure.59
He concludes that it is this structural change in mineral consumption, and

not the low growth rates of GDP and industrial output, that is responsible for
the minerals crisis in the West.
That the crisis in the minerals industry is deeply rooted is confirmed by
the fact that the recent partial recovery in the U.S. economy has bypassed the
metal industries. In these industries, inventories have continued to pile up,
demand is slack, sharp production cutbacks have taken place, and the com-
petition is intense from foreign suppliers.00 Take the case of the ferroalloy in-
dustry in the United States. While the total capacity of this industry in the
United States has remained relatively constant since 1979, capacity utiliza-
tion for the bulk ferroalloy industry dropped from 82 percent in 1979 to
35 percent for the first eight months of 1983, according to the U.S. Bureau
of Mines.81 In fact, ferroalloy capacity in the United States had fallen below
20 percent in 1982. The major portion of the decline in domestic capacity is
due to low-priced imports. Import penetration of the domestic bulk ferro-
alloy market increased from 46 percent in 1979 to 60 percent during the first
half of 1983. Imports have been increasing because they are cheaper than the
domestic product.62
The U.S. copper industry's plight is worse, with U.S. domestic production
sharply cut due to a flooding of the U.S. market with imported copper.63 As
a result, the U.S. copper industry reduced its production by about a quarter
in 1982, and again by one-tenth in 1983. About 40 percent of U.S. copper
mining capacity is out of action and 180,000 miners are said to be out of
work.64 But the massive cuts in North American copper production were off-
set by increases in production elsewhere, mostly in developing countries, and
the prices continued to drop. As copper prices dropped, Third World pro-
ducers increased their output to make up for lost revenues and maintain
their overall export revenues (which are heavily dependent on copper ex-
ports). The Third World copper producers also resorted to devaluing their
currencies to increase the competitiveness of their exports. This pushed down
the price of copper well below the break-even point for the best U.S. mines.65
The situation in American aluminum and lead industries was only a little
better. And the production rates of iron and steel continued to be low. Ca-
pacity utilization in the iron and steel sector averaged about 48 percent in
1983. In overall terms, despite the strong gains for the U.S. economy in 1983,
capacity utilization in the metal/materials sector was 63.8 percent compared
to 77 percent for total manufacturing. 66 The U.S. mining interests' anger was
directed against foreign suppliers, considered the chief villains responsible for
their plight. These interests were outraged at the U.S. involvement in foreign
mineral loans by multinational lending institutions such as the IMF. Some re-
cent loans include $327 million to Chile from the IMF; $268 million from
the Inter-American Development Bank to Condelco, a Chilean copper com-
pany; and $75 million to a Zambian copper company from the IBRD. The
American domestic copper mining companies saw this as a strangulation of
domestic producers at the expense of foreign competitors and tried to block
these loans through congressional action.67 But their pleas for protection from
foreign supplies has not cut much ice with the Reagan Administration.
But cheap foreign supplies are only part of the problem. A number of
other factors are also responsible for the state of the U.S. minerals industry.
The projections of growth rates in metal consumption made in the 1960s and
1970s turned out to be too high, and this resulted in many new projects
coming on-line just when the market needed them least. Projects were begun
despite the depressed prices, contributing further to the situation of oversupply.
Second, the general recession in the industry encouraged downstream metal-
consuming manufacturers to look closely at ways of cutting costs through

higher recycling rates and by reducing the quantities of metal used per unit
through improvements of technology and higher efficiency. Third, metals
have increasingly come into conflict with each other; the battle between cop-
per and aluminum in the electrical cable business was perhaps the most dra-
matic example. There are a host of other conflicts in which one metal's gain
has been another's loss.68
Fourth, and most important in the long term, there has been tremendous
competition to metals from other, new materials, such as plastics, composites,
optical fibers, and ceramics, which have continued to invade the traditional
metal-consuming market. For example, the copper industry faces a major
competition from optic fibers. In the advanced countries, the electrical equip-
ment sector currently accounts for about 50 percent of copper consumption.
According to one estimate, over the next 10 years the industry will lose as
much as five million tons of copper sales to optic fibers and, in addition, will
be faced with some one million tons of additional surplus from scrapped
copper cables.69 Aluminum is facing competition from plastics in such low-
tech industries as packaging and from composites in high tech industries such
as aerospace.70 The U.S. aerospace industry used $1.1 billion worth of com-
posite parts in 1983. The costs of composites are still very high, and the com-
posite content of Boeing Aircraft's commercial planes in 1984 was less than
one percent. Still, as prices moderate, aerospace industry sources forecast a
spurt to 60 percent by 1990.71 Lead is another metal whose traditional mar-
kets are under threat; the current drive in the West to introduce unleaded
gasoline would make a serious dent in the consumption of lead.72 Ceramics—
silicon nitrides and carbides—have shown great promise for replacing super-
alloys based on cobalt and nickel, so critical for various applications, particu-
larly in aerospace. Ceramics permit higher operating temperatures than metals
and thus higher efficiencies. Though ceramic use is still plagued by some
problems such as brittleness, their application will continue to rise.73 Accord-
ing to a U.S. ceramics expert, the worldwide ceramics industry has already
touched the $50 billion per-year mark. Ceramics are also finding increasing
application in cutting machine tools, rotors, turbines, valves, pistons, among
other areas. And there is a fear that Japan is likely to overtake the United
States in ceramics research. Japanese funding of ceramics R & D has in-
creased 55 percent between 1981 and 1983, a record unmatched by the
United States.74
The revolution in the science and technology of new materials has only
just begun to unfold. As composites, ceramics, polymers, and other materials
based on biotechnology—such as biomaterials and renewable materials—
begin to develop, the very nature of the "material" basis of advanced indus-
trial societies is likely to undergo a profound transformation. Traditional
metals and materials are bound to decline in their importance, yielding way
to new materials.
Given this evolving nature of the world minerals industry, what is the
validity of the concern over a "resource war," a war to be created by the So-
viets, their surrogates, and other Third World countries to strangulate the
West by withholding their minerals? Since 1979, the "atmospherics" in the
United States surrounding the scare about vulnerability to imported raw min-
erals appears to have been inspired more by domestic economic concerns
than by particular international developments. The conservative U.S. mining
industry interests, unable to adjust to the structural changes in mineral con-
sumption, have sought to raise this bogey of dependence to protect their own
markets and profits. The fact of the matter was that there have been no short-
ages, but an oversupply of materials, and that the U.S. industry could not
compete with cheap imports from abroad. The bogey of a Soviet-inspired re-
source war was only too convenient. However, U.S. companies with interests
in worldwide mining, such as AMAX, take a different view. A top executive
of this company, in testimony before the Senate Committee on Energy and
Natural Resources in June 1983, stated that the OPEC-inspired mentality
over dependence on foreign sources of supply for critical material has "en-
gendered a xenophobic shortage mentality in which dependence has come to
be equated with vulnerability."75 Evaluating the Reagan Administration's
policy on strategic minerals, a U.S. GAO study is reported to have said that
the administration focused almost exclusively on "national security" aspects
of the materials and minerals issues, while ignoring economic factors and
industrial production and paying insufficient attention to R & D in high-
technology materials.78 A close reading of the U.S. debate reveals the role
played by James Watt and his enthusiasts at the Department of Interior in
pushing the interests of domestic miners on the basis of a non-existent re-
source war.
Contrary to the widespread belief in the West that it is becoming increas-
ingly dependent on the developing countries for essential mineral commodi-
ties, the share of the world output from the developing countries has not
appreciably increased for most of the so-called strategic metals (see Table
4.9). One exception is nickel, where the rise of Cuba, Indonesia, and the
Philippines as producers and the expansion of output in New Caledonia, a
French-occupied territory, have increased the developing countries' output.
With this exception, basic shifts have occurred in the location of world mining
activity over the last three decades. The noted minerals economist John Til-
ton77 delineates some of these for the four strategic metals—cobalt, copper,
manganese and nickel. (1) The developed countries have maintained, and in
some cases expanded, their share of the world mine output of the four metals,
not because the United States and other major industrialized countries have
expanded their domestic production, but rather because of increased produc-
tion from Australia, Canada, and South Africa. (2) Over the last few de-
cades, the number of important metal-producing countries has increased. Aus-
tralia, Finland, and the Philippines have become significant producers of
cobalt; Australia, Peru, the Philippines, Poland, and South Africa, of cop-
per; Australia and Gabon, of manganese; and Australia, Cuba, Indonesia, the
Philippines, and South Africa, of nickel. Tilton points out that the entry of
new countries, coupled with the decline of the major traditional producers,
has reduced the level of country concentration. This, along with a parallel
decline in the concentration at the firm or enterprise level, has strengthened
competition and made it even more difficult in the cobalt and nickel industries
for the dominant producers to control market price and to earn excess profits
over a prolonged period of time. These trends complicate the formation and
maintenance of producer cartels and hence reduce the likelihood of such col-
lusive efforts among producers. They also enhance the security of supply of
the major consuming countries, for now an interruption in output from any
particular producing countries can more easily be made up by other sup-
pliers.78
This situation is not limited to the above four metals alone. In general, a
secular trend is visible. The Western mining interests have shifted away from
the developing countries, to such "safer" countries as Australia, Canada, and
South Africa, thus leading to the decline of the role of mining in the
Third World.79 An examination of American and European mining invest-
ments abroad reveals this (see Table 4.10). It is clear that over the last few
years an increasing share of U.S. direct foreign investment in mining and
smelting has been made in the developed countries—particularly Australia,
New Zealand, Canada, and South Africa. From 1968 to 1978, the share of
U.S. direct investment in developing countries in this sector decreased from
42 to 32 percent. The decrease is even more dramatic when we consider the
fact that in 1950, the Third World's share of U.S. foreign investment in the
mining sector was 60 percent.80 The decline in the share of investment in
the developing countries was not limited to the United States. European in-
vestment and exploration in the minerals sector of the developing countries
fell even more sharply, from 57 percent in 1961 to 13.5 percent during
1973-75.81
How credible, then, is the question of Western strategic mineral depen-
dence on the Third World in general and on the Indian Ocean region in par-
ticular? Are the so-called challenges to resource security just a bunch of
"mineral myths"?82 In fact, there is no consensus even within the United
States over what constitutes "strategic" minerals. The U.S. strategic stockpile
comprises 60 materials. Various other U.S. sources—including private sector
consultants—list between 18 and 31 strategic minerals. But, going along with
Rae Weston,83 we shall count 21 strategic (for the United States) minerals
(see Table 4.11). Over the years, the word "strategic" has often been mis-
used to exaggerate the importance of these minerals. "These minerals bear
the title strategic not because they are critical in certain defense-related uses.
The United States could lose a substantial portion of its strategic mineral im-
ports without facing any threat to its national security."84 The word "strate-
gic" has also been used to imply some kind of Soviet threat, based on worst-
case scenarios and the improbable effects of supply disruption.
Table 4.d11 lists the U.S. dependence on strategic mineral imports. These
figures, published every year by the U.S. Bureau of Mines, have been used
by international relations theorists both in the United States and outside to
suggest the degree of U.S. dependence on mineral resources from the Indian
Ocean littoral. However, the use of these figures has been done uncritically
and without any relation to the nature and character of the dependence. Be-
fore we examine these features, it is necessary to note that the concern over
dependence on foreign minerals is not new. Throughout World War II and
later, every single U.S. administration was concerned with resource depen-
dence and strategic stockpiling, but the issue never became a matter of grave
national security. And most of the U.S. assessments—from the government
and others—were reassuring. Yet the fears have continually been raised to
suit some political or economic objectives.
The Bureau of Mines figures are based on "apparent consumption,"
which ignores the impact of the recycling of metals—a trend on the rise. The
consideration of recycling would lead to a finding of a declining dependence
on imports. Second, the location of mining and the calculation of world re-
serves are based on current economic decisions and do not necessarily indi-
cate the physical existence or the availability of the ore in various areas of
of the world. Therefore, availability is much larger than the figures of cur-
rent reserves indicate.
From Table 4.11 it is clear that the predominant U.S. dependence is on
South Africa and Australia, the two white-settler states in the Indian Ocean
region. The usual threat of supply disruption of strategic minerals is in rela-
tion to South Africa. Indeed, as we noted earlier, the relative importance of
South Africa as a supplier of minerals has increased. This fact is often used
in the West to propagate soft policies toward South Africa, to the detriment
of human rights and democracy in southern Africa as a whole. But the pre-
sumption that a regime change in South Africa would lead to supply disrup-
tions is untenable. The example of Angola, where despite a radical regime
change U.S. oil interests were protected, is a significant pointer. With the
great dependence of the South African economy on extractive industries and
the sale of the minerals in external markets to finance domestic consump-
tion, it is extremely unlikely that any regime in South Africa could force
a supply disruption.
Assuming that such a disruption would indeed take place, either in South
Africa or in its mineral-rich neighborhood, what would be the consequences for
U.S. security? Let us examine the cases of two metals, cobalt and chromium.
Cobalt shows an extreme degree of concentration in two countries in
terms of both production and reserves—Zaire and Zambia. The United States
imports more than 90 percent of its cobalt requirements. Zaire supplies 52
percent of the world's cobalt and Zambia, an additional 11 percent; these
two countries also possess more than 50 percent of world reserves. Cobalt
is critical for the aerospace, electrical, and metal-cutting industries. In 1981,
in the United States, 40 percent of cobalt consumption was for the produc-
tion of super-alloys mainly for the aerospace industry (in aircraft gas turbine
engines), 15 percent for magnetic materials, and another 10 percent for
metal-cutting and mining tool bits; the remaining 35 percent went for other
uses.85 Despite this tremendous significance, a supply disruption of cobalt

would not severely affect U.S. national security, because of recycling substi-
tution and new sources, among other factors. There has been an increasing
recycling of cobalt, and currently about 15 percent of U.S. cobalt comes from
recycled sources. There is already a decreasing U.S. consumption of cobalt—
from 18 million pounds in 1978 to 13.6 million pounds in 1981.86 The U.S.
National Material Advisory Board found that in the making of super-alloys,
significant amounts of cobalt can be substituted with other non-strategic ma-
terials, such as ceramics or other metals.87 Similarly, substitutes have been
found for cobalt in magnetic materials.88 If the price of cobalt goes up dra-
matically—say, through a disruption or cartel action—the now closed co-
balt mines in Idaho would become economical. If the price of cobalt goes up
to $20 per pound from the current range of $7-$12, the U.S. mines would
become economical.89
Such is the case of chromium. The United States ceased all production
of chromium in 1962 and today depends on foreign suppliers for about 90
percent of domestic consumption. South Africa alone supplies 44 percent
of the chrome ore and 71 percent of ferrochrome imported by the United
States, and Zimbabwe supplies an additional 7 percent.90 In the United States,
the metallurgical industry used 57 per cent of imported chromium, the
chemical industry 25 percent, and the refractory industry 18 percent. Ac-
cording to the U.S. Bureau of Mines, scrap recycling of chromium has
reached 9 percent of demand in 1980. The Bureau also pointed out that
73,000 tons of chromium in scrap was lost annually in the United States—
and this could be recovered.91 Substitution possibilities do exist for chro-
mium. The U.S. National Bureau of Standards, in a technical report on the
use of chromium in the steel industry, concluded that "although no other
element is known to produce corrosion resistance comparable to that im-
ported by chromium, the chromium content of the most widely used stain-
less steels, austenitic stainless steels, can be reduced without impairing cor-
rosion resistance in many applications for which the traditional 18 percent
is unnecessary." The NBS also found that "for many specific application of
these materials, other materials without chromium are commercially available
or appear feasible."92 Thus, it appears that "concerns over chromium avail-
ability may be overblown when the full range of substitution, conservation
and improved materials management is considered."93
The two examples of cobalt and chromium indicate quite clearly that
Western civilization and the American way of life are not at risk because
of their dependence on the supply of minerals from the Indian Ocean littoral.
The mineral producers have been unable to form cartels and exercise any
kind of political or economic power, as the oil producers have done. And
such a prospect does not appear feasible. The preceding analysis shows that
the importance of traditional strategic materials is on the decline. As the
materials revolution unfolds, new materials based on emerging breakthroughs
in science and technology will rise in importance. It would be the producers
of traditional minerals—being unable to diversify their economies into mod-
ern sectors—who would be caught in the bind of shrinking Western markets

for these materials. The growth of traditional materials can only take place
in the socialist bloc and the newly industrializing countries of the Third
World. But the entry of new producers like China are likely to further com-
plicate the traditional metal markets.
To be sure, the Western economies will continue to find useful the cheap
minerals from the Indian Ocean littoral. But to suggest that these resources
are so vital and are at such risk to warrant massive force projection into the
region is untenable. "Interdependence," to use a favorite Western academic
term, in resource endowment has been with us for a long time. However, it
is easy and convenient to project this economic interdependence in a one-
sided way to justify a strategic and military posture and mobilize support in-
ternally and externally for predetermined politico-strategic policies based on
certain a priori considerations. But these justifications do not survive the
real test—that of the marketplace for both traditional and non-traditional
metals.
The preceding two lengthy sections on oil and mineral resources were
necessary to clarify the real nature of Western economic interests—often
termed vital—in the Indian Ocean littoral. It is obvious that these economic
interests have been overemphasized by Western and Indian writings on the
Indian Ocean. The articulation of these interests is not supported by the
emerging economic patterns. The sooner this self-imposed straitjacket of eco-
nomic interests is cast away, the better the understanding of the Indian
Ocean situation would be. After the examination of the emerging patterns of
traditional economic issues, we must now move toward the likely conflicts
over new economic uses of the Indian Ocean.
Non-Living Resources in the Region
The new regime of the oceans has greatly expanded coastal state jurisdic-
tion through the concept of the exclusive economic zone (EEZ). Within the
Indian Ocean littoral, the largest beneficiaries of the new regime have been
Indonesia, India, Madagascar, Australia, and South Africa. The smaller is-
land states, such as Sri Lanka, Maldives, Mauritius, and the Seychelles, have
EEZs relatively large in comparison to their land areas. A few countries have
benefited from the possession of island territories far from the mainland—
India (Lakshadweep, and Andaman and Nicobar), Australia (Cocos Is-
lands), and South Africa (Prince Edward Islands). More interestingly, terri-
torial possessions of extra-regional powers have also resulted in extensive
EEZs relative to the size of the territories. Great Britain (and the United
States) benefits from the possession of the British Indian Ocean Territory;
and France, from the possession of various islands in and around the Mo-
zambique channel—the Europa, Bassas da India, Juan deNova, Mayotte,
Glorieuses, Tromelin, and La Reunion. The French benefits are even more
significant in the southern Indian Ocean, via the islands of Crozet Kergue-
len, Amsterdam, and Saint Paul. The economic significance of the EEZs of
these extra-regional powers is not clear and is likely to unfold only in the
future. Figure 4.2 indicates the distribution of non-living resources in the
Indian Ocean.
Of primary interest among these resources would be, of course, offshore
hydrocarbons, mostly occurring on the continental margins (which fall under
the EEZs). Table 4.12 indicates the trends in offshore oil production in the
Indian Ocean littoral. A large fraction of this offshore production, of course,
comes from the Persian Gulf, and the decline in 1981 of offshore oil pro-
FIGURE 4.2. EEZs and Natural Resources in the Indian Ocean

duction is also due to cutbacks from this region. What is more significant
is the emergence of new offshore producers such as India, Indonesia, Malay-
sia, and Brunei, among others. There are many reasons to believe that de-
spite a glut in the world oil market and an excess capacity, interest in off-
shore hydrocarbons will continue to rise in the Indian Ocean littoral. This
region has not been fully explored for hydrocarbons and it is expected that
there is considerable potential there. Second, oil consumption in the devel-
oping countries of this region will continue to grow at a rapid pace. Unlike
in the West, where the demand for oil is declining, oil needs will rise in this
region.94 This is particularly true of the high-growth economies of South-
east Asia, and also of South Asia. A vast majority of the countries in the
region, other than those of the Gulf, are oil importers. The high prices of oil
imports impose a heavy burden on their economies, so the incentive for do-
mestic production of oil is very high. Oil exploration activity in the seas of
the Indian Ocean is on the rise, and will continue to be very significant.95
For example, India has undertaken a massive offshore oil development
program through its state company, the Oil and Natural Gas Commission
(ONGC). Though the Indian offshore oil exploration commenced in 1962,
it was only in the 1970s that it was taken up in earnest. With the discovery
in 1974 of the hydrocarbons at Bombay High, a large area located 70-120
miles northwest of Bombay, India's offshore oil production began to surge.
From zero oil production in 1975-76, it rose to an estimated 20.8 million
tons in 1985-86, providing almost two-thirds of the total crude oil production
in the country.96
The ONGC has been conducting extensive seismic surveys in the Indian
continental shelf, an area of 145,000 square miles, and the continental slope,
155,000 square miles. The success ratio of exploration drilling is said to be
encouraging.97 Besides the Bombay offshore region, where the majority of
reserves lie, the ONGC has discovered oil in the Godawari, Krishna, and
Palk Bay basins and gas in Andaman offshore. Indications of gas have also
been discovered in structures off Pondicherry. Most of the gas is only now
being put to good use. The gas from Bombay High is being used to generate
electricity at a 240-MW power station near Bombay and being fed to a
number of chemical and fertilizer plants. It is also being used to run a large
500-MW power station in Bombay. Work has begun on a gigantic cross-
country gas pipeline that will feed natural gas from the Western offshore
to six fertilizer plants and three power stations.
The current Indian strategy is aimed at building self-reliance in offshore
oil exploration and development. Though much more needs to be done, India
has already acquired significant capabilities from its initiation of oil explora-
tion and the construction and installation of offshore platforms.98 India has
also begun, with Japanese collaboration, the construction of highly sophisti-
cated and technologically complex drill ships at its yard in Vishakapatnam.
By 1988, India owned 20 drill ships and jack-up rigs, ten of which had
been manufactured in the country.99 India has an ambitious oil develop-
ment program for its Seventh Plan, proposing to invest about Rs. 18,000
crores ($13.8 billion), a significant portion of which would go for offshore
development.
There has been a considerable rise in the offshore oil development activi-
ties of other countries of the region, particularly in East and Southeast Asia.
The excitement about oil potential in the South China Sea has been dampened
by discouraging results from exploratory drilling activity. Further, the col-
lapse of oil prices also meant a waning of enthusiasm among the Western
oil companies that dominate offshore oil exploration in Asia. With their limi-
tations of their investment budgets, they focus only on areas where drilling
risks are lower and costs cheaper. However, few Asian areas fit this de-
scription.100
Nevertheless, the offshore oil resource development in the South China
Sea holds the potential of regional conflict, which could end up being inter-
nationalized with the intervention of extra-regional powers. A large number
of unresolved disputes over island territories and maritime boundary limita-
tion among the states of the region cast a long shadow over oil resource de-
velopment there.101 The riparian states and territories of the South China
Sea are: the Peoples' Republic of China, Taiwan, the Philippines, Malaysia,
Brunei, Indonesia, Singapore, Vietnam, Macao, and Hong Kong. (Thailand
and Kampuchea also enter the picture, if the Gulf of Thailand is taken into
account.) While the eventual Chinese control of Hong Kong and Macao
appears assured, Taiwan is likely to remain an intractable issue.
The unique geography, the long history of the ebb and flow of control
over the South China Sea, coupled with the expanding jurisdictions under
the new Law of the Sea regime have created a host of overlapping claims and
counter-claims over territory. The sheer complexity of these claims over is-
lands can be seen in Table 4.13. Two Chinese claimants and three other dis-
putants are involved. The competition for resources has aggravated already
serious Sino-Vietnamese political and military tensions. The efforts of the
riparian states in relation to offshore hydrocarbon development have dif-
fered from country to country, but for each of them, offshore exploration
and jurisdictional disputes have been interwoven. A discovery or claim in
one area of the region has stimulated activity elsewhere, boosting the spiral
of claims and counter-claims.
Of particular interest is the policy of China, which dramatically expanded
its offshore activity since the late 1970s. Chinese offshore oil activity is not
only integral to its planned rapid growth and access to Western technology,
but also helps it in buttressing its claims to disputed territories:
Foreign firms leasing in disputed areas confer legitimacy on Beijing's
claims and prevent the same firms from becoming involved in prospecting
for other claimants. Should oil companies lease tracts that only partially
overlap disputed zones far offshore, in deep water, the firms would be
relatively secure in proceeding to drill in the high-potential, near-shore
areas. The Chinese would benefit by having leased an area that extends
into disputed waters and thus obtained "international" recognition of their

claims.102
Among the other factors bordering the South China Sea, Indonesia, Ma-
laysia, Brunei, and the Philippines already obtain significant amounts of their
oil production from offshore areas. If they extend their activity farther ashore,
they would enter disputed zones. The Philippines has reportedly drilled,
though without much success, in the disputed Reed Bank area. Indonesia has
begun development of areas in the South China Sea. Its efforts near the Na-
tuna Islands have stimulated counter-claims by Vietnam and China.
After unification, Vietnam arranged for three Western companies to ex-
plore the offshore area south of Vietnam. While the Western companies have
reduced their efforts, the Soviet Union has now entered the fray. In 1981,
the Soviet Union and Vietnam set up a joint enterprise to conduct surveys in
the areas as well as elsewhere in Vietnam. Parts of this area South of Viet-
nam has overlapping Chinese, Thai, and Indonesian claims. The Chinese pur-
suit of offshore oil in ever more hostile environments such as the Gulf of
Tonkin has rekindled jurisdictional disputes there. Although there is no con-
firmation of serious Vietnamese exploration in the Gulf of Tonkin, Chinese
finds in the vicinity are likely to provoke tensions.
While the potential for oil-related conflicts is latent in the South China
Sea, there has also been interest in cooperative ventures in offshore de-
velopment in the region. Malaysia and Thailand on the one hand and Viet-
nam and Indonesia on the other are considering such possibilities.
Maritime conflicts are also likely over South Asian waters. In the Anda-
man Sea to the west of Thailand, a Thai dispute remains with Burma but
has not intensified in view of the disappointing results from recent drilling
in Burma's own offshore waters. In the South Asian waters, India is yet to
complete the process of delineating its maritime boundaries with all of its
neighbors. During 1975-76, India and Sri Lanka settled their maritime boun-
daries in Palk Bay, the Palk straits, and the Gulf of Mannar; in 1977, India
and Indonesia demarcated the 300-mile long maritime boundary between
them; in 1978, India and Thailand settled the 94-mile-long boundary line be-
tween them; in 1979, India signed an agreement with the Maldives on the
maritime border;103 and in early 1984, India demarcated its maritime boun-
dary with Burma.
However, until now India has not succeeded in its attempts to resolve the
maritime boundary issues with Pakistan and Bangladesh. Discussions with
Pakistan on the delineation of the maritime boundary in Sind and Gujarat
waters have not yielded fruit. Maritime relations with Bangladesh have been
tense. In 1981, Bangladesh challenged India's right to ownership of the
newly emerged New Moore Island off the Sunderbans. Bangladesh deployed
gunboats against an unarmed Indian survey ship, and India in turn deployed
the I.N.S. Andaman. While this situation has been defused, no solution is in
sight to resolve the basic dispute on delimitation. Given the current state
of political unease, it does not appear likely that India can quickly resolve
the maritime disputes with Pakistan and Bangladesh. As all three countries
step up their offshore oil exploration activities, there are possibilities of ten-
sions rising. For example, Pakistan alleged in July 1984 that an Indian
drilling rig was operating in its area.104
Besides oil, the other major issue in non-living resources is the develop-
ment of manganese nodules on the deep seabed in the Indian Ocean. Table
4.1 shows the location of manganese nodules on the Indian Ocean floor.
However, the Indian Ocean is not as rich in manganese nodules as the Pacific
Ocean (see Table 4.14). Also, the content of the metallic nodules of the
Indian Ocean is not as rich as those in the Pacific Ocean (see Table 4.15).
But the Indian Ocean nodules are superior to those in the Atlantic in nickel,
cobalt, and copper content.
India has launched a massive program for the exploration of manganese
nodules and their eventual mining. It is one of the few countries to have
qualified for the "Pioneer Investor" status under the new Law of the Sea
regime. It is also the only country in the Indian Ocean littoral evincing in-
terest in deep-seabed mining. India dramatically entered the international
arena of seabed mining in 1981, when its research vessel Gaveshani scooped
up manganese nodules from the Indian Ocean floor. From then on, the Gave-
shani and two other hired research vessels have carried out extensive sur-
veys in the Indian ocean for the nodules.
Under the regulations of the Preparatory Commission (Prepcom) for the
International Seabed Authority (ISA), a nodule mining site should have a
minimum nodule abundance of 5 kq/sq. m. and preferably more than 10
kg/sq. m.; should possess at least 2.47 percent of nickel, copper, and cobalt;
and the minimum reserves should total about 60 million tons. The Indian
Department of Ocean Development, which has been appointed by the govern-
ment of India as the "Pioneer Investor," has submitted proposals on a mining
site to the Prepcom. While the exact coordinates are confidential, the site
is said to be in the Central Indian Basin. The ISA would divide the site into
two areas of equal commercial value and keep one for itself.
The main rationale for seabed mining in India is its continuing shortage
of non-ferrous metals. For example, in 1978 India imported all its require-
ments of nickel and cobalt, 77 percent of copper, and 50 percent of zinc.
The mining of polymetallic nodules would in time affect these figures. But
the costs of ocean mining ventures could be daunting. According to some
estimates, India would have to invest Rs. 1000 ($768 million) in order to
acquire the capacity to mine and process a million tons of these nodules.
It has been argued by some that the benefits of such an investment might
not be commensurate with its magnitude.105 It has also been argued that
current international prices of the metals to be mined may not justify seabed
mining.106
However, there are valid reasons to support a continued Indian R & D
program in seabed mining. The wealth of scientific and engineering knowl-
edge obtained from the program would be of immense value in the overall
ocean development activity. Secondly, the R & D effort would suitably posi-
tion India to take advantage of seabed mining if and when it becomes com-
mercially viable.
And India has been stepping up its R & D effort. With the acquisition
of a sophisticated oceanographic research vessel, the Sagar Kanya, from
West Germany in mid-1983, at a cost of Rs. 12 crores ($9.2 million), the
exploratory part of the program is strengthened. Samples of nodules col-
lected have been analyzed and a laboratory scale method has been attempted
for efficient recovery of metals; and plans are on to move to the pilot-plant
level. Insofar as the crucial mining part is concerned, India is reviewing the
technologies already available and expediting the development of a most ef-
ficient design for mining.107 The Indian Council of Scientific and Industrial
Research has undertaken a massive multi-agency and multi-institutional proj-
ect, with over 19 laboratories participating in the nodule program and with
the National Institute of Oceanography (NIO) as the lead institution. Ac-
cording to current plans, India hopes to commission a prototype seabed
mining system by 1996, and commercial mining is projected to take place by
about 2010.108
In its seabed mining efforts, India is unlikely to get into conflict with
any littoral state. The conflict with the United States is not specific but
stems from the U.S opposition to the Law of the Sea Treaty and the Inter-
national Seabed Authority. The Reagan Administration and the Thatcher
government have remained steadfast in their opposition to the Treaty. At the
1982 UNCLOS, a number of Western mining companies were allowed to
be named as Pioneer Investors as a concession to the West and as an induce-
ment for the United States to sign the Treaty. With some of the Western
powers (the United States, Great Britain, West Germany, Italy, Belgium,
and the Netherlands) refusing to join the Treaty, the status of the Pioneer
Investors (in which category the companies of the above states participate)
has come under a cloud. The LOS rules require that the nine Pioneer In-
vestors—four Western consortia, one Japanese consortium, plus the four
state-owned companies of the Soviet Union, France, China, and India (see
Table 4.16)—should settle overlapping seabed claims among themselves
before the permission to mine is given by the ISA. But permission is granted
to only those countries (and their consortia) that have signed the Treaty.
The Treaty will come into force after 60 countries have formally ratified it.
And once this happens, the Pioneer Investors of those states that have not
signed it will be reckoned out of bidding. While the U.S. companies (and
perhaps the British ones too) can hope to "rely on the U.S. Navy to back
their claims," the other European powers are not so sure.109 In August 1987,
India became the first investor to be formally registered by the U.N. Pre-
paratory Commission for the Seabed Authority. India has thus obtained ex-
clusive rights to an area of about 20,000 square miles in the Indian Ocean.110
The overlapping claims of the Soviet Union, Japan, and France in the Pa-
cific have reportedly been resolved, and the three countries' claims are ex-
pected to be registered by the end of 1987.
Living Resources in the Region
Among the living resources, fisheries is the most important emerging issue in
the Indian Ocean region. Unfortunately, until today the Indian Ocean has not
proved to be a productive fishing ground. It only contributes about 5 percent
of the world's fish catch; in contrast, 53 percent of the catch comes from the
Pacific and 40 percent from the Atlantic (see Table 4.17). Compared to
the current catch of about 3.5 million metric tons (mmt), the estimates of
potential catch vary from 7 mmt to 17 mmt.111
However, fishing capabilities in the Indian Ocean are very low (see Table
4.18) when compared with the capabilities of South Korea (873 trawlers and
vessels of 329,109 gross registered tons (grt) and 31 factory ships of 68,452
grt) and Taiwan (266 trawlers and vessels of 81,913 grt). A considerable
portion of the catch in the Indian Ocean has been taken by non-local fleets—
namely, those of Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan. For example, in 1972,
out of 2.6 mmt of Indian Ocean catch, 0.29 mmt was taken away by the
non-local fleets. With the proclamation of EEZs, the situation has changed.112
Now large fishing nations like South Korea are acquiring fishing concessions
from coastal states in the region.
Although India was in the top ten fishing nations of the world during
1978-81, there is considerable potential for improvement. The Indian marine
catch doubled from 1.4 mmt in 1981 to 2.8 mmt in 1985.113 However, fishing
operations are largely inefficient and limited to coastal areas. Higher levels
of future expansion would have to be based upon scientific exploration and
mapping of fishery resources. At the end of 1984, India acquired a new ves-
sel, the Sagar Sampada, for fisheries and oceanographic research from Den-
mark at a cost of Rs. 15.29 crores ($11.5 million).114 Future expansion
would also be based on an increased emphasis upon mariculture, whose po-
tential is enormous along the Indian coast.115
Indian fishery objectives do not clash in the long term with Western
powers, who do not fish in the Indian Ocean. It might come into conflict
with the fleets of South Korea and Taiwan. One other potential source of
conflict could be the large number of unsettled maritime disputes in the
South Asian and Southeast Asian waters, which we had noted in relation to
offshore oil.
Antarctic Issues
Hitherto, the problems of an Antarctic regime have had little or no impact

on the Indian Ocean debate. However, with the focusing of world attention
on Antarctica—at the United Nations, NAM, and other fora and by the
countries of the Indian Ocean littoral—Antarctic problems are likely to as-
sume greater significance. The permanent presence of India now on the south-
ern continent underscores the country's interest. Antarctic resources are
drawing worldwide attention, and the expectations have been high regarding
the "last great land rush" on our planet.116 The Antarctic krill has already
emerged as the basis of a major world fishery. There is also rising interest
in the Antarctic mineral resources, which include hydrocarbons and precious
metals.
Until the early 1980s, Antarctic affairs were largely insulated from world
politics and quietly managed by the 14 Antarctic Treaty powers. The Ant-
arctic Treaty of 1959 was a compromise worked out between seven claimant
states—Great Britain, France, Norway, Australia, New Zealand, Argentina,
and Chile—and five non-claimants—the United States, the Soviet Union,
Belgium, Japan, and South Africa—to further scientific cooperation achieved
in Antarctica during the International Geophysical Year (1957-58). The
claims were frozen, no new claims were to be made, and the continent was
denuclearized and demilitarized. But the Treaty had a peculiar two-tier struc-
ture. The decision making was concentrated in the 12 original parties—called
consultative members—each of whom had veto power over any decision.
All the states were welcome to join the Treaty and abide by the decisions
of the consultative parties, without any say in the decision making. Consulta-
tive status was open only to those states undertaking substantive scientific
research on the continent. Two states—Poland and West Germany—were
given the status in the late 1970s.117 The condition for membership was a
capacity to undertake technologically sophisticated and financially expensive
expeditions to the continent, beyond the reach of most countries. The exclu-
sivity and high price demand for membership drew increasing criticism from
the developing states, who wanted internationalization of the continent by
declaring it the common heritage of mankind. This demand from the South
grew strident in the late 1970s and early 1980s, and the Antarctic powers
became concerned.
It was at this stage that India entered the scene, in 1981-82, when the
first Indian expedition reached Antarctica. While the Indian government main-
tained that its interest was purely scientific,118 the West was apprehensive of
its real intentions.118 Indian observers themselves believed that India would
challenge the dominance of Antarctica by a few nations and take up the
cause of the common-heritage principle on behalf of the Third World.120
And when India joined the Treaty and was immediately granted consulta-
tive status, there was disbelief even in India. But it appears that India kept
its options open from the outset regarding joining the Treaty. Mrs. Gandhi
told the Parliament in February 1982 that India had no "political motives"
in sending the expedition, but she did not think "any part of the globe
should be reserved for any affluent country." At the same time, she stated
that "there must have been some good reason" for not signing the Treaty
earlier, but she also indicated that the matter would be "gone into again."121
Thus, the question of joining the Treaty was kept open.
The Treaty powers themselves were keen to deflect criticism of the Treaty
and expand the participation to include at least those countries that could
not be stopped for too long. Thus, both India and Brazil were granted con-
sultative status, and they were followed by China. In the eyes of other
third world countries, India had defected to the side of the advanced coun-
tries by joining the treaty.122 While this is not correct, India is indeed in a
delicate position. India is committed to the Economic Declaration of the
1983 NAM summit, which for the first time included a reference to Antarc-
tica, urging that the continent be "accessible to all nations" and that "the
exploration of the area and the exploitation of its resources shall be car-
ried out for the benefit of all mankind."123 The final phrasing is said to
be a toned-down version of Malaysia's proposal to declare the area as a
common heritage of mankind. By the time the United Nations took up the
issue for debate for the first time, in December 1983, India was already a
member of the Treaty. But, unlike the other members of the Antarctic club,
India supported the Malaysian resolution urging the U.N. Secretary General
to undertake a comprehensive study of the Antarctica issue.
The challenge before the Indian Antarctic policy is to evolve a flexible
posture avoiding a confrontation between North and South over Antarctica
and at the same time utilize its position within the Treaty to expand the in-
terests of the Third World states in Antarctica.124 That India is trying to steer
this difficult course was indicated by the state Minister for Science and Tech-
nology in 1984, at a New Delhi conference on Antarctica.125
India's Ocean Policy and the United States
Though India has had a long maritime tradition, it declined as a maritime

power and Indians came to regard themselves as a nation of "landlubbers."
Thanks to a long coastline and 1200 islands in two stretches on either side,
India has acquired economic sovereignty over a vast stretch of the ocean
surface. Unlike most other states of the Indian littoral, India has woken up—
although belatedly—to the great possibilities in the oceans. India has launched
a multifaceted ocean development program that is far-reaching in scope and
ambitious in terms of objectives. The achievements till now in offshore oil
development, seabed mineral exploration, Antarctica, and fisheries are con-
siderable.
Coordinating the overall maritime development activity in India is the
Department of Ocean Development (DOD). Set up in July 1981, the Depart-
ment was entrusted with the planning and coordination of oceanographic re-
search and development, establishment of research facilities, management of
ocean data, and development of manpower and marine technology. An ocean
policy statement issued in November 1982 called for a "coordinated, cen-
tralized and highly sophisticated response" to the challenge of ocean resource
development, optimum utilization of ocean resources while protecting its
maritime environment, and the acquisition of basic knowledge and the de-
velopment of appropriate ocean technology for Indian needs. Self-reliance
was stated as a major objective in ocean development. "An important com-
ponent of the development program should be the acquisition of technology.
To be self-reliant, such technologies would have to be largely developed,

tested and operated indigenously."126
Although India's maritime achievements are already considerable, its
requirements and needs are many. Ocean development will have to be based
on advanced science and high technology, and India will have to do exten-
sive surveys of surrounding seas in order to obtain the knowledge and skills
upon which exploitation has to be based. Survey ships, modern oceanographic
instrumentation based on sophisticated electronics, computer capacity to pro-
cess ocean data, a research base, and trained manpower are important re-
quirements for the development of the ocean sciences in India. And for ex-
ploitation of ocean resources, India will need a wide range of capabilities—
ships and various offshore platforms, as well as underwater technology, par-
ticularly subsea systems and submersible vehicle technology.
Although self-reliance is the objective, India will certainly require scien-
tific and technological assistance from outside, at least in the initial phases.
And India has been scouting for technological cooperation with various ad-
vanced maritime powers. A number of countries—including France, Ger-
many, Norway, Denmark, and Japan, among others—have been eager to
participate in India's ocean development activity. But, surprisingly, the United
States has shown little or no interest in cooperating with India. More than
that, the United States has refused to provide the C-130 transport aircraft
for India's Antarctic missions. It might be wrong to conclude that the United
States was blocking India's scientific development, but the fact remains that
an opportunity for cooperation was missed. It was indeed a surprising change
in the attitude of the United States, which had eagerly cooperated with India
in the early phases of atomic energy and space development.
As the Indian Ocean development activity unfolds, the Indian profile in
the area will be more visible. The current plans call for a great expansion of
Indian economic activities in the Indian Ocean, thus increasing its stake in
the ocean and the demand for peace and stability in the region. As its "off-
shore estate" becomes larger, its navy too will be more visible and take on
the new role of not only protecting the offshore estate, but also providing
scientific and technical support. As Indian naval visibility expands along with
its expanding economic interest in the Indian Ocean, it is likely to raise
concerns among its neighbors, who would most certainly regard it as a naval
threat from India. Given the linkages of India's neighbors to the United
States, America could be tempted to expand naval military assistance to its
neighbors, thus increasing the tension in the seas. For reasons dealt with by
Subrahmanyam in Chapter 5, the idea of a maritime threat from India is
not a credible one and therefore should not form the basis of a security
relationship between extra-regional powers and littoral nations. India has a
modest program of cooperation with other neighboring countries in regard
to ocean development. For example, India plans to conduct EEZ surveys of
the Seychelles and train its manpower in Indian institutions; and India of-
fered a seat to Mauritius on the second Indian Antarctic expedition, of which
Mauritius could not avail itself but has decided to do so in the future.
And India has already begun cooperation in ocean research with Sri Lanka.
Two Sri Lankan scientists participated in one of the Gaveshani's cruises in
1983-84. In the same year, India sent two scientists to Sri Lanka to assist in
the development of its marine science infrastructure. 127 India is also assisting
the island state of the Seychelles in the survey of its EEZ area and in the
development of seaweeds.128
Our review of the emerging Indian economic interests in the Indian Ocean
shows no direct clash with U.S. economic interests in the region. In fact, there
are opportunities for cooperation. In some areas the interests are comple-
mentary, such as stability and security in the Persian Gulf region. The real
Indian conflict with the United States is on the issue of U.S. naval force pro-
jection into the region, its overall strategy toward the landmass of the lit-
toral, and the U.S. stand on the Law of the Sea Treaty, which had been
drafted after seven years of meticulous effort of U.S. negotiators like Elliott
Richardson. The U.S. force projection into the region has always been justi-
fied on the grounds of vital U.S. economic interests in the region. As we have
seen, the issues of energy security and resource security of the United States
and its allies in the region have been overblown. The rhetoric on oil and re-
source security does not match the reality. The expansion of the U.S. force
projection into the Indian Ocean at a time of its declining dependence on oil
and other resources of the region cannot be rationally explained by economic
interests and motivations. The real reasons appear to be different from the
declared ones—namely, pursuit of a neo-Dullcsian policy of containment of
Soviet landmass.
Insofar as the emerging economic issues of the region are concerned the
future will most probably be unlike the past:
Oil and the Gulf. The issue will not be energy security but maintaining the
Gulf boom, an important market for Western Goods and regional labor. The
collapse of the oil market will have profound consequences for the world
economy in new and unforeseen ways. There have been suggestions from
the Indian Prime Minister on an international conference of producers and
consumers of oil and offers from Soviet President Brezhnev and Premier Gor-
bachev to negotiate on Gulf security and Indian Ocean force reductions. The
total lack of response from the United States on these two proposals will
raise problems of credibility about the U.S. energy security concerns.
Non-fuel resources. The issue would no longer be "access" to non-fuel
minerals, but markets for these minerals, produced in Indian Ocean region.
Offshore oil and fisheries. The priority would be to create an appropriate
political climate for resolving the maritime disputes in the South China Sea
and South Asian waters, which have the potential of exploding into wider
conflicts.
Seabed minerals and Antarctica. The challenge is to evolve a global ap-
proach to manage these resources, a process made difficult by the U.S. re-
jection of the Law of the Sea Treaty after it had been negotiated.
The growing militarization of the Indian Ocean, and the increasing U.S.
tendency to view all the regional issues through the prism of strategic con-
frontation with the Soviet Union offer little hope that the emerging economic
issues of the Indian Ocean region will be dealt with in a constructive spirit
in the near term.
Notes
1. Elizabeth Mann Borgese, "The Sea and The Dreams of Man," Impact of
Science and Society No. 3/4 (1983), pp. 479-490.
2. For a competent review of energy production from the sea, see L. Donald
Maus, "Energy From the Oceans: Its Development and Delivery," in J. J. Bartell,
ed., The Yankee Mariner & Sea Power (Los Angeles: University of Southern
California Press, 1982), pp. 195-221.
3. "Food and Population: A Time for Reassessment," in Ritchie Calder, ed.,
The Future of a Troubled World (London: Heinemann, 1983), p. 73.
4. Clarence P. Idyll, "Food From the Sea," in Bartell, op. cit., p. 243.
5. For a detailed status of aquaculture, see T. V. R. Pillay, "Return to the
Sea—Not as Hunter But as Farmer," Impact of Science on Society, No. 3/4
(1983), pp. 445-452.
6. Elizabeth Mann Borgese, "The Future in the Oceans," in Calder, op. cit.,
p. 83.
7. Pillay, op. cit., p. 448.
8. For an examination of seaweed culture, see Akio Miura, "Seaweed Culti-
vation: Present Practices and Potentials," in Elizabeth Mann Borgese and Norton
Ginsburg, eds., Ocean Yearbook 2 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980),
pp. 57-68.
9. David Dickson, "Deep Sea Mining: United States Rethink," Nature (Lon-
don), Vol. 295 (January 21, 1982), pp. 182-183.
10. Alexander Malahoff, "Polymetallic Nodules from the Oceans to the Con-
tinents," Sea Technology, January 1982, pp. 51-55.
11. Peter Rothe, "Marine Geology: Mineral Resources from the Sea," Impact
of Science on Society, No. 3/4 (1983), p. 363.
12. Elizabeth Mann Borgese, "The Future of the Oceans," in Calder, op. cit.,
p. 83.
13. Robert E. Osgood, "Military Implications of the New Ocean Politics,"
Power at Sea: The New Environment, Adelphi Paper No. 122 (London: IISS,
1975), p. 10.
14. The following account is heavily borrowed from P. Lewis Young, "The
Law of the Sea and Potential Conflicts in Asia," Asian Defence Journal (Kuala
Lumpur), No. 4 (1984), pp. 26-33.
15. Ibid., p. 28.
16. Ibid., p. 30.
17. John Norton Moore, "Ocean Resource Competition as a Source of Con-
flict" in W. J. Taylor and S. A. Maaranen, eds., The Future of Conflict in the
1980s (Lexington, Mass.: D.C. Heath, 1982), p. 47.
18. Christopher C. Joyner, "Offshore Maritime Terrorism: International Im-
plications and the Legal Response," Naval War College Review 36, 4 (July-
August 1983), pp. 16-31.
19. Hedley Bull, "Sea Power and Political Influence," Adelphi Paper, No. 122,
(London: International Institute of Strategic Studies, 1981), p. 1.
20. Adm. S. G. Gorshkov, The Sea Power of the State (Oxford: Pergamon,
1979, p. 1.
21. Geoffrey Kemp, "Maritime Access and Maritime Power: The Past, the
Persian Gulf and the Future," in Alvin J. Cottrell et al., Sea Power and Strategy
in the Indian Ocean (London: Sage, 1981), pp. 45-46.
22. Adm. Elmo R. Zumwalt, "20th Century Mahan," Proceedings of the U.S.
Naval Institute, November 1974, pp. 70-73.
23. Bull, op. cit., p. 4.
24. Geoffrey Kemp, "Scarcity and Strategy," Foreign Affairs 56, 2 (January
1978), pp. 396-414.
25. See Guy Pauker, Military Implications of a Possible World Order Crisis
in the 1980s, Rand Report, R-2003AF, 1977.
26. Vice Adm. Edward S. Briggs, Deputy Commander-in-Chief, U.S. Pacific
Fleet, "New Directions over Old Sea Lanes," in Don Walsh and Marjorie Cap-
pelari, eds., Energy and Sea Power: Challenge for the Decade (Oxford: Pergamon,
1981), p. 50.
27. Geoffrey Till, Maritime Strategy and the Nuclear Age, 2nd ed. (London:
Macmillan, 1984), pp. 203-205.
28. P. K. S. Nambooridi, "Intervention in the Indian Ocean," in K. Subrah-
manyam, ed., The Second Cold War (New Delhi: ABC, 1983), p. 57.
29. B. M. Blechman and S. S. Kaplan, Force Without War: U.S. Armed Forces
as a Political Instrument (Washington, D.C.: Brookings, 1978).
30. This and the following facts are from Dieter Braun, The Indian Ocean:
Region of Conflict or Zone of Peace (New Delhi: Oxford, 1983), pp. 8-9.
31. Cited in Briggs, op. cit., p. 58.
32. Ibid.
33. Kemp, "Maritime Access and Maritime Power," op. cit., pp. 63-64.
34. K. Subrahmanyam, op. cit., p. 19.
35. Alan Dowty, "Oil Power in the 1980s," Jerusalem Journal of International
Affairs 6, 3 (1982-83), p. 87.
36. See Yusif A. Sayigh, "Arab Economic Strategy in a Changing World Oil
Market," Third World Quarterly 6, 1 (January 1984), p. 43.
37. See Edward L. Morse, "After the Fall: the Politics of Oil," Foreign Affairs
64, 4 (Spring 1986), pp. 792-811.
38. Petroleum Economist, August 1987, p. 324.
39. Danny J. Boggs, Deputy Secretary, U.S. Department of Energy, in Eco-
nomic Impact, No. 3 (1984), p. 32.
40. "Oil and the Gulf—A Survey," The Economist, July 28, 1984, p. 14.
41. Ibid.
42. "Supplies of Oil 'Secure' Despite New Tension," Financial Times, August
5, 1987, p. 1.
43. Fred S. Singer, "An end to OPEC? Bet on the Market," Foreign Policy,
No. 45, pp. 115-121.
44. Dowty, op. cit., p. 90.
45. Thomas H. Moorcr and Reginald Brown, "The Persian Gulf: Upheavals,
Instability and Preventive Presence," Sea Power, April 15, 1984, p. 21.
46. See Mark Potts, "No World Oil Crisis Seen in Gulf Tension," International
Herald Tribune, August 12, 1987; Lee A. Daniels, "Despite Gulf Tensions, Oil
Stockpiles Point to a Price Decline," ibid., August 14, 1987.
47. Daniel Pipes, "Breaking All the Rules: American Debate Over Middle
East," International Security 9, 2 (Fall 1984), p. 140.
48. Ibid., p. 144.
49. Caspar Weinberger, Annual Report to the Congress FY 1985, February 1,
1984, p. 173.
50. Jeffrey Record, "Jousting with Unreality: Reagan's Military Strategy,"
International Security 5, 3 (Winter 1983-84), p. 10.
51. International Financial Statistics Yearbook (Washington: International
Monetary Fund, 1985), pp. 37, 39.
52. "Changing Business Climate: No More Quick Returns," Middle East Re-
view, 1986, 12th Ed. (1985), pp. 23-25.
53. Fred Halliday, "Labour Migration in the Arab World," MERIP Reports,
No. 123 (May 1984), pp. 7-8.
54. For an analysis, see Nazli Choucri, "Migration in the Middle East: Trans-
formation and Change," Middle East Review 16, 2 (Winter 1983-84), pp. 16-25.
55. Business Week, July 2, 1979, p. 46.
56. Robert A. Kilmarx, "Strategic Minerals Competition as a Source of Con-
flict," in Taylor and Maaranen, op. cit., p. 49.
57. S. S. Bhattacharya, "Economic Interests of the Big Powers in the Indian
Ocean Region," 1DSA Journal 10, 3 (January-March 1978), p. 262.
58. Namboodiri, op. cit., p. 59.
59. Martin Rodetzki, "Economic Maturity Recession and Consumption of
Base Materials," Resources Policy 9, 2 (June 1983), p. 75.
60. For a general overview, see "Metals: A Survey," Financial Times, Oc-
tober 9, 1984.
61. Strategic Materials Management, March 1, 1984, p. 3.
62. Ibid.
63. "Industry Outlooks: Nonferrous Metals," Business Week, January 9,
1984, p. 49.
64. "Metals: A Survey," op. cit.
65. Ibid.
66. Strategic Materials Management, January 15, 1984, p. 4.
67. Strategic Materials Management, April 15, 1984, p. 4.
69. Ibid.
70. "Alloy Makers React to Composite Gains," Aviation Week & Space Tech-
nology, September 24, 1984, pp. 57-63.
71. "Composites Have Sikorsky Flying High," Business Week, July 9, 1984,
p. 51.
73. U.S. National Science Foundation, The Five Year Outlook: Problems, Op-
portunities and Constraints in Science and Technology, Vol. II (Washington; NSF,
1980), p. 191.
74. Summary of Prof. James Mueller's briefing to the U.S. National Strategic
Materials and Minerals Program Advisory Committee on September 19, 1984, in
Strategic Materials Management, October 1, 1984, p. 5.
75. Quoted in Strategic Materials Management, July 1, 1983, p. 1.
76. Strategic Materials Management, April 15, 1984, pp. 3-4.
77. John E. Tilton, The Impact of Seabed Nodule Mining: A Qualitative
Analysis, RR-83-83 (Laxenberg, Austria: International Institute for Applied Sys-

tems Analysis, December 1983), pp. 6-9.
78. Ibid., p. 8.
79. Michael Tanzer, The Race for Resources: Continuing Struggles over Min-
erals and Fuels (London: Heinemann, 1980), pp. 201-209.
80. Amos A. Jordan and Robert A. Kilmarx, "Strategic Mineral Dependence:
The Stockpile Dilemma," Washington Papers, no. 70; (London: Sage, 1982)
"Nonfuel Minerals: U.S. Investment Abroad," Washington Papers, No. 23 (Lon-
don: Sage, 1975).
81. Jordan and Kilmarx, ibid. (1982), p. 30.
82. Michael Shafer, "Mineral Myths," Foreign Policy, no. 47 (Summer 1982),
pp. 154-171.
83. Rae Weston, Strategic Materials: A Survey (London: Croom Helm, 1984),
pp. 1-10.
84. Shafer, op. cit, p. 159.
85. Weston, op. cit., p. 18.
86. Strategic Materials Management, August 15, 1983, p. 1.
87. Ibid.
88. Strategic Materials Management, March 1, 1984, p. 4.
89. Strategic Materials Management, August 15, 1983, p. 2.
90. Shafer, op. cit.
91. Weston, op. cit., p. 95.
92. Quoted in Strategic Materials Management, September I, 1983, p. 5.
93. Ibid.
94. Petroleum Economist, August 1984, p. 285.
95. Petroleum News (Exploration Annual, 1984) 14, 10 (January 1984).
96. Planning Commission, Sixth Five Year Plan: Mid Term Appraisal (New
Delhi, 1983).
97. A. K. Malhotra, "India's Offshore Oil Program," India International Cen-
tre Quarterly 10, 3 (September 1983), p. 22.
98. Ibid., p. 24.
99. A spokesman for the Indian Embassy, Washington, provided this estimate.
See also The Statesman, March 29, 1984.
100. Asia Yearbook, 1987 (Hong Kong: Far Eastern Economic Review,
1986), p. 77.
101. See Young, op. cit.; see also Choon-Ho Park, "Offshore Oil Development
in the China Seas: Some Legal and Territorial Issues," in Elizabeth Mann Borgese
and Norton Ginsburg, eds., Ocean Yearbook 2 (Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, 1922), p. 101.
102. Daniel J. Dzurek, "Boundary and Resource Disputes in the South China
Sea," in Elizabeth Mann Borgese and Norton Ginsburg, eds., Ocean Yearbook 5
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985), p. 263.
103. J. P. Anand, "The Law of the Sea: India and the Indian Ocean," IDSA
Journal, July-September 1981, p. 31.
104. The Statesman, August 2, 1984, p. 5.
105. Editorial in Times of India, October 28, 1983, p. 6.
106. Editorial in The Statesman, October 21, 1983, p. 8.
107. Department of Ocean Development, Annual Report of 1983—84 (New
Delhi, 1984), p. 38.
108. Government of India, Department of Ocean Development, Annual Re-

port 1986-87 (New Delhi, 1987), p. 27.
109. Deborah Mackenzie, "Law of the Sea Flounders in Geneva," New Scien-
tist, August 30, 1984, pp. 3-4.
110. Times of India, August 19, 1987.
111. S. Z. Quasim, "A Technological Forecast of Ocean Research and Devel-
opment in India" Impact of Science on Society, No. 3/4 (1983), p. 467.
112. K. C. Lucas and T. Loftas, "FAO's EEZ Program," in Elizabeth Mann
Borgese and Norton Ginsburg, eds., Ocean Yearbook 3 (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1983), p. 55.
113. Yearbook of Fishing Statistics, Food and Agriculture Organization
(Rome), Table A-2, p. 88. B. Ramachandra Rao, "Man and the Ocean: Resources
and Development," Strategic Digest (New Delhi), September 1983, p. 609.
114. DOD, Annual Report 1983-84, p. 53; and Annual Report 1986-87.
115. S. N. Dwivedi and N. P. Dunning, "Progress and Potential of Aquacul-
ture," in Elizabeth Mann Borgese and Norton Ginsburg, eds., Ocean Yearbook 4
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984), pp. 60-74.
116. M. J. Peterson, "Antarctica: The Last Great Land Rush on Earth," Inter-
national Organization 34, 3 (Summer 1980), p. 41.
117. For a comprehensive discussion on Antarctica, see F. M. Auburn, Ant-
arctica: Law and Politics (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1982).
118. Times of India, February 18, 1982.
119. The Hindu, February 20, 1982.
120. Rahmatullah Khan, "India and Antarctica Treaty," Hindustan Times,
p. 9, March 18, 1982; K. J. S. R. Kapoor, "The Antarctica Treaty: India's Refusal
to Sign," Business Standard, p. 7, July 16, 1983; and C. Raja Mohan, "Land Grab
at Antarctica: Need for an Indian Initiative," Indian Express, p. 10, August 2 and
3, 1983.
121. The Hindu, p. 8, February 20, 1982.
122. Barbara Mitchel, "Has Antarctica Split the South?" The Telegraph,
p. 6, September 23, 1983.
123. Economic Declaration of the New Delhi Summit, paras. 122-123.
124. Joel Larus, "India Claims a Role in Antarctica," The Round Table, No.
289 (January 1984), pp. 45-56.
125. Statement of Shivraj Patil at New Delhi on September 17, 1984; see
Times of India, September 18, 1984.
126. Government of India, Ocean Policy Statement, November 7, 1982.
127. Department of Ocean Development, Annual Report 1983-84, pp. 55-56.
128. Department of Ocean Development, Annual Report 1986-87, p. 62.
TABLE 4.1. Main Types of Mineral Resources on the Sea Floor
Type of Materials for Geological Law of the

Deposit Elements Setting Sea Setting
Placer deposits Iron, gold, plati- Coastal and near-shore EEZ
num, tin, dia-
monds, rare
earths, zirconium,
titanium, and
others
Hydrocarbons Petroleum, gas Mainly passive continental Mostly EEZ
margins and back-arc
basins
Hydrothermal Iron, managanese, Fracture zones, spread- Mostly Area
ore deposits copper, zinc, ing centers, back-arc (deep seabed)
lead, silver, and basin (?)
others
Manganese Managanese, iron, Deep sea (14,000 feet) Mostly Area
nodules cobalt, copper,
nickel, titanium,
molybdenum, and
others
Phosphorites Phosphorous, ura- Coastal (locally continua- Mostly EEZ
nium, rare earths, tion of land resources)
and others and near-shore; sub-
marine plateaus
Source: Peter Rothe, "Marine Geology: Mineral Resources of the Sea," Impact of Science on Society,
Nos. 3/4 (1983), p. 360.
TABLE 4.2. U.S. National Ocean Policy-Naval Strategy Matrix
Ocean Use National Ocean Policy Action Related Naval Strategic Activity
Seabed mining Deep-seabed mining; encourage commer- Strategic mineral usage; protection of
cial activity; LOS Treaty miners
Offshore/deep sea, oil Hydrocarbon recovery; new technology; Strategic hydrocarbon usage, protection
and natural gas encourage activity; LOS Treaty of sites
Strategic passage for Interface with LOS Treaty; other Treaty Sea control/power projection/choke
naval forces activity on peaceful uses points
Trade routes Commercial shipping; movement of im- Sea lines of communications; raw ma-
ports/exports, raw materials terials
Fisheries Expanding U.S. deep-sea fishing; source of Protection of operations; some EEZ
protein; industry jobs; new technology patrol exclusion
Scientific research Joint projects, investigation areas; encour- Military application, possible protection
age development of new technology
Environmental Resource control; environmental control; Rules apply to ships; possible police
LOS Treaty interface action
Ocean energy Potential energy source (OTEC* : wave Protection in deep water
current) , new technology
Arctic/Antarctic Possible commercial activity; research; Strategic sites for various new equip-
joint projects; new treaties ment, R&D, transit strategic
Strategic forces Treaty implications; possible havens Critical mission possible haven concept
Post development Trade; processing; artificial islands Forward basing; home ports overhaul;
coastal/deep water) POMUS (pre-positioned overseas
materials in unit sets) sites
Marine technology New commercial application; trade, trans- Military application: security, alliance
fer; LOS Treaty interface implications
* OTEC (Ocean thermal energy conversion) has applications of military value, e.g., providing energy to military installa-
tions at sea. See "Military Applications and Implications of OTEC Systems," in Donald Walsh and Marjorie Cappellari,
eds., Energy and Sea Power: Challenge for the Decade (Oxford: Pergamon, 1981), pp. 125-30.
Source: James Stavridis, "Naval Strategy and National Ocean Policy," Proceedings of U.S. Naval Institute, July 1984, p. 45.
TABLE 4.3. Worldwide Ownership of Crude Oil

Reserves (percentage)
1963 1970 7975 1977 1979 1981

Seven majors 82 61 30 22 25 31
Other private firms 9 33 8 7 20 21
Producer governments 9 6 62 71 55 48
Crude Oil Sales by OPEC Governments and

Private Firms (percentage)
WO 1973 1974 7976 1978 7979
Producers govts.*
Direct sales 5.0 6.7 13.1 15.9 16.5
Commercial sales — 2.9 5.6 11.4 17.6 25.7
Subtotal 1.0 7.9 12.3 24.5 33.5 42.2
Oil companies 99.0 92.1 87.7 75.4 66.5 57.8
* Direct sales are government-to-government supply contracts; commercial sales

are contracts with small private traders, including sales on the spot market.
Source: Michael Renner, "Restructuring the World Energy Industry," MERIP Reports,
No. 120 (January 1984), p. 13.
TABLE 4.4. World: Primary Energy Consumption"
7979 1982 1985 7956

By type
Oil 3125 2815 2810 2881
Coal 1969 2046 2273 2309
Natural gas 1283 1330 1494 1507
Hydroelectric 417 458 511 519
Nuclear 153 221 348 373
World total 6047 6870 7435 7589
By area
N. America 2140 1936 2026 2031
W. Europe 1328 1217 1245 1267
Australasia 86 90 92 100
Japan 370 340 371 372
Total OECD 3924 3583 3734 3770
Rest of free world 907 1032 1118 1150
Total free world 4831 4615 4852 4920
Communist bloc 2113 2220 2583 2669
World total 6947 6870 7435 7589
:
Commercially traded fuels only.
Source: Petroleum Economist, August 1987, p. 291.
TABLE 4.5. World Crude Oil Production (thousand barrels)
OPEC /World Gulf /World

Year World OPEC (%) Gulf* %
1973 21,209,000 11,315,925 53.35 7,524,179 35.47
1979 24,011,000 11,289,223 47.01 7,671,131 31,94
1980 23,059,000 9,838,245 42.66 6,534,309 28.33
1981 21,645,000 8,208,808 37.92 5,499,930 25.40
1982 20,645,000 6,936,656 33.59 4,486,489 21.73
1983 20,441,000 6,202,193 30.34 3,851,481 18.84
1984 20,744,000 5,983,077 28.84 3,619,778 17.44
1985 20,664,000 5,730,639 27.73 3,358,613 16.25
1986 21,863,000 6,691,615 30.6 4,277,440 19.56
* Saudi Arabia, Iran, Kuwait, Iraq, Abu Dhabi, Dubai, Sharjah, and Qatar.
Source: Petroleum Economist, June 1987, p. 252.
TABLE 4.6. U.S., West European Dependence on

Oil Imports from the Persian Gulf
(as percentage of total imports)
1977 1978 1979 1980 1983

U.S. 37.5 34.8 31.8 28.8 11.6
W. Europe 69.4 66.9 61.9 58,9 39.4
Japan 77.4 77.9 76.0 72.9 65.8
Sources: Figures up to 1981 are from World Oil Trade, June 1981,
and figures for 1983 are from Petroleum Economist, July 1984, p. 258.
TABLE 4.7. Gulf Oil Export (million barrels a day)
1979 1980 1982 1983 1984 1985 1986

Saudi Arabia 9.2 9.6 6.3 4.35 4.2 9.2 4.6
Kuwait 2.5 1.6 0.8 1.0 1.1 0.95 1.3
Iran 2.6 1.1 1.8 1.75 1.45 1.5 1.2
Iraq 3.3 2.4 0.8 0.9 0.95 1.2 1.4
UAE 1.8 1.7 1.25 1.15 1.25 1.2 1.4
Quatar 0.5 0.5 0.35 0.3 0.4 0.3 0.35
Gulf total 19.9 16.9 11.30 9.45 9.35 8.05 10.25
Source: Petroleum Economist, July 1987, p. 256.
TABLE 4.8 Value of Gulf Oil Exports (billions of U.S. dollars)
1979 1980 1982 1983 1984 1985 1986

Saudi Arabia 57.5 102.0 78 45 46 27 20
Kuwait 16.7 17.9 9 10 11 9 6
Iran 19.1 13.5 19 20 13 14 5
Iraq 21.3 26.0 10 10 11 12 7
UAE 12.9 19.5 16 13 12 12 7
Quatar 3.6 5.4 4 3 4 3 1
Gulf total 131.1 184.3 136 101 97 77 46
Source: Petroleum Economist, July 1987, p. 256.

TABLE 4.9. Mine Production of Four Strategic Metals, 1950 and 1980 (thousands of tons)
Cobalt Copper Manganese* Nickel

1950 1980 1950 1980 7950 1980 7950 1980
Pro- Pro- Pro- Pro- Pro- Pro- Pro- Pro-
duction % duction % duction % duction % duction % duction % duction % duction %
Developing countries* 6.2 86 21.6 72 1063 42 3464 44 2504 33 7074 26 4 3 256 34
Developed market
economy countries*** 1.0 14 4.5 15 1224 48 2541 33 1164 15 7656 29 114 77 325 44
Socialist countries — — 3.8 13 238 10 1812 23 3954 52 11,967 45 30 20 167 22
Total 7.2 100 29.9 100 2525 100 7817 100 7622 100 26,697 100 148 100 748 100
* The figures for manganese are in actual weight. For others they are of metal content.
** Developing countries include New Caledonia, a French-occupied territory, and Cuba.
*** South Africa is in the developed market economy countries.
Source: Adapted from John E. Tilton, The Impact of Seabed Nodule Mining: A Quantitative Analysis, RR-83-33 (Laxenberg, Austria: IIASA, December 1983).
TABLE 4.10. U.S. Direct Foreign Investment Position Abroad in

Mining and Smelting ($ millions)
1966 1968 1970 1972 1974 1976 1978

All countries 3983 4837 5405 5667 5790 7058 7100
Developed countries 2328 2875 3286 3400 4007 4749 4800
(58%) (59.1%) (61%) (60%) (67%) (67%) (68%)
Canada 1976 2370 2574 2480 2794 3200 —
Europe 19 26 36 46 37 34 —
Japan 0 0 0 0 0 0 —
Australia,
New Zealand and
South Africa 333 479 675 945 1175 1515 —
Developing countries 1655 1962 2119 2267 1784 2309 2300
(42%) (41%) (39%) (40%) (31%) (33%) (32%)
Latin America 1066 1623 1712 1689 1131 1600 —
Africa NA 317 340 406 439 534 —
Middle East NA NA NA 3 3 8 —
Asia Pacific NA 22 67 169 211 167 —
Sources: Amos A. Jordan and Robert A. Kilmarx, "Strategic Mineral Dependence: The Stockpile Di-
lemma," Washington Papers, No. 70 (London: Sage, 1979), p. 30; the figures for 1978 are from Michael
Tanzer, The Race for Resources (London: Heinemann, 1980), p. 202.
TABLE 4.11. Net Import Reliance of the U.S. for Specified Strategic
Metals and Minerals, 1980-82 (as a percent of apparent consumption)
Metal /Material 1980 1981 1982 Major Foreign Sources (1987-81)*

Antimony 48 48 45 Bolivia, Canada, China, Mexico, Chile
Cadmium 55 64 69 Canada, Australia, Mexico, South Korea
Chromium 91 90 88 South Africa, Zimbabwe, Philippines,
Yugoslavia, Brazil, U.S.S.R.
Cobalt 93 92 91 Zaire, Zambia, Belgium, Luxembourg,
Finland
Columbium 100 100 100 Brazil, Canada, Thailand
Manganese 98 98 99 South Africa, Australia, Brazil, Gabon,
France
Mercury 26 44 43 Spain, Japan, Italy, Algeria
Nickel 71 68 75 Canada, Norway, Botswana, Australia
Platinum group metals 88 83 85 South Africa, U.S.S.R., U.K.
Selenium 90 92 90 Canada, Brazil, Thailand, Malaysia
Tantalum** Japan China, U S.S R. U.K
Tungsten 50 50 48 Canada, Bolivia, China, Thailand
* Indian Ocean littoral states are italicized.

** Figures withheld in 1983 by U.S. Bureau of Mines. But 1981 Bureau of Mines figures are
46 percent for 1975-78.
Source: "Mineral commodity summaries 1983," U.S. Bureau of Mines, reproduced in Sea Power 11, 5
(April 15, 1984), p. 186.
TABLE 4.12. Offshore Crude Oil Production in the Indian Ocean

(thousand barrels/day)
1970 1975 7979* 1980 1981 1982 1983

Abu Dhabi 269 462.7 596.8 1322 555.0 443.4 338.5
Divided Zone
— 315.7 395.2 403.0 268.0 158.0 216.0
Dubai 70 249.3 362.7 344.9 359.0 364.0 323.0
Iran 322 481.2 200.0 150.0 350.0 — —
Qatar 172 — 275.7 192.7 167.5 129.2 —
Saudi Arabia 1251 1385.8 2828.0 2958.0 3000.0 2392.0 2100.0**
Sharjah — 38.4 12.1 10.0 10.5 6.9 6.9
India — 81.4 142.1 160.0 257.0 342.3
—
Brunei 146* ** 141.2 189.6 192.2 126.0 121.0 121.6
Indonesia — 246.4 274.7 533.0 561.0 535.7 438.5
Malaysia — 84.5 271.0 280.3 250.0 302.2 383.0
Australia 216 412.5 401.0 323.2 368.1 348.1 341.1
Total 2446 38.17.7 588.2 6851.2 6175.1 5057.5 4610.9
* 1979 figures are from Elizabeth Mann Borgese and Norton Ginsburg, eds., Ocean Yearbook
No. 4 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984), pp. 579-80.
** Estimate.
*** Brunei/Malaysia combined production.
Source: Elizabeth Mann Borgese and Norton Ginsburg, eds., Ocean yearbook No. 5 (Chicago: Univer-
sity of Chicago Press, 1985), pp. 493-94.
TABLE 4.13. Occupied Islands in the South China Sea
Chinese Name Filipino Presently

Standard Name (Piny in) Vietnamese Name Name Claimed By Occupied By
Paracel Islands Xisha Qundao Quan Dao Hoang Sa China, Vietnam Beijing
Pratas Island Dongsha Qundao China Taipei
Spratly Islands Nansha Qundao Quan Dao Truong Sa Kalayaan China, Malaysia, Philippines,
Vietnam
Amboyna Cay Anbo Shazhou Dao An Bang Kalantiyaw China, Malaysia, Philippines, Hanoi
Vietnam
Commodore Reef Siling liao Rizal Reef China, Malaysia, Philippines, Manila
Vietnam
Flat Island Antang Dao Patag China, Philippines, Vietnam Manila
Itu Aba Taiping Dao Dao Thai Binh Ligaw China, Philippines, Vietnam Taipei
Lankiam Cay Yangxin Zhou Panata China, Philippines, Vietnam Manila
Loaita Nanyue Dao Dao Loai Ta Kuta China, Philippines, Vietnam Manila
Namyit Hangxue Dao Dao Nam Ai Bingago China, Philippines, Vietnam Hanoi
Nanshan Mahuan Dao Lawak China, Philippines, Vietnam Manila
Northeast Cay Beizi Jiao Dao Song Tu Dong Parola China, Philippines, Vietnam Manila
Pearson Reef Bisheng Dao Hizon China, Philippines, Vietnam Hanoi
Sand Cay Bailan liao Dao Son Ca China, Philippines, Vietnam Hanoi
Sin Cowe linghong Cao Dao Sin Tonh Rurok China, Philippines, Vietnam Hanoi
Southwest Cay Nanzi Jiao Dao Song Tu Tay Pugad China, Philippines, Vietnam Hanoi
Spratly Island Nanwei Dao Dao Truong Sa Lagos China, Vietnam Hanoi
Swallow Reef Danwan Jiao China, Malaysia, Philippines, Kuala Lumpur
Vietanam
Thitu Zhongye Dao Dao Thi Tu Pagasa China, Philippines, Vietnam Manila
West York Xiyue Dao Dao Ben Lac Likas China, Philippines, Vietnam Manila
Source: Elizabeth Mann Borgese and Norton Ginsburg, eds., Ocean Yearbook 5 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985), p. 260.
TABLE 4.14. Areas Covered

by Nodules in the Three Oceans
(million sq. km)
Prime
Area Covered Areas
Pacific 32 5.20
Atlantic 8 0.85
Indian 15 0.50
Source: S. Z. Qasim, "A Technological
Forecast of Ocean Research and Develop-
ment in India," Impact of Science on So-
ciety, Nos. 3/4 (1983), p. 474.
TABLE 4.15. Metallic Content of the

Nodules in the Three Oceans
(in percentages)
Pacific Indian Atlantic

Manganese 12.27 15.25 15.46
Iron 11.79 13.35 23.01
Nickel 0.846 0.534 0.308
Cobalt 0.290 0.241 0.234
Copper 0.706 0.292 0.141
Source: S. Z. Qasim, "Bonanza from the Sea," Science

Today (Bombay), June 1981, p. 19.
TABLE 4.16. The Pioneer Investors
Ocean Management Incorporated, members: INCO of Can-

ada, AMR of West Germany, SEDCO of the U.S.,
Deep Ocean Mining of Japan.
Kennecott, members: Sohio of the U.S. (owned by BP of
Britain), RTZ of Britain, BP of Britain, Mitsubishi of
Japan.
Ocean Mining Associates, members: U.S. Steel, Union Seas
of Belgium, Sun Ocean Ventures of the U.S., Samin
Ocean of Italy.
Ocean Mineral Company, members: Amoco and Lock-
heed, both of the U.S.; Billiton and BKW, both of
Netherlands.
Afernod, a state-owned French company.
Deep Ocean Minerals Association, a wholly Japanese con-
sortium.
U.S.S.R.: State company.
China: State company.
India: Department of Ocean Development.
Source: "Law of the Sea Goes Down for the Third Time," New Scientist,
September 13, 1984, p. 7.
TABLE 4.17. World Marine Catch by Major Fishing Area
1970 1975** 1980 1981 1982

Atlantic 23.53 25.85 24.99 24.94 24.66
Indian 2.53 3.21 3.55 3.52 3.56
Pacific 34.71 30.42 35.56 37.81 39.31
World Totals* 61.40 59.29 64.70 66.82 68.20
* Exceeds the sum of the figures due to the inclusion of catches not included else-
where.
** 1975 figures are from Elizabeth Mann Borgese and Norton Ginsburg, eds., Ocean
Yearbook No. 4 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984), p. 565.
Source: Elizabeth Mann Borgese and Norton Ginsburg, eds., Ocean Yearbook No. 5 (Chi-
cago: University of Chicago Press, 1985), p. 481.
TABLE 4.18. Fishing Fleets of the Indian Ocean Littoral, 1983
Factory Ships and

Trawlers and Fishing Vessels Carriers
over 500 grt.
grt. no. % grt. no.
Southeast Asia
Australia 37,026 213 0 1,053 3
Burma 4,916 25 0
China 11,143 41 22.6 21,155 15
Indonesia 34,914 168 10.5 1,510 5
Malaysia 1,169 6 0
Singapore 2,913 12 0
Thailand 1,535 6 0
South Asia
Bangladesh 6,152 25 45.1 263 2
India 11,345 72 0
Maldives 1,602 3 62.3
Pakistan 398 2 0
Sri Lanka 2,567 9 27.2
Persian Gulf
Bahrain 653 6 0
Iran 5,395 24 37.8
Iraq 24,711 20 91.6 10,413 2
Qatar 696 5 0
Kuwait 10,708 71 0 788 1
Oman 604 2 0
Saudi Arabia 1,606 7 0
Horn & Red Sea
Egypt 8,728 6 97.4
Ethiopia 218 2 0
Israel 2,010 2 100.0
Somalia 5,188 14 79.0
Yemen 6,533 22 42.6
Southern Africa
Kenya 1,144 5 0
Mozambique 13,198 66 19.4
South Africa 74,286 181 47.7 303 1
Island States
Madagascar 3,216 22 0
Mauritius 3,455 11 33.2
Smaller vessels (less than 100 grt.) are excluded.

Source: Elizabeth Mann Borgese and Norton Ginsburg, eds., Ocean Yearbook No. 5 (Chicago: Univer-
sity of Chicago Press, 1985), pp. 489-90.
5
Arms Limitation in the Indian
Ocean: Retrospect and Prospect
K. SUBRAHMANYAM
All arms control measures adopted to date evoke a degree of cynicism. In

three much-advertised cases—the Antarctic Treaty of 1959, the Outer Space
Treaty of 1963, and the Seabed Treaty of 1971—countries agreed not to do
something that, in any case, they were not thinking of doing at that stage.
The Biological Convention was agreed upon because the great powers knew
that it is not possible to control the spread of biological weapons or to use
them in battlefield conditions. The Non-Proliferation Treaty was intended to
license unlimited proliferation by a few nuclear "haves." The SALT I agree-
ment did not stop proliferation or reduce nuclear weapons stockpiles but
merely formalized certain limits which neither side considered it desirable
to exceed. The Tlatelelco Treaty, denning a Latin American nuclear-free
zone, was stillborn. The Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty was once hailed as an
authentic arms control achievement, but the growing controversy over its
most crucial provisions and continuing efforts to develop a ballistic missile
defense make it clear, in retrospect, that the treaty could be adopted only be-
cause a ballistic missile defense did not appear technologically feasible at the
time.
Against this background, it is clear that the goal of an Indian Ocean Zone
of Peace, often ridiculed as visionary, deserves to be taken no less seriously
than other arms control proposals. However, as I shall seek to show, the
widespread impression that the Zone of Peace proposal is India's baby is
not correct. While supporting the declaration presented to the U.N. General
Assembly on December 16, 1971, India has serious reservations about the
subsequent interpretations of, additions to, distortions of, and overlays to
223
the original resolution. Extra-regional powers have been able to exploit dif-
ferences among the littoral states to subvert the original proposal.
With the exception of the short-lived Indian Ocean arras control negotia-
tions between the United States and the Soviet Union in 1977 and 1978,
the 1971 resolution has had little impact. The militarization of the Indian
Ocean is intensifying, and ever-advancing progress in military technology
makes the prospects for meaningful arms control agreements in the region
increasingly cloudy.
India and the Zone of Peace
The idea of the Indian Ocean as a Zone of Peace came about in the wake of
a reference made to the developing situation in the area by the Prime Minis-
ter of Sri Lanka in the Cairo Non-Aligned Summit in October 1964. The
Cairo summit declaration included the following statement:
The conference considers that the declaration by African states re-
garding the denuclearization of Africa, the aspirations of the Latin Amer-
can countries to denuclearize their continent and the various proposals
pertaining to the denuclearization of areas in Europe and Asia are steps in
the right direction because they assist in consolidating international peace
and security and lessening international tensions.
The conference recommends the establishment of denuclearized zones
covering these and other areas and the oceans of the world, particularly
those which have hitherto been free from nuclear weapons, in accordance
with the desires expressed by the States and peoples concerned (italics
added).
The conference also requests the nuclear powers to respect these de-
nuclearised zones.1
The origin of the concept of the Indian Ocean as a Zone of Peace should
therefore be traced to various measures adopted and under consideration
in pursuit of disarmament in the early 1960s. The Antarctic Treaty of 1959
had prohibited the establishment of military bases and fortifications and
carrying out of military maneuvers and nuclear explosions in the Antarctic
under full international control, including access at all times to the whole
territory. The Soviet Union had submitted proposals to the United Nations
in 1959 for the creation of a nuclear-free zone in Central Europe.2 The U.N.
General Assembly had passed a resolution (1884) (XVIII) in 1963 calling
upon states to refrain from placing in orbit any objects carrying nuclear
weapons or other weapons of mass destruction.3 In 1963, the General As-
sembly, through its resolution 1911 (XVIII), approved the denuclearization
of Latin America.4 All these measures were aimed at excluding certain areas,
ocean surfaces, and outer space from the deployment of nuclear weapons,
which at that time could have been done only by the four nuclear powers.
The Antarctic Treaty covered the Southern Ocean south of 60° south lati-
tude. The Tlatelelco Treaty then under discussion also covered vast areas
Arms Limitation in the Indian Ocean 225
of the Atlantic and the Pacific oceans. The Sri Lanka Prime Minister ap-
pears to have been strongly influenced by the above contemporaneous de-
velopments in making her proposal.
The issue came up again at the Lusaka Non-Aligned Summit in Septem-
ber 1970. The summit urged adoption of a declaration "calling upon all
states to consider and respect the India Ocean as a zone of peace from
which Great Power rivalries and competition, as well as bases conceived in
the context of such rivalries and competition, either army, navy or air force
bases, are excluded. The area should also be free of nuclear weapons."5
One could see a subtle change in the formulation about the Indian Ocean
between 1964 and 1970. While the earlier formulation focused entirely on
the nuclear-free character of the proposed zone, the later formulation broad-
ened the concept and laid more emphasis on great power rivalries and the
elimination of bases. The reasons for the shift in emphasis are not difficult
to discern. By this time the British Indian Ocean Territory had been formed
and a communications facility was under construction in Diego Garcia. The
Soviets had started sending their ships into the Indian Ocean and were build-
ing up the facility at Berbera. The concept of the Zone of Peace appears to
have been derived from the South East Asian Plan for the Zone of Peace,
Freedom and Neutrality then under discussion. Prime Minister Gandhi, in
her speech at the Lusaka Non-Aligned Summit, referred to the possibility of
the military bases of outside powers creating tension and great power rivalry.6
Again the most fervent advocate of the concept at Lusaka was Prime Minis-
ter Sirimavo Bandaranaike of Sri Lanka.
In January 1971, at the Commonwealth summit, Mrs. Bandaranaike cir-
culated a paper stating:
Recent reports point to an increasing naval presence of the Soviet Union
and naval fleets in the Indian Ocean. It would also appear that these fleets
carrying nuclear capability are becoming part of the strategic system of
the world powers. Another disturbing development is the militarization of
the Indian Ocean. The same reports indicate that various islands and land
based facilities are being utilized to facilitate the operation of these fleets.7
The ministerial meeting of the non-aligned countries in New York in

September 1971 agreed that concrete steps should be taken at the 26th Ses-
sion of the General Assembly to implement the decision relating to the Dec-
laration of the Indian Ocean as a Zone of Peace contained in paragraph 8(b)
of Resolution 12 of the Lusaka declaration. The same paragraph of the com-
munique declared: "For the preservation of the peace, stability and security
of South East Asia, the non-aligned countries urged the neutralization of the
area so as to ensure that the region would be free of big power rivalries and
interference and that its peace and security as well as the independence and
territorial integrity of the states in the region would be fully safeguarded and
guaranteed."8 It was also in 1971 that the Seabed Treaty was concluded,
prohibiting the emplacement of nuclear arms or weapons of mass destruction
"on the seabed, the ocean floor and in the subsoil thereof."9
Underlying the proposal for the Indian Ocean Peace Zone were two ma-
jor perceptions. First, reflecting the prolonged Vietnam war, was concern
about great power intervention and a desire to shield the area from such in-
tervention and rivalry. This concern was reflected in the Kuala Lumpur dec-
laration of November 1971, as well as the Peace Zone move in the U.N.
General Assembly in December. The second perception was that following
the Antarctic Treaty, the Non-Proliferation Treaty, the Tlatelelco proposals,
the Outer Space Treaty, the Seabed Treaty, and proposals for denucleariza-
tion of Central Europe, Africa, and the Middle East, it would be logical and
possible to persuade the great powers not to deploy their nuclear weapons
in the Indian Ocean and not to have forces and facilities in that waterspread.
In the speeches of the Sri Lankan Prime Minister and the Sri Lankan
Permanent Representative to the United Nations, H. S. Amerasinghe, who was
piloting the resolution in the U.N. General Assembly at that stage, one finds
two parallel motivating themes underlying their approach: extending the doc-
trine of non-alignment from the littoral of the Indian Ocean into the water-
spread and applying the concept of a nuclear-weapon-free zone to the In-
dian Ocean waterspread—an area where circumstances were favorable to
adopt such a measure. Mrs. Bandaranaike claimed in her address to the U.N.
General Assembly on October 12, 1971, that "the concept of a peace zone
is inherent in the concept of non-alignment."10 Previous approaches to dis-
armament, said Amerasinghe, had proved "totally inadequate, and some of
the measures undertaken under that approach we consider to be blissfully
irrelevant: blissfully because they create a false sense of security and lull the
world into complacency; irrelevant for the reason that they call for the re-
nunciation of what has already become obsolete or unnecessary, or import
limitations or reductions that in no way reduce the arms race."11 At the
same time he emphasized that
if there are regions of the world where the arms race has not yet assumed
menacing proportions and where there is still even a remote possibility of
preventing its intrusion, the countries in that region could best serve the
cause of peace and their own interests by making a concerted effort to
arrest and reverse such developments or forestall them in their region.
There is one area of the world that is both historically conditioned to
adopt such a policy and where actual circumstances are peculiarly favor-
able for the adoption of the policy—that is the Indian Ocean area.12
During this period India was totally preoccupied with the Bangladesh
crisis. The Indian Prime Minister did not attend the Commonwealth con-
ference in January 1971, since she was engaged in the Indian election cam-
paign. The Indian delegation made only a brief intervention in support of
the Sri Lanka delegation during the debate in the General Assembly. India
did not initially join as a co-sponsor of the December 16 resolution.
The declaration was initially criticized by both Western and Eastern bloc
nations. Only in the second half of the 1970s did the Soviet Union start to
support the proposal. One of the two initial lines of criticism was that a
group of states in a certain region could not establish a legal regime for the
high seas in that region. The second line of criticism was that the extra-
regional naval presence in the ocean area was required "in the interests of
not only the security of the nations concerned but also of the states that rely
on the stability created by a political and military balance."13 Subsequently,
in the wake of the oil embargo of, 1973, came the justification that the oil
lanes had to be protected and access to oil fields secured.
Very often, over-simplified and misleading issues are raised in connec-
tion with the Peace Zone issue—whether the advocates of the Peace Zone
recognized that Western nations, and particularly the United States, had
legitimate interests in the Indian Ocean. The answer has to be a resounding
affirmative. All trading nations of the world have legitimate interests in all
oceans of the world. There is no doubt that the Soviet Union has as much
interest in the waters of the Atlantic and Pacific seaboards of the Western
Hemisphere, from which it derives a significant portion of its food imports,
as the United States and Western Nations have in the Indian Ocean, where
the sources of their oil supply lie. That international shipping lanes should
be available for unhindered maritime traffic and that the oil of West Asian
oil fields should be accessible to the international community are not issues
at all. That they are of universal international interest and, consequently,
that there must be international regimes and responsibility for ensuring them
are beyond doubt. What is at issue is the preferred method of achieving these
objectives.
So far the only occasion when the oil supplies were disrupted was when
the nations friendly to the West applied an embargo on Western nations in
1973. On three occasions the shipping lanes have been threatened: once
when the Israeli military action closed the Suez Canal for nearly seven years;
second, when arms supplied by the Western nations during ongoing hostili-
ties have been used to attack tankers in the Persian Gulf; and thirdly, fol-
lowing the Nicaraguan precedent, when mines were dropped in the Red Sea
by an unidentified party. Given these circumstances, it is more logical to ask
the question whether all nations who raise objections to the Indian Ocean
Peace Zone proposals on grounds of sea lane security and access to oil are
really serious about them, or is their intention only to ask the question like
jesting Pilate and not care about the answer.
The Antarctic Treaty calls for a regime on the high seas south of 60°
south latitude which imposes certain restrictions on the deployment of nu-
clear-weapon-armed vessels. This Treaty was negotiated, and the legal regime
established for the high seas, by a handful of countries including the state that
objects to the Indian Ocean Peace Zone proposal as inhibiting nuclear de-
ployments.
The Tlatelelco Treaty provides for a vast Zone of Application—stretching
from a point located 35° north latitude, 75° west longitude directly south-
ward to a point at 30° north latitude, 75° west longitude; from there di-
rectly eastward to a point at 30° north latitude, 50° west longitude; from
there along a loxodromic line to a point at 5° north latitude, 20° west longi-
tude; from there directly southward to a point at 60° south latitude, 20°
west longitude; from there directly westward to a point at 60° south latitude,
115° west longitude; from there directly northward to a point of 0° latitude,
115° west longitude; from there along a loxodromic line to a point at 35°
north latitude, 150° west longitude; and from there directly eastward to a
point at 35° north latitude, 75° west longitude. 14 Perhaps the area of ocean
surface included in this is as big at the Indian Ocean, if not bigger. Under
Protocol II to the Treaty, the nuclear weapon powers should respect the
statute of denuclearization and not introduce or deploy nuclear weapons in
this zone. The United States and Great Britain are signatories to this proto-
col, and at that stage no objection seems to have been raised about a group
of nations in a certain region establishing a legal regime for the high seas of
that region. It is therefore obvious that this objection is not based on any
principle and that the advocates of the Indian Ocean Peace Zone have sound
precedents to go on.
The Seabed Treaty and the Outer Space Treaty are non-armament mea-
sures in which the nations concerned have agreed not to place nuclear weap-
ons in outer space or on the seabed. The objective underlying the Indian
Ocean Peace Zone proposal was to create another ocean, along with the
oceans surrounding Latin America and Antarctica, that would be free of
nuclear weapon deployment at a time when the introduction of nuclear
weapons in the area was at an incipient stage, on the principle of non-arma-
ment measures. It would also appear that at that stage many nations naively
took seriously the declarations of a desire for non-proliferation by the great
powers and felt that an Indian Ocean Peace Zone excluding nuclear weapon
deployment in the waterspread, among other things, would be a contribution
to the objective of non-proliferation. It was a measure to halt the spatial
proliferation of nuclear weapons. It is only in the course of the 1970s that
the over-simplistic and naive signatories of the NPT (the bulk of whom are
also advocates of the Indian Ocean Peace Zone proposal) realized that they
had been persuaded to sign a treaty that violates the basic international norm
that all nations of the world are equally entitled to the same categories of
weapons of offense and defense, and that a group of states cannot establish
a regime in international relations where some nations are entitled to a
category of weapons and others are not.
India had a far more realistic view of the game of "non-proliferation"
and therefore refused to accept a regime conceived by a few nations violating
the basic international norms that all nations are entitled to the same category
of weapons for their defense. Nor was India taken in by the concept of a
"nuclear-weapon-free zone," which legitimized nuclear weapons in the hands
of a few powers. For India, the Indian Ocean Peace Zone proposal was a
test of good faith of those nations that loudly proclaimed their non-prolifera-
tion objectives day in and day out while proliferating nuclear weapons in
absolute numbers, among more formations and platforms and over increas-
ing areas of land and ocean space. India supported the non-proliferation
objective and struggled hard to bring about a real commitment to non-
proliferation on the part of the nuclear weapon powers. When she failed to
achieve this objective, she refused to go along with the Non-proliferation
Treaty. So also in the case of the Indian Ocean Peace Zone proposal, India
supported the cause of halting the spatial proliferation of nuclear weapons
into the Indian Ocean space without any naivete or exaggerated expectations.
India is clearly opposed to all efforts to extend the proposal to cover any
space beyond the oceanspread, or convert it into yet another attempt at
disarming the unarmed—the first being the Non-proliferation Treaty. Here
the Indian national perspectives may not necessarily be in total congruence
with the non-aligned perspective projected in the United Nations and the
non-aligned conferences where the procedure of consensus applies.
Many of the Western criticisms of the non-aligned approach to the Indian
Ocean Peace Zone proposal are valid and justified. The extension of the
Peace Zone proposal from the waterspread to littoral and hinterland coun-
tries lacks realism. The Indian concept of the proposal would not immedi-
ately disrupt alliance arrangements like ANZUS. If the proposal were to be
extended to littoral and hinterland states, it would bring the territories of
Australia and Israel within its purview. It is evident that such an approach
would not constitute a step-by-step approach. It was one thing to ask the
navies of extra-regional powers not to be deployed on the oceanspread on
missions oriented toward the Indian Ocean area and to exclude nuclear
weapons, and quite another to embark upon dismantling the existing alliance
arrangements. The littoral nations that tried to extend the concept of the
Peace Zone from the waterspread to the littoral and the hinterland states
either did not comprehend the full consequences of the proposal or were
doing so to sabotage the original proposal.
Similarly, the idea of the Indian Ocean denuclearization being extended
to the littoral states was a non-starter. Australia, as a member of the ANZUS,
was providing facilities to U.S. nuclear-armed vessels and had extensive facil-
ities for command, control, communication, and intelligence relating to nu-
clear weapons. Israel had been a nuclear weapon power since 1968. The
Indian proposal of restricting the Peace Zone to only the waterspread would
have been implementable in spite of the status of Australia and Israel; but
the overlay on the Peace Zone proposal introduced by Sri Lanka and Pakis-
tan, that it should also extend to denuclearization of all littoral countries,
made it unimplementable in view of the above.
Attempts have been made to prescribe conflict resolution mechanisms in
the Indian Ocean littoral stipulating that the countries of the littoral and
hinterland should also undertake arms control measures concerning their
conventional, especially naval, armaments. Such efforts display an extreme
degree of naivete on the part of the advocates of such proposals. Their prem-
ise is that the new states of Asia and Africa, which have yet to achieve
stability as nation-states, would be able to avoid the whole range of security
problems during the period of their evolution that the European states could
not avoid during three centuries of their evolution. This assumption ignores
the basic fact that out of 120 instances of major inter- and intrastate violence
during the period 1945-1975, only 16 were inter-state wars in the developing
world. Most of the conflicts in the developing world arise out of the very
process of evolution into modern nation-states. With the exception of the
oil-rich countries of West Asia and relatively affluent developing nations, the
bulk of the developing nations have had very modest defense expenditures
not incommensurate with their actual needs. In addition, interventionism by
various great powers adds to the security problems of developing countries.
We are living in an age where great powers have created for themselves
instrumentalities that are meant to give to the governments concerned vis-a-
vis other nations options ranging from sending a protest note to landing the
marines. Many of the littoral countries face problems of insurgency where
very often there is external support to insurgents. The turbulence in one
developing country spills across borders to the neighboring ones. With the
jurisdiction of nation-states extended into the Exclusive Economic Zones
(EEZ) under the Law of the Sea, the need to patrol and exercise control
over those zones has become imperative, which in many cases calls for
reinforcing a nation's naval capabilities. For these reasons, the prescriptions
of conflict resolution mechanisms among the developing nations of the lit-
toral and mutual force reductions at this stage have been far too simplistic.
While such criticisms against the attempts to add on to the Indian Ocean
Peace Zone resolution are justified, the original resolution itself, restricted to
the water surface, did not suffer from any of these infirmities and is therefore
a worthwhile arms control measure. These very often well-meaning but im-
practical additions to the original concept provided adequate opportunities
to the great powers to exploit the differences among the littoral nations and
frustrate the proposal. Subsequently, in the wake of the 1973 oil crisis and
oil price revisions, two developments arising out of them made it even more
difficult to implement the Peace Zone proposal. The oil price hike made many
developing nations of the littoral increasingly dependent on affluent Western
nations for energy aid. Second, the oil-exporting nations of the Gulf, in light
of their affluence, developed an acute sense of insecurity and a security de-
pendence on great powers—especially the United States. Consequently, both
categories of nations initiated a process of diluting the concept of the Indian
Ocean as a Zone of Peace even while not giving it up formally.
Why the 1977-78 Negotiations Failed
The Peace Zone proposal was initiated at a time when detente was making
progress, and perhaps the underlying hope of leaders like Mrs. Bandaranaike
was that her proposal would extend detente to the Indian Ocean. It did not
take very long for the non-aligned leaders to realize that a partial detente,
limited to Europe alone, would not last long, and they did come out with
a warning to this effect in the Algiers summit and in the Colombo summit.15
The progress of detente was a necessary, if not sufficient, condition to realize
the concept of the Indian Ocean as a Zone of Peace. A realist in the non-
aligned world could easily see that as detente started eroding it was not going
to be easy to implement the proposal of the Indian Ocean Peace Zone.
The high point of hope on the Peace Zone concept came when President
Carter made his proposal for the demilitarization of the Indian Ocean in
his news conference of March 9, 1977. Within 10 days, however, he had
diluted his stand, and on March 19, 1977, he talked of hoping to establish
with the Soviets "mutual military restraint in the Indian Ocean." On March
24, 1977, the Soviet President Kosygin responded to this offer during his
tour of Africa, declaring that the Soviet Union was willing to discuss demili-
tarization of the Indian Ocean. On March 29, 1977, during Secretary of
State Cyrus Vance's visit to Moscow, U.S.-Soviet working groups were set
up to consider demilitarization of the Indian Ocean and curbs on arms sales
to developing nations. Paul Warnke, the head of the U.S. Arms Control and
Disarmament Agency, said at the end of his visit to Moscow on June 22-27
that both sides had been quite encouraged on the issue of demilitarization of
the Indian Ocean.
At the second round of talks, in Washington in September 1977, the
Soviets were reported to have proposed a ban on the deployment of ships
and submarines armed with nuclear weapons in the Indian Ocean. According
to a report in the New York Times of November 20, 1977, they appeared to
have accepted a U.S. proposal to prohibit either country from significantly
altering the size or character of its naval force currently in the ocean. On
October 4, 1977, President Carter told the U.N. General Assembly that
neither the United States nor the Soviet Union had a large military presence
there, and that there was no rapidly mounting competition between the two
nations. He added: "Restraint in the area may well begin with a mutual
effort to stabilize our presence and to avoid an escalation in military com-
petition. Then both sides can consider how our military activities in the
Indian Ocean—the whole area—might be even further reduced." The third
round of U.S.-Soviet talks on demilitarization took place in Berne, Switzer-
land, in December 1977. A joint communique was issued describing the talks
as positive.
By February 1978, following the Soviet-aided Ethiopian counter-offensive
against the Somali-backed guerrillas in Ogaden, Secretary of State Vance
indicated that the United States was slowing down efforts to reach an agree-
ment on demilitarizing the Indian Ocean, in retaliation for the Soviet pres-
ence in Ethiopia. On March 1, 1978, the U.S. National Security Adviser,
Zbigniew Brzezinski, said the Soviet actions in Ethiopia could affect negotia-
tions for a SALT agreement. Though he denied that the United States was
deliberately tying the outcome of SALT to the Horn of Africa conflict, he
pointed out that "linkages may be imposed by the unwarranted exploitation
of local conflicts for larger international purposes." The next day, Presi-
dent Carter echoed Brzezinski's views in a news conference. Pravda called
Brzezinski's remark crude blackmail impermissible in international relations.
Vice President Mondale, addressing the U.N. Special Session on Disarmament
on May 24, 1978, charged that in the Indian Ocean,
naval presence there have hampered talks aimed at demilitarizing the area.
On December 15, 1978, in Mexico City, the United States broke off talks
on limiting sales of conventional arms since the United States was not willing
to discuss U.S. arms sales in the Indian Ocean region. In June 1979, Presi-
dent Carter promised the Soviet side that talks on the Indian Ocean would
be resumed in the near future.16 But since SALT II, initialed in lune 1979,
was never ratified, there was no question of a resumption of the Indian Ocean
talks. This is a brief account of publicly known facts on the U.S. initiative
on developing an arms control arrangement in the Indian Ocean area in
1977-78.
There was no doubt that in the U.S. perception, any arms control ar-
rangement in the Indian Ocean was to be related to U.S. global policy vis-a-
vis the Soviet Union and was not to be a local regional arrangement. Brzezin-
ski recalls
the day sometime in 1978 when ... I advocated that we send in a car-
rier task force in reaction to the Soviet deployment of the Cubans in
Ethiopia. At that meeting not only was I opposed by Vance, but Harold
Brown asked why, for what reason, without taking into account that it is a
question that should perplex the Soviets rather than us. The President
backed the others rather than me and we did not react. Subsequently, as
the Soviets became more emboldened, we overreacted, particularly in the
Cuban Soviet brigade fiasco. . . . That derailed SALT. The momentum
of SALT was lost and the final nail in the coffin was the Soviet invasion of
Afghanistan. In brief, underreaction then bred overreaction. That is why
I have used occasionally the phrase "SALT lies buried in the sands of the
Ogaden."17
Underlying the above was Brzezinski's worldview of the Soviet Union and
the developing world. He felt that the Soviet strategic goal of detente was to
deter the United States from responding effectively to the changing political
balance and that the Soviets subtly combined elements of cooperation and
competition, not to preserve the status quo but to transform it. Yet, accord-
ing to Brzezinski:
this Soviet thrust toward global preeminence was less likely to lead to a
Pax Sovietica than to international chaos. The Soviet Union might hope to
displace America from its leading role in the international system but it
was too weak economically and too unappealing politically to itself assume
that position. This was the ultimately self-defeating clement in the Soviet
policy. It could exploit global anarchy but was unlikely to be able to
transform it to its own enduring advantage.18
In this view, a comprehensive and reciprocal detente required making it

unmistakably clear that the Soviet Union must behave "responsibly" on fun-
damental issues of global order. Detente was incompatible with irresponsible
behavior in Angola, the Middle East, and the United Nations (e.g., stimula-
tion of extremist resolutions such as the one equating Zionism with racism).19
This harping on responsible behavior on the part of the Soviet Union
with respect to developments in the Third World was not only Brzezinski's
view. The linkage thesis, based on the same premise, was reiterated by Secre-
tary of State George Shultz in June 1983.20 This is in a sense a continuation
of the bipolar worldview—wherever the United States was not acting in the
Third World, the Soviet Union should be. It never occurred to Dr. Brzezinski
and others who think like him to ask themselves how could Saudi Arabia and
Egypt and other Arab states very close to the United States be stimulated by
the Soviet Union to pass a resolution equating Zionism with racism. This
lack of comprehension of the degree of autonomy of developing nations
naturally leads to a view of the international system as a bipolar zero sum
game. The United States was not prepared to discuss its arms supplies to the
Indian Ocean nations (including deputing tens of thousands of advisers)
with the Soviet Union but felt that Soviet support to Ethiopia in repelling
Somali aggression (made possible partly by the Soviet supply of arms to that
country) was not compatible with the spirit of the negotiations on Indian
Ocean demilitarization.
It would appear that the U.S. intention in engaging the Soviet Union in
the Indian Ocean talks was to freeze the status quo both in the ocean and on
the littoral. Since the status quo was not likely to be frozen—not because of
Soviet intervention, but due to the inevitable changes within the developing
world—the negotiations based on such an unrealistic premise were fore-
doomed to failure.
The Soviet Union's approach to the Indian Ocean is largely influenced by
the threat it perceives to its homeland and its borders from the activities of
the United States. As far back at 1968, Moscow proposed that agreement
may be reached for the cessation of patrols by submarines with nuclear mis-
siles on board in areas where the borders of parties to the agreement are
within range of such missiles. Mentioning this,21 the SIPRI Yearbook 1972
says that it would perhaps be incorrect to draw the conclusion that this im-
plied a proposal for the withdrawal of fleets, but it could imply an offer for
a reciprocal limitation of military activity of the big powers in the oceans.
In June 1971, the Secretary General of the Soviet Communist Party indicated
Soviet preparedness to discuss the presence of the big powers' naval forces
far from their own coasts and to solve this problem by making an equal bar-
gain. He referred specifically to the Mediterranean Sea and the Indian
Ocean.22 A joint Indo-Soviet statement during the visit of the Indian Prime
Minister to Moscow in September 1971 recorded the Soviet readiness to
consider and settle the problem of peace in the Indian Ocean.23 Similarly,
the joint declaration issued in 1973 during Brezhnev's visit to India stressed
the readiness of the two countries to work toward a favorable solution to the
question of making the Indian Ocean a Zone of Peace.24 Soviet Foreign Min-
ister Andrei Gromyko said in the U.N. General Assembly in 1982 that if the
question of foreign military bases in the Indian Ocean was solved, the Soviet
Union was prepared to seek ways to reduce on a reciprocal basis the military
activity of the non-littoral states in the Indian Ocean and the adjacent re-
gions.25 In 1977, in the U.N. General Assembly, the Soviet Union proposed
to the nuclear powers to enter into negotiations to agree on the withdrawal

of ships carrying nuclear weapons from some parts of the world ocean includ-
ing the Indian Ocean.26 The Soviet Union, in contrast to the U.S., supported
the proposal to convene an international conference on the Indian Ocean.
On May 15, 1980, the Warsaw Treaty countries voiced their support of
the proposal to turn the Indian Ocean into a Zone of Peace.27 In December
1980, Brezhnev, during his visit to Delhi, proposed negotiations to assure
the security of tanker traffic in the Persian Gulf.28 This was subsequently
elaborated to include a discussion on the international aspects of the Afghan
problem. At the twenty-sixth meeting of the CPSU Congress in February
1981, the Soviet Union advanced the following proposals:29
not to set up foreign bases in the Persian Gulf region and the adjacent
islands; not to station nuclear or other mass destructive weapons there;
not to use or threaten to use force against the countries in the Persian
Gulf and not to interfere in their domestic affairs;
to respect the non-aligned status chosen by states in the Gulf; not to
involve them in military groupings with the participation of nuclear
powers;
to respect the sovereign right of the states in the region to their natural
resources;
not to create any obstacles or threats to normal trade exchanges or the
use of marine communications linking the states in the region to other
countries.
All this does not mean that the Soviet Union supports the Indian Ocean
Peace Zone proposal as formulated by the littoral nations. The Soviet Union
has frequently expressed its misgivings about freedom of navigation under
the Peace Zone dispensation.30 Second, the Soviet Union strongly resents the
phrase "great power rivalry" used in the Peace Zone declaration.31 Rivalry,
according to the Soviets, is between two colonial powers. The socialist Soviet
Union does not indulge in rivalry with the United States. Their actions in
various littoral countries, such as arms transfers, they argue, help the con-
cerned developing countries to stand up to pressures from the West. They
have also been assisting national liberation movements in Angola, Mozam-
bique, and Rhodesia. In terminological terms, they also maintain that they
do not have "bases" in Dahlak or Aden. They attempt to explain their actions
and policy in terms of ideology.
For most non-aligned nations—including those friendly toward the Soviet
Union—the Soviet actions could be fitted into a framework of national inter-
est defined in conventional terms, and therefore they tend to stick to the term
"rivalry," much to the annoyance of the Soviets. While for reasons men-
tioned earlier, the Soviets would not mind denuclearization of the littoral
states, India does not view the proposal with favor. The Soviets at the same
time would agree to the Indian Ocean waterspread being freed of extra-
regional nuclear-weapon carriers, since that would remove the U.S. threat
from the Indian Ocean, and in this they have a mutuality of interests with
India. The Soviet Union has significantly contributed to the strengthening
of the Indian navy and does not go along with the views of those littoral
nations that press for a freeze on the naval strengths of the littoral nations.
The style of approach of the two superpowers to the Peace Zone pro-
posal is determined not only by their respective perceptions of their interests,
but also by their self-images. The United States considers itself the manager
of the present international order and the current system of international
security. The Soviet Union considers itself as the manager of change, and as
the weaker of the two superpowers it needs to have a united front with the
developing nations wherever possible. The United States does not favor arms
control proposals "not invented here." Hence, it approved of the Antarctic,
Tlatelelco, and Seabed treaties, all of which developed regimes for parts or
whole of the world oceans. In the case of the Indian Ocean Peace Zone pro-
posal, the United States is not willing to forgo the current asymmetric strate-
gic advantages conferred on it by the Indian Ocean providing a strategic
deployment area vis-a-vis the Soviet Union. The asymmetry will be attenu-
ated and there will be greater balance when Soviet aircraft carriers are able
to operate in the ocean space south of the United States and the Soviet Union
gets increased access facilities to ports in Latin America. This situation is not
likely to come about before the mid-1990s.
The Prospects for Indian Ocean Arms Control
This is a retrospective analysis of arms control attempts relating to the Indian

Ocean. Looking ahead, the prospects for progress toward the goal of the In-
dian Ocean Peace Zone do not appear to be bright in the near term.
First and foremost among the examples of growing militarization of the
region is the establishment of the U.S. Central Command with its operational
jurisdiction over 19 nations and its Joint Rapid Deployment Task Force.
Brzezinski has disclosed that the Rapid Deployment Force was initiated by
Presidential Directive 18, signed on August 24, 1977. This was a consequence
of the emphasis given by the more influential section in the U.S. security
establishment to the momentum and character of Soviet military programs,
the vulnerability of the oil-rich Persian Gulf, and the growing Soviet projec-
tion of power in Africa and Asia. In other words, the Rapid Deployment
Force was not a response to Soviet intervention in Afghanistan, but perhaps
was being created in anticipation of Soviet actions. Brzezinski himself agrees
that the Soviets took the RDF and the MX missile seriously.32 In that event,
one wonders whether the permanent stationing of a carrier task force in the
Indian Ocean since January 1979, in the wake of the fall of the Shah of Iran;
the creation of the RDF; the exclusion of the Soviet Union from the Arab-
Israeli settlement; the indefinite postponement of the Indian Ocean and
conventional arms transfer talks; the Brzezinski strategic overtures in China;
and, finally, the Iranian hostage crisis with the expectation of U.S. interven-
tion, all taken together, did not trigger off the panicky Soviet intervention in
Afghanistan.
On the other side, it is also possible to argue that the Soviet switch of
support to Ethiopia, the coup in South Yemen replacing Robbaya Ali, and
the increasing Soviet arms flow into Iraq aroused U.S. alarm about pressure
on Saudi Arabia and the Gulf oil fields. This may in turn be traced to the
overtures of Sadat, the Shah, and the Saudis (all pro-West) in trying to wean
Siad Barre, Robbaya Ali, and Sardar Daud away from their alignment with
the Soviet Union. The likely Soviet reaction to the neocontainment policy of
President Carter was predicted accurately by William Hyland in late 1979.33
So long as the U.S. perception of the international system is that it has
to manage it all by itself, that the Soviet Union is out to exploit global an-
archy in a self-defeating manner, and that the entire developing world is a
mere object of competition between the two superpowers, a realistic arms
control system in the Indian Ocean area will be difficult to achieve. As men-
tioned earlier, the arms control measures achieved so far are of two cate-
gories. The first category consists of non-armament measures undertaken
before arms were introduced into an area. The Antarctic Treaty, the Outer
Space Treaty, the Seabed Treaty, and even the Tlatelelco Treaty, which has
not come into force, belong to this category. The Indian Ocean littoral na-
tions tried to bring in the Peace Zone proposal under this categorization.
Now it is no longer possible to do so, since the introduction of the permanent
U.S. carrier task force in the Indian Ocean, the setting up of the U.S. Central
Command, and the conversion of the Diego Garcia facility into a full-fledged
base. If the United States is to dismantle all these, the Soviet Union has to
match it with similar reductions in arms either in the Indian Ocean area or
somewhere else where the United States has vital interests threatened by
analogous Soviet actions. That is not likely for quite some time to come.
Second, certain new developments involving the southern oceans in global
superpower strategy are also likely to come in the way of an arms control
arrangement restricted only to the Indian Ocean. In the potential use of outer
space for its global strategy, the United States has a vital need for the Indian
Ocean. This is the case with respect to real-time reconnaissance; real-time
navigation; command, control and communications; battlefield management;
and strategic warfare, including the proposed ballistic missile defense. The
U.S. Groundbased Electro-Optical Deep Space Surveillance (GEODSS) sys-
tem will scan the globe with the ability to spot a one-foot-diameter object
from an altitude of 25,000 miles. Of the five GEODSS systems planned by
the United States, one is being established in Diego Garcia.34
Of late, the United States has been developing satellite interception sys-
tems based on the use of a miniature homing vehicle (MHV) fired from a
F-15 aircraft. Soviet reconnaissance satellites are usually at much lower alti-
tudes than U.S. satellites. They also have highly elliptical orbits, with their
perigees over the Southern Hemisphere to permit longer dwell time over the
Northern Hemisphere. Therefore, for maximum effectiveness, the U.S. inter-
ception of Soviet satellites has to take place over the Southern Hemisphere,
when they will be at their lower altitudes. Defense Secretary Weinberger has
stated in his FY 1985 Congressional Budget testimony that "F-15 aircraft,

from which the MHV will be launched, could be based in the southern hemi-
sphere for 'attempted intercepts' of satellites in highly elliptical orbits with
perigees in the South."35 If the militarization of outer space goes forward,
there is a high probability that the United States will use the Indian Ocean
and Diego Garcia for satellite interception. If this hypothesis is correct, then
the chances of an arms control arrangement requiring dismantling of Diego
Garcia facilities are bleak.36
Third, given the massive size of the forces allotted to the U.S. Central
Command in the Indian Ocean, it is reasonable to expect that the Soviets
will develop measures over a period of time to create uncertainties for the
use of such massive forces in areas adjacent to its southern borders, which
have been included in the operational jurisdiction of the Central Command.
This may involve counter-deployment of Soviet carriers (of the type now
under construction) and an increase in the number of Soviet submarines
armed with surface skimmer missiles and cruise missiles in the Indian Ocean
area. In turn, this may necessitate the Soviets securing further infrastructure
support for such deployment beyond Aden and Dahlak.
Yet another complicating factor is the likelihood of the Chinese deploy-
ing their missile submarines in the second-strike mode against the Soviet
Union in the Arabian Sea. This again is likely to lead to increased deploy-
ment of Soviet ASW forces, both in the Indian Ocean and the South China
Sea.
If these developments take place, then there is likely to be a sizeable
Soviet naval power deployment in the Indian Ocean, and Southwest and
South Asia will find themselves trapped between the massive Soviet land
power and a significant Soviet seapower. If the traditionalist perceptions re-
garding the impact of military power and its suasive potency were to be
accepted, one would have to consider what the balance of influence will be
in these regions of Asia under those circumstances, and whether U.S. naval
power and the RDF would balance both Soviet land power and seapower
deployed in the Indian Ocean.
This author does not accept the basic premise of the utility of military
power in various circumstances as envisaged by the advocates of seapower
and intervention. But those who pursue policies based on such perceptions
will have to ponder emerging changes in the regional environment. One is
reminded of the situation in 1972 when SALT I was signed. At that stage
there was a distinct opportunity of banning the MIRVing of the missiles. But
the United States passed that opportunity by because of its confidence that
it would be able to maintain the technological lead vis-a-vis the Soviet Union
in respect to MIRVs for many years. When the latter rapidly caught up with
MIRV technology and started to put multiple warheads on its missiles, there
was a great hue and cry about the throw weight of the Soviet missiles and
the window of vulnerability of the U.S. land-based missiles.37 One wonders,
similarly, whether those who argue today in favor of balancing the Soviet
military superiority on land with a naval presence in the Indian Ocean will
not regret their stand when the Soviet Union begins to deploy aircraft carrier
groups in the Indian Ocean.
It is often said that many of the littoral states, whatever they may say in
public on the Zone of Peace proposal, do want to have a U.S. military
presence—if not an adjacently visible one, at least one over the horizon. This
is no doubt true, as judged by a near total lack of protest from the countries
concerned over the establishment of the Central Command. But the central
question is what is the nature of the threat faced by these countries and
whether the measures adopted by the United States will serve the U.S. na-
tional interests and international interests. Or, alternatively, will they prove
counterproductive, as happened in Iran?
Most U.S. writers as well as the leaders of the littoral states have said
that a direct Soviet invasion is one of the least likely contingencies. Most of
the insecurity arises out of fears about their own neighbors or domestic up-
heavals. In the case of domestic upheaval in a large and populous nation
like Iran, it is evident that the United States cannot intervene without having
to face an unacceptable level of casualties. This was the case even in much
smaller Lebanon. No doubt, there are a number of small countries with very
small populations where intervention against domestic upheaval is possible.
But every time such an intervention takes place, it contributes to the rise of
tension in the area and provides opportunities for the rival superpower to
extend its influence in certain other small countries of the area. Activities in
Oman result in rival activities in South Yemen. Securing influence and facili-
ties in Somalia and Kenya lead to the rival extending its influence in Ethiopia.
It would be useful to do a cost-benefit analysis of the policy of active inter-
ventionism vis-a-vis a policy of mutual restraint.
Similar considerations hold in regard to the sense of insecurity experi-
enced by these developing countries vis-a-vis their neighbors. Wars in the
developing world cannot be fought over a period of time without resupply
operations from the industrialized countries. There are a few developing
countries that can supply certain categories of arms and ammunition, but they
are unlikely to do so if there are sufficient pressures from the major powers.
It is also obvious from the experience of the Iran-Iraq war that when wars
are fought with such extensive reliance on outside sources for material, it is
not possible to have decisions on the battlefront. It only results in episodic
engagements and casualties and the front does not move much.
The Iran-Iraq war has also demonstrated a number of other conclusions
that are yet to have an impact on the political consciousness of the world. It
proved that the sense of nationalism prevailed over religious and ethnic
affinity. This happened when the Iraqis invaded Khuzistan and the Arab
population of Khuzistan did not rise in revolt against the Khomeini regime
and join them. Also, when the Iranians crossed the border in a counter-
offensive, the Shia population of Iraq did not rise against the Baghdad regime.
Second, the war also demonstrated the limitations of powerful armadas of
industrialized nations in securing the safety of maritime traffic. When a coun-

try imposes a blockade or declares a war zone and starts attacking vessels in
that zone it is acting entirely within international law, and it becomes difficult
to intervene without running the risk of having to participate in the hostilities.
In other words, when the sea lanes are seriously threatened, it is not possible
to intervene without extending the hostilities. However, the question does
arise about the credibility of the stand of industrialized nations that talk of
the safety of oil lanes and at the same time supply the missiles and aircraft
to attack the ships.
Third, the fears regarding access to oil and other strategic minerals being
denied appear to be unfounded. Presumably, these fears originate from the
memories of the imperialist era, when a metropolitan power could prevent
the export of vital minerals from the colonies without undue concern for the
interests of the peoples of the colonies. Such denial of access to strategic
minerals is no longer a valid proposition because most of the newly emerged
nations depend upon such exports of oil and other raw materials to maintain
their economies. Any such denial of access to vital minerals will result in
adverse impact on their economies and the employment situation within these
countries. Looking back on the oil crisis of 1973, it is quite obvious that it
only had a demonstration effect and could not have been continued for long.
In any case, today most of the oil producers are hostages to threats of seques-
tration, the precipitous fall in their living standards, and threats of very
serious internal social disruption if they are to resort to any embargo.
In these circumstances, while granting the interests of the United States
and the rest of the industrialized world in access to oil and the security of
sea lanes to and from West Asia, the real issue is what is the best method of
ensuring those interests. The excessive emphasis on military means appears
to overlook the changes that have come about in a world that had had no
historical precedent—totally decolonized, entirely covered by nation-states,
and with a much higher level of political consciousness than ever before.
The military-oriented approach appears to have underlying it the worldview
of the early twentieth century, which is today totally obsolete. The U.S. per-
ception about the developing world and the Soviet Union is distorted in three
ways. First, there is a general trend to interpret the international transactions
as a bipolar zero sum game between the United States and the Soviet Union,
with not enough allowance made for the autonomy of the function and deci-
sion making of developing countries. Second, the degree of integration of the
Soviet Union into the international system and economy has not been appre-
ciated, and the view that the Soviet Union is out to exploit the anarchy in the
international system is an extrapolation of the image of the Stalinist Kremlin,
which talked of the collapse of the capitalist system and the socialist bloc
emerging victorious. Third, while all the time the West talks of the Soviet
Union not having anything to offer to the developing world other than weap-
ons, the emphasis of the West itself has been on military competition with
the Soviets and not in terms of competition in economic and technological
development in the developing world. These are areas in which Moscow is

not in a position to compete, and yet these areas have not been exploited ade-
quately by the West.
Having been decolonized recently, the developing nations are sensitive
about their autonomy in political and economic spheres. Most of them would
like to be self-reliant in respect to their security and development. It is only
the regimes with very narrow bases that would like to depend on extra-
regional powers for their security. With regard to development, most of the
developing countries have reservations in dealing with multinationals and
private capital. After the recent experience of the debt crisis engulfing many
developing countries, there will be greater awareness about the risks of
launching on this path of development. For the countries of the developing
world, the United States has the image of an inheritor of the mantle of the
colonial powers. Hence, the countervailing power of the Soviet Union is
looked upon as a major factor in sustaining the autonomy of the developing
nations. This image is further reinforced by the respective attitudes adopted
by the United States and the Soviet Union toward national liberation move-
ments and apartheid.
There is nothing to substantiate the view that the Kremlin is out to exploit
anarchy in the world. The days when the Soviet Union could claim to be the
center of communism are gone and the history of the last four decades shows
that national interests override ideological affinity. Yugoslavia, North Korea,
China, and Albania highlight the fact that a Marxist government need not
necessarily be a pro-Soviet government. As Dr. Brzezinski himself has said,
Marxism today does not provide an attractive political or economic model
for most of the countries of the world. For the Soviets to attempt to extend
their influence by exploiting the mistakes of the United States is no more
illegitimate than for Washington to do the same vis-a-vis the Soviet Union in
Egypt, Sudan, or Somalia. The country that swears by competition should
be able to understand the view of non-aligned nations that a world managed
by two like-minded superpowers is not in their interest and that a certain
amount of competition between the two superpowers is good for the autono-
mous functioning of the developing nations. Consequently, most of the devel-
oping nations are unable to subscribe to the idea of a world order managed
by one superpower or jointly by two like-minded superpowers. The complaint
about the Soviet Union in the developing world is that it is too much status-
quo oriented and that the competition between the two superpowers is not
based on ideology but on power considerations. Thus, on the Non-Prolifera-
tion Treaty, the two superpowers are in agreement. On the Law of the Sea,
there was not much disagreement between them on many issues during the
negotiating stage. On the North-South dialogue and global economic nego-
tiations, the Soviets stay on the sidelines and controversy is between the
Western industrial nations and the developing nations. So also on issues such
as apartheid, Namibia, and Palestine, where the Soviet Union only supports
the developing nations and is not a main contender. Therefore, the view that
the Soviet Union is out to exploit anarchy in the world does not make sense.
There is a view that the developing nations are pliable client states liable
to be manipulated by either of the two superpowers. But, on the contrary,
the antagonism between the two superpowers and their predictable, mutually
hostile behavior are often manipulated by developing nations for their own
parochial purposes. That Israel calls the shots in the Middle East situation
is the perception of most of the Arab states (including solidly pro-Western
states like Saudi Arabia and Jordan). Siad Barre of Somalia felt that in a
situation in which two superpowers countervailed each other and Ethiopia
lost the support of the United States, the time was opportune to seize Oga-
den. Saddam Hussein of Iraq thought that against the background of the
superpowers countervailing each other and U.S.-Iran hostility, the oppor-
tunity was ripe to settle scores with Iran. South Africa plays a similar game
vis-a-vis its black neighbors. That some of the local states and regimes rely
on extra-regional powers for their security vis-a-vis their neighbors is only
half the truth. The other half is that some of the local powers attempt to
manipulate the predictable cold war behavior pattern of the superpowers to
their advantage. It will not help to nurture the egos of the superpowers'
strategic establishments to face this unpleasant reality. Therefore, the ten-
dency is to cling to obsolete stereotypes.
Let us now analyze the proposition that the littoral nations depend on
extra-regional powers for their security vis-a-vis their neighbors. Of the 43
littoral and hinterland states of the Indian Ocean, 19 have populations over
10 million; 6, between 5 and 10 million; 7, between 1 and 5 million; and
11 have populations of less than a million. Most of these countries have
faced various kinds of security problems—conflicts with neighbors (India,
Pakistan, Afghanistan, Thailand, Malaysia, Idonesia, Iran, Iraq, Jordan,
Egypt, Somalia, Ethiopia, Mozambique, Lesotho, Botswana), insurgencies
(Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia, Burma, Bangladesh, India, Pakistan, Af-
ghanistan, Sri Lanka, Iran, Iraq, Oman, Sudan, Ethiopia, Kenya, Uganda,
Mozambique, Zimbabwe), attempted coups (the Maldives, the Seychelles,
the Comoros, Kenya, Pakistan, Iran, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Sudan,
Somalia), secessionist movements, religious strifes, tribal conflicts, border
claims by neighbors. This is not an unnatural situation. The European and
North American nations went through such conflicts over a period of well
over three centuries when they were evolving into nation-statehood. It re-
sulted in two world wars and there is a semblance of stability today among
them only under the threat of nuclear annihilation. In spite of that, problems
such as Quebec, Northern Ireland, Basque and Croatian secessionism, and
Greek-Turkish conflict persist. It is nobody's contention that these conflicts
would justify the Soviet navy patrolling off the coasts of Quebec, the Irish
Sea, the Gulf of Valencia, and the Adriatic. The developing world is bound
to be turbulent for decades to come, till the developing nations settle down
as stable nation-states. All of them are bound to have a sense of insecurity
during this period. The issue is whether the presence of the navies of extra-
regional powers and their force deployments in the area will help to stabilize
the situation or add to tension, and whether the interventionist use of or
demonstration of force will be in the interest of the powers concerned and

international peace and security. No amount of external naval presences and
force availabilities will stabilize the situations in the developing nations any
more than did their having been colonies for nearly two centuries. The
colonial powers decolonized when they found that it was no longer cost-
effective to continue colonial occupation, mainly because of the rising tide of
political consciousness in the developing world. The same heightened political
consciousness makes the use or demonstration of force by extra-regional
powers in the developing world increasingly dysfunctional.
Much has been written in the West about Admiral Alfred Mahan and the
power of suasion and flexibility of naval power. Mahan wrote about a world
when a major portion of its population did not resist colonial occupation.
That world no longer exists. Today the U.S.S. New Jersey's one-ton shells
have failed to persuade the Druzes in the Lebanese hills to fall in line with
U.S. wishes. The mighty naval presence of U.S. and Allied navies in the
Indian Ocean had no influence on the course of the Iran-Iraq war, nor did
it prevent someone from dropping mines in the Red Sea. One could also ask
whether the nearby presence of the U.S. navy had any influence on the devel-
opments in the Central American states. It is not the contention here that in
all these cases the intervening power applied the full force of which it was
capable, and it is difficult to predict what would have happened if more force
had been applied. But it is no longer possible to argue that naval power can
be readily applied to various situations to influence developments on land.
This is not the simple and straightforward proposition it used to be when
Britannia ruled the waves.
In present-day circumstances it is difficult to envisage a developing coun-
try marching into another and occupying large areas with large populations,
except in exceptional circumstances (as happened in Bangladesh, Uganda,
and Kampuchea, where the invading forces were hailed as liberators and
genocidal tyrant rulers were replaced). In all other cases, keeping a popula-
tion under occupation is very costly—costlier than the invasion itself. There-
fore, in cases of countries with very small areas and populations, the occupa-
tion of foreign territories involving large populations is not a cost-effective
proposition. This was the lesson of Vietnam, Afghanistan, and Lebanon.
Even Israel would not be able to continue its occupation of the West Bank
if it were to bear the costs all by itself.
Therefore, the real and more probable security threats the larger devel-
oping nations face among themselves are not outright invasion and oc-
cupation but mostly border incursion, support to insurgents, or a neighbor
attempting to settle scores on limited objectives. No doubt mini- and micro-
states, of which there are 15 in the Indian Ocean hinterland and littoral, are
vulnerable to occupation a la Grenada. They are Bahrain, Bhutan, Botswana,
the Comoros, Djibouti, Kuwait, Lesotho, the Maldives, Mauritius, Oman,
Qatar, the Seychelles, Singapore, Swaziland, and the United Arab Emirates.
Some of them are vulnerable to a takeover even by a few hundred men, as
was attempted in the Comoros and the Seychelles. The risks they face are not
different from that of 60-65 other mini- and micro-states of the international
system. All these states depend upon the U.N. system and the international
norms for their security, and not on the proximity of some powerful navies.
The thesis that some countries of the region rely on the stability created by
the political and military balance resulting from extra-regional naval power
can be extended to the Western Hemisphere, Africa, and the South Pacific
to justify the naval expansion of certain powers to countervail the current
dominant naval presence of one power.
It is no doubt true that the limitations on the use of military power by
one populous developing nation against another has not been adequately
grasped. Most of the elites in the developing world do believe in the conven-
tional wisdom of the possibility of an unconstrained use of force, including
the naval force, against themselves. If the constraints are highlighted, some
of them fall back upon the argument of hegemonism without explaining how
such hegemonism could be exercised by a developing country. Most of these
fears are due to the mechanical transposition of analogies of exercise of power
by current superpowers and great powers in the colonial era.
However, though it has not been articulated explicitly, an increasing
awareness is gaining currency that many of the problems of insecurity of
the developing nations cannot be adequately tackled through security link-
ages with superpowers. Hence the ambivalence displayed by many of the de-
veloping nations that maintain security linkages with great powers while also
subscribing to the doctrine of non-alignment.
There is bound to be a time lag between the reality of a development on
the ground and the full understanding of its implications by military profes-
sionals, strategic thinkers, and political leaders. This happens to be the case
with respect to the use of force in international relations. Such a lag in un-
derstanding with respect to the colonial situation led to costly colonial wars
like the first and second Indochinese wars, the Algerian war, and wars in
Mozambique, Angola, and Zimbabwe. Similarly, the political and military es-
tablishments of the major powers have yet to realize that in a world of nu-
clear weapons, with two mutually countervailing power centers, the develop-
ing nations have more maneuverability to frustrate the use of force against
them by either of the two superpowers than was possible when Mahan wrote
his thesis. Vietnam, Afghanistan, Central America, and Lebanon exemplify
the application of conventional politico-military thought to a world where
current political realities have made the conventional wisdom wholly irrele-
vant. The task before us today is to bridge this enormous gap between the
realities and the policies pursued on the basis of assumptions wholly out of
date. At the same time, so long as the major powers of the world act on such
obsolete assumptions, the nations who are adversely affected by their policies
have to take countermeasures to influence the perceptions of the intervening
powers and attenuate the impact of their interventionism.
India and the United States have common interests in ensuring the free-
dom of the seas, access to the oil resources of West Asia, and safeguarding
the sea lanes. Indeed, the entire world can be united in pursuit of these ob-
jectives, as in the case of environmental pollution, acid rain, and the warming
of the atmosphere. It is a conflictual approach to international relations that
leads to a perception that access to energy materials or safeguarding of sea
lanes should be the concern of one set of nations to the exclusion of another
set of nations. In turn, this appears to be based on a certain moralistic ap-
proach. The Indian view has been that these matters of common interest are
capable of solution on the basis of the collective approach exemplified during
the enactment of the Law of the Sea Treaty.
Notes
1. Two Decades of Nonalignment (New Delhi: The Ministry of External

Affairs, 1983), p. 23.
2. S1PRI Year Book, 1968/69, World Armaments and Disarmament (Stock-
holm: International Peace Institute), pp. 298-99.
3. Ibid., p. 308.
4. Ibid, pp. 308-309.
5. Two Decades of Nonalignment, p. 56.
6. Review of International Affairs (Belgrade) no. 491 (September 1970),
pp. 21-23.
7. National Herald (Lucknow), January 23, 1971.
8. Two Decades of Nonalignment, p. 65.
9. The United Nations and Disarmament 1970-75 (New York: United Na-
tions, 1976), chapter VI.
10. Quoted in K. P. Misra, Quest for International Order in the Indian Ocean,
(New Delhi: Allied Publishers, Pvt. Ltd. 1977), p. 85.
11. UN Doc A/C 1/PV 1904, November 29, 1972, pp. 4-5.
12. UN Doc A/C 1/PV 1834, November 23, 1971, p. 77.
13. UN Doc A/C 1/PV 1849, December 10, 1971, pp. 16-17.
14. Article 4 of the Treaty for the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons in Latin
America, quoted in S1PRI Year Book, 1969/70, pp. 239-240.
15. Paragraph 16 of the Algiers Declaration, Edmund Ian Osmanczyk, The
Encyclopedia of the United Nations and International Agreements (Philadelphia:
Taylor and Francis, 1985), p. 558. The Colombo Declaration may be found in
Two decades of Nonalignment, section on "Interference and intervention in the
internal affairs of States," p. 427.
16. The entire account is based on "Facts on File" 1977 and 1978.
17. Zbigniew Brzezinski, Power and Principle (New York: Farrar, Straus,
and Giroux, 1983), p. 189.
18. Ibid., p. 148.
19. Ibid., p. 150.
20. Department of State Bulletin, July 1983, p. 66. Secretary Shultz's state-
ment before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee on June 15, 1983.
21. SIPRl Year Book, 1972, p. 554.
22. Ibid., p. 553.
23. I. Redco and N. Shaskolsky, The Indian Ocean: A Sphere of Tensions or
a Zone of Peace (Moscow: Scientific Research Council on Peace and Disarma-
ment, 1983), p. 47.
24. Ibid.
25. Ibid.
26. Ibid, p. 48.
27. Ibid., p. 51.
28. Ibid., p. 61.
29. Ibid, pp. 60-61.
30. UN Doc A/C V/PV 1841, Dec. 1, 1971, p. 47; The United Nations Dis-
armament Year Book, Vol. 4 (New York: United Nations, 1979), p. 304.
31. Redco and Shaskolsky, op. cit, pp. 53-54.
32. Brzezinski, op. cit, p. 515.
33. "The Sino-Soviet Conflict: A Search for New Security Strategies," Stra-
tegic Review, Fall 1979, p. 59. William Hyland wrote:
Surveying the new "quadruple entente," the Soviets could easily perceive that one
of the gaps in the "encirclement" was the area that the British used to call "the
northern tier," the string of Middle Eastern States running from Turkey to Afghan-
istan (more recently termed the "arc of crisis"). The Soviets seem to have made a
strategic decision to exploit this gap. Their moves have included the remarkable
new relationship with Afghanistan, the switch in support from Somalia to Ethiopia
and the related intervention with Cuban troops, the signing of a friendship treaty
with Turkey in June 1978, the Soviet-inspired coup in South Yemen in that same
month, and some probing for an accommodation with Pakistan.
34. Robert C. Aldridge, "Ground-based Surveillance Systems," First Strike
(London: Pluto Press, 1983), pp. 215-216; Defense Electronics, June 1984, p.
45.
35. "Secretary Weinberger on the MHU," Aerospace Daily, July 10, 1984,
p. 5.
36. I am grateful to my colleague Air Commodore Jasjit Singh for the re-
search work on this issue. Please see also editorial commentary in Mainstream,
October 27, p. 1 and November 3, 1984, p. 3 issues.
37. This has been dealt with in Raymond Garthoff's article "SALT I: An
Evaluation," in World Politics, October 1978, pp. 25-32.
6
India, the United States,
and Superpower Rivalry
in the Indian Ocean
SELIG S. HARRISON
In the climax of The Fourth Round, a much-discussed novel in India depict-

ing a new Indo-Pakistan war, Baluch nationalists proclaim an independent re-
public and India comes to their aid by launching a combined land, sea, and
air strike on the Pakistani port of Gwadar, a Baluch stronghold. The United
States, alerted by an intelligence tip from an Indian major general, intervenes
to block what it sees as a Soviet proxy bid for control of the northern reaches
of the Indian Ocean. While 70 Indian ships are still heading across the Ara-
bian Sea, a U.S. marine amphibious brigade is going ashore in Gwadar har-
bor. American supply ships are already shuttling back and forth between the
landing site and the U.S. naval base at Diego Garcia. A U.S. carrier battle
group stationed nearby in the Gulf of Oman arrives just in time to do battle
with the advancing Indian armada. Indian missiles kill or injure nearly 100
American crew members on a U.S. guided-missile destroyer, American A-7
fighter planes retaliate by bombing an Indian corvette, and a U.S. submarine
sinks the ship with Harpoon missiles, killing all 75 hands aboard. The Amer-
ican Embassy in New Delhi is gutted by a mob of some 100,000 people as
Indo-American relations reach a new low.1
To many Americans, this scenario would seem absurdly improbable and
melodramatic, even for fiction, but to most politically conscious Indians the
prospect of some form of American intervention on Pakistan's side in the
event of another conflict is not far-fetched. The nascent Indian tendency to
perceive the United States as a possible military adversary can be partly ex-
plained by the fact that the United States has resumed sales of sophisticated
military equipment to Pakistan in the aftermath of the Soviet occupation of
246
India, U.S., and Superpower Rivalry 247
Afghanistan. Many Indians also recall the historical reality that President
Nixon sent the Enterprise to the Bay of Bengal during the 1971 Indo-Pakistan
war. But Indian apprehensions are magnified by another significant factor:
the marked improvement in American capabilities for intervention in South
Asia that has taken place as a by-product of the growing military confronta-
tion between the United States and the Soviet Union in the Indian Ocean and
its "natural extensions."2
Much of the increase in the superpower military presence in the Indian
Ocean region since 1979 has been related to American and Soviet percep-
tions of security threats in the Persian Gulf and the Red Sea. Significantly,
however, the American forces that would be used in any hypothetical crisis
in the Gulf cannot be based there, given the political divisions within and
between the Gulf states concerning the need for a direct American presence.
The carrier battle groups that figure in Central Command scenarios for U.S.
intervention in Iran must therefore be parked "over the horizon" in the Ara-
bian Sea and the Gulf of Oman, at shifting locations that are generally closer
to Karachi and New Delhi than to Abadan. Similarly, Diego Garcia, where
the Joint Rapid Deployment Task Force bases 17 giant containerized supply
ships for use in the Gulf, is just over 1000 miles from the southern tip of In-
dia and only slightly farther from the western Indian Ocean island states of
the Seychelles, Mauritius, and Madagascar; but it is 2300 miles from the
mouth of the Red Sea and nearly 3000 miles from the most critical Saudi
Arabian oil fields. Indian fears that the U.S. forces in the Arabian Sea could
be used in South Asia are not surprising, since the Central Command has
formally designated Pakistan as one of the 19 countries within its purview.
The Indian reaction to the American buildup in the Indian Ocean is only
one of the more striking manifestations of the powerful political impact of
the superpower military presence evident throughout the region, especially
among the smaller and more vulnerable western Indian Ocean island states.
In addition to aggravating internecine rivalries between regional states (e.g.,
India and Pakistan or Ethiopia and Somalia), the superpower rivalry rein-
forces domestic political conflict within states, between the in-group receiving
military aid and economic subsidies from one of the superpowers and the
out-group seeking to win control. More important, it has generated a perva-
sive regional climate of anxiety. On a tour of six diverse western Indian Ocean
states,3 I found frequently articulated fears of embroilment in an American-
Soviet military conflict, together with a strong desire to escape from the psy-
chological pressures produced by the continuing American and Soviet search
for overt and covert military and intelligence facilities. A study of public
opinion in a variety of other littoral states shows a similar preoccupation with
the danger of an escalating superpower presence.
It is the prospect of an increasingly unstable cycle of challenge and re-
sponse between Washington and Moscow that accounts for the depth of the
anxiety in the region. While the United States has achieved naval superiority
in the Indian Ocean, the Soviet Union has increased its land-based deploy-
ments of ground and air forces in the Transcaucasus and is continuing to en-
hance its capabilities for power projection in Southwest Asia. Soviet recon-
naissance aircraft based in Aden now carry on surveillance missions over the
northern Indian Ocean and the Arabian Sea, and the Pentagon predicts that
Soviet reconnaissance of Diego Garcia by TU-95 BEAR D planes is only a
matter of time. 4 As the Central Command becomes more of a reality, Mos-
cow could well respond by deploying some of its projected Forrestal-class
aircraft carriers and amphibious landing craft in the Indian Ocean region.
Above all, the likelihood of increasing deployments of nuclear weapons in
the region arouses widespread uneasiness.5 Imminent moves by both the
U.S. and Soviet navies to start deploying sea-launched conventional and
nuclear cruise missiles in their Indian Ocean forces have become a focus of
special concern. Yet at the same time, new opportunities for a reduction of
regional tensions are emerging as Soviet forces withdraw from Afghanistan,
the Iran-Iraq war ends, and the superpower arms control dialogue deepens.
Despite the size and diversity of the Indian Ocean region, there is, none-
theless, a striking similarity in public attitudes throughout the area concern-
ing the threat of superpower military escalation, reflected in a growing con-
vergence in official thinking. In place of the goal of a fully demilitarized Zone
of Peace to which all of the littoral states have been nominally committed,
most governments in the region are now pursuing the more modest objective
of stabilization or control of the American-Soviet military rivalry on the basis
of mutual reductions leading to various concepts of a balance. At the same
time, most of them want the Zone of Peace conference to be held soon, in or-
der to push the superpowers to the bargaining table for arms control discus-
sions. Most of the littoral states recognize that the global military rivalry of
the superpowers will require both of them to maintain some degree of military
deployments in the region for the indefinite future, and most of the Indian
Ocean states have aid, trade, and investment links with one or both of the
superpowers that dictate varying degrees of restraint in their opposition to
the superpower military presence. There is a widespread recognition that
some aspects of the military deployments of both superpowers in the re-
gion are not related solely to the American-Soviet rivalry. But the new mood
of realism in the region has not canceled out the Zone of Peace ideal. Rather,
it has produced a desire to implement the Zone of Peace concept by stages in
the form of workable American-Soviet regional arms control agreements.
With memories of the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan still fresh, it
might be assumed that the Indian Ocean states would view the Soviet Union
as the principal disturber of the peace. However, now that the U.S. naval
presence in the region is larger and more visible than the Soviet naval pres-
ence, the United States has also become a prime target for regional anxieties.
The Soviet presence in Afghanistan has been repugnant but distant to most
states of the region. The Joint Rapid Deployment Task Force advertises its
capabilities for intervention in littoral states, while the Soviet Union empha-
sizes its lack of such capabilities, contending that its naval forces arc de-
signed solely to counter American forces.
This study will begin by surveying the political impact of the superpower
military rivalry in the Indian Ocean region, focusing on some of the salient
cases in which pressures for new military and intelligence facilities are dis-
torting domestic political life and intra-regional relationships. I will then ana-
lyze the similarities and differences in the attitudes of regional states toward
the superpower military presence and the Zone of Peace issue. As the largest
littoral state, India will receive special attention. The likelihood that New
Delhi will seek to project its own military power in the western Indian Ocean
during the decades ahead will be assessed in the perspective of Indian rela-
tions with the principal littoral states concerned. Finally, I will examine the
interplay of American, Soviet, and Indian interests in the Indian Ocean as a
pivotal factor likely to govern the larger pattern of superpower relations in
the region. In this context I will discuss several of the more critical political
issues that would have to be addressed by the superpowers in order to facili-
tate the trade-offs required for meaningful regional arms control agreements.
In particular, I will consider the implications of the Soviet force withdrawal
from Afghanistan and the desirability of American-Soviet mutual restraint
agreements in Iran and Pakistan.
The Politics of Bases in the Indian Ocean
Seeking to justify the American military presence, some observers have em-
phasized the fact that superpower military deployments in the Indian Ocean
region are not exclusively a function of the American-Soviet military rivalry
per se.6 For example, Walter K. Andersen points to cases in which Soviet na-
val deployments have reflected political rather than military objectives. He
even goes so far as to argue that the "major reason" for the Soviet naval
presence in the region has been the Soviet desire for political parity with the
United States and for political influence in critical countries where "progres-
sive" elements are seeking to win power or to defend it in the face of Ameri-
can pressures.7 Viewed from the perspective of the littoral states, however, it
is highly artificial to make a distinction between the military and political as-
pects of the superpower rivalry. In countries where Washington and Moscow
want to retain or obtain military or intelligence facilities, they reflexively seek
to create the political conditions that will help them get what they want. Even
in cases where one of the superpowers is not particularly interested in mili-
tary or intelligence facilities, its desire to keep its options open and to deny
such facilities to the other superpower prompts overt and covert efforts to
establish a congenial political environment.
The political impact of the superpower rivalry can be seen vividly in mi-
crocosm in the smallest of the Indian Ocean states, the Republic of the Sey-
chelles. With its strategic location, midway between Mombasa and Diego
Garcia, it attracts unusually intense American and Soviet interest; and with
its fragile polity, it is peculiarly vulnerable to external intrusions into its do-
mestic power struggles.
The population of the Seychelles is only 62,000. Yet it exemplifies in ex-
aggerated degree the problems of political integration and mobilization com-

mon to economically less developed countries caught in the turmoil of rapid
social change. The Seychellois are the descendants of French and British set-
tlers, African slaves, and indentured Indian laborers. Intermarriages have
dulled ethnic distinctions, but a strong undercurrent of color-consciousness
complicates the emergence of a coherent national personality. Anthropolo-
gists and other observers, seeking to explain the indiscipline and the free-
wheeling individualism characteristic of Seychelles society, point to the psy-
chological legacy of colonialism and plantation slavery. At the same time,
they underline the fact that the Seychelles, as an ethnic melange, faces problems
of integration different from those multi-ethnic states with clearly denned so-
cial blocs. The Seychellois are not securely anchored in either African, Asian,
or European roots but have not yet established a unifying composite identity
of their own.8 "Those who are afflicted by this malady of un-belonging,"
wrote Shiva Naipaul after a visit to the Seychelles, "become, to a greater or
lesser degree, unhinged."9
Compared with most other former domains of the Empire, the Seychelles
had acquired little political experience prior to its gaining its independence
from Britain in 1976. The Seychellois elite was unusually small and faction-
ridden, even by Third World standards, and the departing colonial authori-
ties handed over power to a wealthy, British-oriented segment of this elite
that was sharply divorced from the impoverished majority of the Seychelles
populace. James Mancham, the playboy Prime Minister who was deposed in
a 1977 coup by the present President, France Albert Rene, matter-of-factly
acknowledges in his memoirs that Rene enjoyed the greatest support "among
the poorer section, where his seductive rich-versus-poor approach had the
maximum impact," while he himself had the backing of "the better-educated
part of the community and the women." Rene's use of an "emotional class"
approach, he suggested, was simply not cricket.10 Mancham's book, Paradise
Raped: Life, Love and Power in the Seychelles, provides a classic study in
the alienation of elites in economically less developed countries. It is replete
with contemptuous comments about his own society and celebrates unabash-
edly his personal devotion to the use of power as a vehicle for the pursuit of
jet-set night life. Now a British citizen, Mancham boasts that he consistently
opposed independence and bemoans the fact that the British succumbed to
the pressures of the freedom movement led by Rene. To the extent that he
expresses a political philosophy, it is revealed when he refers to the "crowd of
leftists" surrounding U.S. Senator Edward Kennedy.11
Given the ultra-conservative character of the local leadership patronized
by the British, it is not surprising that a polarization of political forces oc-
curred during the decade that preceded independence, that Rene's opposi-
tion movement espoused a Seychelles-style socialism, and that British and
American intelligence agencies, seeing Red, subsidized Mancham and opposed
Rene,12 implanting a deep suspicion in Rene's mind toward London and
Washington that has yet to be erased. Rene is a British-trained lawyer who
studied political science at the London School of Economics. In a two-hour
conversation with him in April 1984, I found him to be an earnest, intellec-

tually acute political leader with a cosmopolitan outlook. He is frankly seek-
ing to establish a centrally planned economy in the Seychelles but does not
fit the crypto-Communist label applied to him by Mancham and often echoed
by Western officials and the Western media. He won power with Tanzanian,
not Communist, help. His People's Progressive Front is not organized like a
Marxist-Leninist party13 and does not question private property rights. It em-
bodies an amalgam of ideas gleaned from the British Labor and French So-
cialist parties and from Catholic social action groups in the United States and
Europe as well as from the Soviet Union, China, and North Korea. Some of
the key figures in his regime are former Catholic priests who preach a purist
brand of socialism reminiscent of that espoused on U.S. campuses in the late
1960s. Brother David Deniscourt, an American priest, supervises the educa-
tional program of the National Youth Service, one of the more controversial
programs initiated by the Rene regime. All Seychelles children are required
to spend two years away from their families in government-run Youth Service
encampments. Critics say that the Youth Service is not only inefficient but
could also become a vehicle for Communist indoctrination. Supporters, point-
ing to the widespread incidence of child labor and prostitution in the Sey-
chelles, argue that it is socially healthy to get children away from their
mercenary mothers. Rene himself defends the Youth Service as a necessary
response to the endemic sense of rootlessness and indiscipline in the Sey-
chelles and as the fastest way to create a body of socially conscious ad-
ministrators.
Rene speaks in much the same language of non-alignment and distributive
justice heard from most political leaders throughout the economically less
developed countries. He describes the Front as an "avant-garde" movement
in which "there is no Marxism but there's a lot of how to live together." "I
have repeated time and time again that I am not a Communist and that we
will never allow any great power from either East or West to install a mili-
tary base on our territory," he declares. "But our problem is our strategic po-
sition. Both superpowers believe that the other will not permit us to be non-
aligned and that we will not be firm enough to remain non-aligned."
The Rene regime continues to permit the United States to use a satellite
tracking and telemetry facility set up in 1967 under an agreement with Brit-
ain. The United States pays $2.75 million in rent in addition to spending
some $4 million annually in "invisibles" to maintain the station and related
facilities for 104 Americans who run it. Since 1982, the United States has
also given the Seychelles modest direct economic aid to cover diesel oil and
other commodity imports. This aid reached $2.3 million in fiscal 1987 and
$3 million in 1988. The Soviet Union, for its part, has provided substantial
military aid, including armored personnel carriers, jeeps, patrol boats, a radar
air defense system, several ground-to-ground rockets, and a small number of
SAM-7 ground-to-air missiles. More important, 15 to 20 Soviet military ad-
visers are attached to the 800-man Seychelles armed forces. Moscow has also
given $4 million worth of fuel oil and cement and has helped to repair ten
diesel oil storage tanks built during World War II by Britain on St. Anne's
Island. Both the U.S. and Soviet navies have access to commercial oil re-
fueling facilities in the Seychelles port of Victoria.
Moscow and Washington alike profess support for Rene and respect for the
non-alignment of the Seychelles. Against the background of pre-independence
British and American support for Mancham, however, Rene has continued to
harbor suspicions that the United States would like to displace him. His sus-
picions were intensified when Mancham supporters, together with South Af-
rican and British mercenaries allegedly recruited by Pretoria, staged an abor-
tive coup in November 1981. According to Rene's advisers, one of the
captured coup leaders, Martin Dolinchek, testified that the CIA, fearful of
a leftist victory in the Mauritian elections, had asked South African intelli-
gence officials to organize the coup. To Western readers, accounts of the
1981 coup and subsequent coup attempts in August 1982 and December
1983 have their comic opera aspects.14 But the Seychelles regime takes a
grimly serious view of what it regards as a persistent danger that the United
States may decide at some point to help support Mancham or another rival to
Rene.
As a key non-aligned diplomat in Victoria observed, "Grenada rein-
forced Rene's psychological dependence on the USSR." Moscow sent two
destroyers to Victoria Harbor during the 1982 coup attempt by army muti-
neers and has informally signaled that it is prepared to intervene in Rene's
defense if this should ever become necessary. Former American Ambassador
David Fischer reaffirmed U.S. support for Rene following a post-Grenada ap-
peal by Mancham for U.S. intervention, and did so once again after an anti-
Rene demonstration in Victoria by supporters of the London-based, pro-
Mancham "Mouvement Pour La Resistance" in 1984. But the atmosphere in
Victoria continues to be one of Byzantine intrigue in which domestic power
struggles within the regime take on a cold war coloration in the eyes of for-
eign observers. Thus, Jacques Houdoul, Development Minister and former
Foreign Minister, and James Michel, Army Chief of Staff and Education
Minister, are often depicted as more convinced Marxists than others in the
ruling party and thus as Soviet favorites, while former Defense Minister
Ogilvy Berlouis has been labeled as pro-American. In reality, such labels
generally distort the nature of rivalries that are primarily local in character.
In the short run, Rene appears to be strong enough to preserve a non-
aligned position. Looking ahead, however, if Rene begins to slip, a continu-
ing escalation of the superpower presence in the Indian Ocean and a growing
search for military and intelligence facilities could well prompt efforts by
Washington or Moscow, or both, to manipulate the internal divisions within
the fragile Seychelles body politic. The desirability of acquiring bases in the
Seychelles to avoid over-dependence on Diego Garcia and to gain more
space and operational flexibility was emphasized by the Chairman of the
House Military Installations Subcommittee during congressional hearings on
the Rapid Deployment Force.15 At present, Moscow acquiesces in the track-
ing station but does not want to see it broadened into a National Security
Agency electronic monitoring facility or an anti-submarine listening post.

The United States would be alarmed if Moscow should get bunkering facili-
ties for the Soviet navy, landing rights for operational military aircraft, in-
telligence facilities, or covert access to oil refueling facilities. For example, in
1984, Western governments were concerned over the Soviet role in repairing
the oil storage tanks on St. Anne's Island. A French military intelligence spe-
cialist told me that the ten tanks on the island collectively could hold up to
60,000 tons of oil and that access to three or four of them could "radically
alter" Soviet naval capabilities in the southern Indian Ocean. However, most
evidence indicates that no Soviet technicians have been on the island since
1986, and the Rene government says that the purpose of the repair program
was to help the Seychelles navy.
A successful effort by the Russians to enlarge their military capabilities in
the southern Indian Ocean by acquiring facilities in the Seychelles could well
lead them to reduce their present efforts to acquire facilities in Madagascar.
The size of the military and economic aid investments needed to pursue So-
viet objectives in the Seychelles is relatively insignificant. By contrast, as its
economic problems have multiplied in recent years, Madagascar has sought
more and more foreign economic aid, and Moscow has been unable to com-
pete with Washington and Paris in helping the Didier Ratsiraka regime. In
military terms, however, Madagascar's port of Diego Suarez, the site of a for-
mer French naval base, is clearly the most desirable locale for a naval instal-
lation in the southern Indian Ocean. Despite categorical statements by Ratsi-
raka that no foreign power will be permitted to establish a base there, Moscow
and Washington are engaged in their present competition for political influence
in Antananarivo primarily because they foresee the possibility of a post-
Ratsiraka political realignment in Madagascar that could lead to a change
in this policy.
When Ratsiraka first came into the limelight as Foreign Minister in 1972,
he initiated military aid and other links with the Soviet bloc that provoked
U.S. efforts to destabilize his regime. In 1971, Madagasar expelled the U.S.
Ambassador, and it was not until 1980 that Ratsiraka agreed to accept a new
U.S. envoy. The rapprochement between Washington and Antananarivo was
negotiated by Ambassador at Large Vernon Walters, who had known Ratsi-
raka when the Malagasy leader was a student in the French military academy
and Walters was military attache in the U.S. Embassy in Paris. The United
States has subsequently accepted the non-aligned bona fides of the Ratsiraka
government and has helped to ease its balance-of-payments problems. Mada-
gascar soft-pedaled its anti-U.S. rhetoric on Puerto Rico and its pro-Soviet
rhetoric on Afghanistan and has permitted U.S. oil companies to explore off
the Madagascar coast. Above all, Ratsiraka has rebuffed continuing Soviet
overtures for access to Diego Suarez and other facilities. However, behind-
the-scenes tensions between the United States and Madagascar persist. Wash-
ington suspects that the substantial Soviet military aid advisory mission is
overstepping its purported role. On a quiet visit to Antananarivo in April
1984, Walters gave Ratsiraka evidence suggesting that the Russians were
using sensitive communications equipment, provided to Madagascar under

the Soviet military aid program, for electronics eavesdropping on U.S. ships
and submarines. Madagascar, for its part, blames the Reagan Administration
for the stringent economic reform demands made by the International Mone-
tary Fund as a condition for foreign exchange help.
Madagascar has begun to acquire increasing amounts of French weap-
onry. The United States also provided $4.5 million in military aid between
1985 and 1987 in addition to $75,000 per year in a military training program
that was still continuing in 1988. However, the Ratsiraka regime remains
overwhelmingly dependent on the Soviet Union for its military equipment,
spare parts, and related technical support. The only fighter aircraft it has are
12 Mig-21s and 4 Mig-17s. Its army and gendarmerie rely exclusively on
Moscow for artillery and armored personnel carriers. Soviet radar systems
provide its air defense. More than 70 Soviet military advisers are attached to
the Malagasy armed forces. Moscow also has 30 economic advisers and a
strong presence in the cultural field. Some 2000 Malagasy students were en-
rolled in Soviet universities in 1984, and 50 Soviet professors were teaching
in Madagascar, mostly in Antananarivo. However, French cultural influence
in Madagascar continues to be much stronger than that of the Soviet Union,
the United States, or other foreign countries. In 1984, France had more than
700 teachers and technical assistance experts scattered throughout the coun-
try, and some 10 percent of these were engaged or married to Malagasy men
and women.
Alarmist scenarios, suggesting the possibility of a Soviet-sponsored coup,
emphasize accumulating economic problems, the weakness of the political in-
frastructure built during Ratsiraka's personalized rule, and Soviet links with
key sectors of the military leadership. For example, Professor Tovananahary
Rabetsitonta of the University of Madagascar, a leader of Monima, a party
critical of Ratsiraka, predicted that the failure of U.S. and IMF support
to solve Madagascar's economic problems will open the way for a Soviet-
instigated military coup or a defeat in the 1989 elections. In this view, even
though Ratsiraka has strong army support, much of the gendarmerie would
like to displace him, blaming him for the 1975 assassination of his popular
predecessor, Colonel Richard Ratsimandrava.
As in many other countries, the IMF's economic liberalization policies,
strongly backed by the United States, have meant higher food and commod-
ity prices for already hard-pressed low-income groups in Madagascar, and it
remains to be seen whether significant increases in productivity will result
from these politically controversial policies. The IMF's free market doctrine
ignores the powerful position occupied in Madagascar by middlemen, who
are predictably holding down prices paid to the farmers for their produce
while jacking up consumer food prices, thus discouraging the increased agri-
cultural productivity envisaged by IMF economists.
As Madagascar's economic problems have burgeoned, Western economic
aid has steadily increased. In 1986, the World Bank's aid consortium pro-
vided $332 million, while International Monetary Fund compensatory aid
and standby credits totalled $46 million. In 1987, International Develop-

ment Association and I.M.F. credits reached $113 million. Bilateral Ameri-
can aid went up from $8 million in 1987 to $27 million in 1988. In addition,
the United States helped to arrange the rescheduling of $170 million in pri-
vate bank debt in 1984. Except for $2 million in food aid, Moscow's help
has been confined to a stretch-out of military aid payments. The extent
of Madagascar's dependence on Washington, Paris, and other Western aid
sources makes speculation concerning a Soviet coup appear far-fetched, at
least with respect to the foreseeable future. Nevertheless, even a brief visit to
Antananarivo underlines the degree to which Madagascar's tenuous political
stability depends on Ratsiraka. Initially unified around him in the early years
of independence, the major Malagasy political parties are increasingly polar-
ized between the Soviet-oriented AKFM and Ratsiraka's military-based Arima
at one extreme and the more conservative Monima and Vong parties at the
other, with the moderate socialist MFM occupying a shifting position in
between.
Both Moscow and Washington, eyeing this polarization, are intensifying
their courtship of Madagascar's political and intellectual leaders. Since both
of the superpowers now support Ratsiraka, the impact of their competition
in Madagascar has not, so far, been destabilizing in the 1980s. American and
Soviet aid has contributed to the stability of the Ratsiraka regime. However,
should internecine conflicts within the military leadership or economic stresses
lead to a sudden political upheaval, there is a danger that the superpower
competition could once again prove to be destabilizing, as it was in the 1970s.
In geopolitical terms, Madagascar and its immediate island neighbors, the
Comoros and Mayotte, derive special importance from their proximity to the
Mozambique Channel, a critical choke point for southbound oil tanker traf-
fic. An average of 12 tankers with more than 200,000 tons of oil pass through
the Channel daily. Mayotte, a French territory whose residents enjoy French
citizenship, has a four-mile-wide lagoon that has long been viewed as a possi-
ble site for a naval base. Paris has been keeping the option of a base open by
resisting periodic demands from the Comoros for the reintegration of Mayotte
with the Comoros. The United States has studied possible base sites in the
Comoros and has found Comoros leaders ready to entertain U.S. proposals
for an American base. The former American Ambassador to Madagascar,
Robert Keating, a Reagan political appointee, who was concurrently accred-
ited to the Comoros, established cordial U.S. relations with Comoros Presi-
dent Ahmed Abdallah. In September 1984, Keating accompanied Abdallah
on a tour of the interior, the first time a foreign ambassador had been invited
to do so. Keating told an audience at Mutsandu, with Abdallah beside him,
that the United States "understood the importance to the free world of the
Indian Ocean and the countries of this region." Keating is identified with the
strategic views advanced by retired U.S. Admiral Robert J. Hanks, who be-
lieves that protection of the Cape Route requires additional air bases in the
Mozambique Channel area to permit more intensive anti-submarine surveil-
lance.16 The United States has not made serious overtures to the Comoros for
a base because to do so would provoke Madagascar, creating an opening for

intensified Soviet efforts to obtain the use of Diego Suarez. However, the Rea-
gan Administration launched a training program for Comoros military offi-
cers with a $50,000 grant in fiscal 1988.
Significantly, since France turned over Diego Suarez, Madagascar has
kept 1500 trained port technicians and laborers on the payroll. Ratsiraka
hopes to develop Diego Suarez as the leading commercial ship repair center
in the southern Indian Ocean, but the presence of readily available special-
ized personnel would also facilitate its reconversion into a military base if
shifting political circumstances should make this appear desirable to a suc-
cessor regime.
In the Seychelles, Madagascar, and the Comoros, where Rene, Ratsiraka,
and Abdallah have ruled with varying degrees of authoritarian control, stable
political systems providing for the orderly transfer of power are not yet firmly
rooted. It is the lack of solidly based political institutions that makes these
countries vulnerable to potential superpower pressures for military bases. By
contrast, non-alignment has relatively secure domestic political foundations in
Mauritius, with a vigorous parliamentary tradition established during the Brit-
ish period and a largely literate, politically sensitized populace.
Mauritius faces formidable economic problems, notably widespread un-
employment and underemployment, heavy foreign indebtedness, and a pre-
carious dependence on preferential European Economic Community sugar
prices and quotas. Its communal and ethnic conflicts could conceivably take
an ugly turn as the assertiveness of newly dominant Hindu populist forces
provokes a growing Moslem and Creole response. Despite some dire prophe-
cies,17 however, the possibility that domestic convulsions could open the way
for a U.S. or Soviet base presence appears less likely in Mauritius than in
other western Indian Ocean states. There are no significant Soviet-oriented
political forces in Mauritius, and Moscow maintains a cautiously low profile.
Soviet relations with Mauritius hit rock bottom in late 1983 when the Soviet
Ambassador, angered by Prime Minister Aneerood Jugnauth's protracted de-
lay in granting an audience, left in a huff, returning after a calculated six-
month absence. The United States openly aided the late Prime Minister
Seewoosagur Ramgoolam in his unsuccessful reelection campaign in 1982,
fearing that Ramgoolam's challenger, Jugnauth, would be overly dependent
on his alliance partner Paul Berenger, who was viewed by Washington as
dangerously anti-American. As it happened, during his brief tenure as Fi-
nance Minister before his rupture with Jugnauth, Berenger made peace with
the IMF and acquired a more moderate image. The United States now recog-
nizes that the prospects for a Soviet-oriented government in Mauritius are
negligible and has established a cordial relationship with the Jugnauth gov-
ernment.
The principal American objective in Mauritius is to soften the Mauritian
demand for the return of Diego Garcia and Mauritian opposition to the
steadily expanding U.S. base presence there. The United States also has a
secondary interest in using Mauritius as a source of food supplies and other
logistical support for Diego Garcia. Some elements in the Pentagon were talk-
ing informally in 1988 of seeking a base in Mauritius in the event that political
changes in the Philippines should force the United States out of the Subic na-
val base or Clark Field. Even if such thinking were to gain adherents in
Washington, however, it is unlikely that the idea of a U.S. base presence
would receive much support in Port Louis. There is a broad base of intellec-
tual and political support for non-alignment as the safest course for Mauri-
tius. Moreover, Port Louis seeks to keep its foreign policy broadly attuned to
that of India, the mother country of its largest ethnic group, and Mauritian
leaders are keenly aware that New Delhi would regard a superpower military
base in Mauritius as a direct challenge to its own ambitions for regional
influence.
The Jugnauth government has adopted a pragmatic approach to relations
with Washington designed to get an increased sugar quota, expanded World
Bank, IMF, and U.S. economic aid, and increased U.S. private investment.
As part of its public relations backup for this posture, Mauritius has offered
to sell food to Diego Garcia and to permit Mauritian laborers to work there.
The rationale for this policy reversal is that Mauritius cannot force the United
States to vacate the base by refusing to provide logistics support and might as
well get what immediate economic advantages it can by cooperating with
Washington, while continuing to push for the return of Diego Garcia to Mau-
ritian sovereignty.
Support for the Mauritian demand for the return of Diego Garcia cuts
across all political groups. Among intellectuals and politically conscious ele-
ments, one hears expressions of concern that the continuing buildup of the
base could involve Mauritius in some form of superpower conflict. As a mass
political issue, the Diego Garcia demand gains added sensitivity from the
feeling that Mauritian "lackeys" of the British colonial rulers sold out the
Mauritian interest during the negotiations leading up to independence. Re-
sponding to popular uneasiness over the secrecy still surrounding many as-
pects of the 1965 agreement under which Mauritius gained its freedom in re-
turn for agreeing to the detachment of the Chagos Archipelago, of which
Diego Garcia is a part, a bipartisan Select Committee of the Legislative As-
sembly conducted a year-long investigation culminating in an exhaustive report
published on June 1, 1983. Signed by former Foreign Minister Anil Gayan,
then a private citizen, the report cited the testimony of the late Governor
General Ramgoolam and others to prove that the British had "blackmailed"
Mauritius by making independence conditional on the excision of Diego Gar-
cia.18 The report points to the 1960 United Nations Declaration on the
Granting of Independence to Colonial Peoples, which stated that the transfer
of power to peoples living in trusts and non-self-governing territories should
be effected "without conditions or reservations." In particular, the report un-
derlined a passage in the U.N. Declaration stating that "any attempt aimed
at the partial or total disruption of the national unity and the territorial in-
tegrity of a country is incompatible with the purposes and principles of the
Charter of the United Nations."19 "Notwithstanding the blackmail element,"
the report declared, "which strongly puts in question the legal validity of the
excision, the Select Committee strongly denounces the flouting by the United
Kingdom government, on these counts, of the Charter of the United Na-
tions."20 The report cites detailed evidence indicating popular anxieties in
1965 over news reports that Britain planned to lease Diego Garcia to the
United States as a military base following its severance from Mauritius. Ridi-
culing testimony from Ramgoolam and others professing ignorance of Brit-
ain's intentions, the report recalled the "psychosis prevalent in the public
mind" prior to the 1965 negotiations and expressed "regret that none of the
parties forming the Mauritian delegation thought it fit to allay the fears of the
population. The Select Committee strongly condemns the passive attitude of
the political class represented ... in the delegation. . . . Their silence, in
the light of repeated warnings from responsible sections of public opinion,
bordered on connivance."21 Apart from the 1983 report, a study of the pro-
ceedings of the Legislative Assembly shows that the Diego Garcia issue has
been a continuing focus of controversy.22
Reflecting on the 1965 negotiations in a conversation in April 1984,
Ramgoolam, then 83, said that the British had told him they would use
Diego Garcia as a communications station. "If I had known that it would
become an American base," he declared, "I would have analyzed the situa-
tion more deeply and would have discussed arrangements to retain our con-
trol over its future. It is not good for Mauritius that it has become a nuclear
base. It is not good for us or our neighbors that a nuclear war could take
place in this vicinity. If the superpowers would leave us alone it would be
much better for us. We would like to see the superpowers agree to freeze
their armaments buildup in this region and then reduce it. Such an agreement,
with mutual concessions, should make clear that Diego Garcia would not be
used as a nuclear base."
Deputy Prime Minister Gaetan Duval has periodically suggested that Mau-
ritius might lease Diego Garcia to the United States—for the right price—if it
reverted to Mauritian sovereignty. Foreign Minister Gayan told me in 1984
that "we wouldn't rule that out if agreeing to lease it would get it back."
However, it is doubtful that the continued use of Diego Garcia as a military
base would be politically digestible in Mauritius for very long in the improb-
able event of a deal with the United States and the British providing for its
return. Harish Boodhoo, then one of the key leaders of Jugnauth's governing
Mauritian Socialist Movement, said flatly in 1984 that "if we get it back we
would not allow any superpower to militarize it. At the present time, we are
helpless, and so we are trying to live with it as a reality even though we
don't like it. But if it were returned to Mauritius, we would not want to be
responsible for a superpower presence there. We would like to see this mad-
man's race in our area end, especially the nuclear race."
At the initiative of Mauritius, the 1983 Non-Aligned Summit in New
Delhi elevated Diego Garcia from an Indian Ocean issue alone to an anti-
colonial issue, attacking the base not only as a threat to the peace but also as
a residual imperialist presence perpetuated in contempt of the littoral states.
Since the NAM summit, however, Jugnauth has made his tactical shift on
Diego Garcia by softening his position on food sales and labor for the base.
India, too, motivated by its own economic objectives in Washington, has
softened its demands for the return of Diego Garcia to Mauritius, placing
the issue in the context of the need for a broader reduction in the presence
of both superpowers in the Indian Ocean.23
Mauritius under Jugnauth articulates the Zone of Peace demand in rela-
tively restrained terms that are similar to those enunciated throughout the
littoral states. When the late Indira Gandhi visited Port Louis in 1982,
Jugnauth urged that India and Mauritius work for a "mutual and balanced"
reduction of the superpower military presence in the Indian Ocean "in the
short term." "We want to be practical," he told me in March, 1984. "We
know that we are powerless. But we hope to persuade the superpowers to
start with a freeze and then negotiate further mutual and balanced reduc-
tions." Diego Garcia, he said, "is a very modern nuclear base which is defi-
nitely a threat to us." The United States, he added, "is responsible for ob-
structing the Zone of Peace conference, which could help us to bring about
negotiations between the superpowers."
In similarly restrained terms, focusing on the need for a superpower dia-
logue, Malaysia has called for the "gradual" removal of foreign military bases
in the region, together with "the prohibition of new bases,"24 and Indonesia
has urged the superpowers to "freeze their military presence with a view to
its reduction and eventual elimination."25 An authoritative Indonesian ana-
lyst, noting that "the American fleet clearly rules the waves of the Indian
Ocean," concluded that a strong U.S. presence was necessary to forestall So-
viet dominance, but that it is now "in the best interests of the Indian Ocean
nations to have an equilibrium between the superpowers. . . . The Ameri-
can-Soviet rivalry must be maintained in reasonable balance at as low a level
as possible."26
President Rene of the Seychelles told me that "while we are very dis-
turbed by Diego Garcia, which is so close to us, we recognize that the Zone
of Peace idea cannot be separated from the broader relationship between the
superpowers. We want to see a resumption of bilateral arms control negotia-
tions." Maxime Ferrari, who served as Foreign Minister of the Seychelles
from 1979 until mid-1984, suggested that representatives of the Indian Ocean
littoral states, perhaps selected by a Zone of Peace conference, should be
present as observers in a resumed American-Soviet dialogue on Indian Ocean
arms control. "We want de-escalation by stages," he said.
Australian Foreign Minister Bill Hayden, announcing a new Indian Ocean
policy on January 17, 1984, emphasized the "goal of the resumption of the
American-Soviet talks on arms limitation in the region." In a major address
on June 20, 1984, he reaffirmed that "we have a particular responsibility to
promote disarmament and reduce superpower tensions in the region," adding
with deliberate ambiguity that "the asymmetry between the military capabili-
ties of the superpowers in the region is intrinsically destablizing." The na-
tional conference of the Australian Labor Party soon thereafter pushed for a
stronger government posture, demanding that "as an immediate goal, Aus-

tralia should urge the USA and the USSR to refrain from establishing new
bases, upgrading their existing facilities or expanding their navies in the
Ocean. We should also urge negotiation between these two powers, and
other powers with a naval presence, aimed at reducing forces to the lowest
possible level."
The most militant position on the implementation of the Zone of Peace
concept is taken by Madagascar, which is seeking to play host to a second
conference after the initial conclave envisaged in Sri Lanka. "The Indian
Ocean Zone of Peace idea means a balance of zero," said Guy Rajaonson,
National Security Adviser to President Ratsiraka. "We will need another con-
ference soon after the first one in Colombo, and the first business of both
conferences will be to get rid of foreign bases."
For the most part, the littoral states want to see a Zone of Peace confer-
ence convened soon, if only to push the superpowers to the bargaining table.
Pakistan and Bangladesh, eyeing Indian nuclear development, have frequently
used the issue of a nuclear-free zone to throw cold water on the idea of a
conference, arguing that a Zone of Peace would be meaningless in the ab-
sence of assurances that the littoral states themselves will not deploy nuclear
weapons. However, this approach is not widely shared. For example, Indo-
nesia has observed that "the security situation within the region will be a ma-
terial factor for the success of the conference, but this should not constitute
a prerequisite or a precondition for convening the conference itself."27 Simi-
larly, Malaysia, while stating that the establishment of a nuclear-free zone
"could facilitate" progress toward a Zone of Peace, did not give this objective
decisive priority.28 Even Sri Lanka, which emphasizes the need for a nuclear-
free zone, has long been pushing for the conference despite U.S. opposition,
partly reflecting its pride as the originator of the idea and as potential host
country. Foreign Ministry officials in Colombo were privately critical of the
United States for opposing the conference. The Soviet occupation of Afghan-
istan could be discussed at the conference, these officials said in 1984, and
most of the 42 potential participants would be critical of the Soviet presence.
As an example of the independent attitude of regional states, Nihal Rodrigo,
Director of the U.N. Division in the Sri Lankan Foreign Ministry, noted that
Madagascar and the Seychelles, both of which receive Soviet military aid,
voted against Moscow on two key 1983 votes in the U.N. Ad Hoc Commit-
tee on the Indian Ocean. Paul Berenger, a leader of the Mauritian Militant
Movement and one of the more vigorous advocates of the Zone of Peace
concept, often depicted as pro-Soviet, said in 1984 that he would have "no
objection" if the United States raised the issue of the Soviet presence in Af-
ghanistan and Kampuchea at a Zone of Peace conference. "We have no spe-
cial love for them," he added. "We are not tilting toward the Soviet Union by
challenging Diego Garcia."
The nominal American posture on the issue in the U.N. Ad Hoc Com-
mittee is that the United States would support the "establishment of a real-
istic zone of peace in the Indian Ocean." What such a redesigned Zone of
Peace concept would entail was spelled out in a proposal presented in May
1982 by Australia, the United States, and seven other committee members.29
Instead of focusing only on the elimination of foreign naval forces and bases
in the Indian Ocean and its littoral states, the proposal argued, the Zone of
Peace concept should deal more comprehensively with a variety of factors
affecting the peace and stability of the region. Among the 26 necessary cri-
teria for a Zone of Peace were support for the nuclear non-proliferation
treaty and for nuclear-free zones in the region as well as "the withdrawal of
foreign occupying forces from the states of the region." Above all, the United
States has emphasized that the concept should embrace hinterland states in
order to take into account "the military occupation of a hinterland state by
a superpower." The Soviet Union wants to retain the definition of the Zone
of Peace specified in the original 1971 U.N. Declaration on the Indian
Ocean, limiting the Zone to its water surface, islands, seabed, airspace, and
coastal military installations. Praising this definition as "quite realistic," Mos-
cow has warned that proposals to broaden the concept "might impede the
achievement of possible agreements . . . playing into the hands of oppo-
nents of the peace zone." However, a Soviet spokesman, acknowledging the
sincerity of those non-aligned states seeking a broader concept, has reaffirmed
"the readiness of the Soviet Union to consider the alternative seriously."30
Since February 1982, the U.S. position in the Ad Hoc Committee has
been that the United States would refuse to participate in a Zone of Peace
conference unless the Soviet Union would first withdraw its forces from Af-
ghanistan. "It would be a serious mistake," said the American delegate on
one occasion, "and indeed a contradiction in terms, to attempt to implement
a Zone of Peace while one of the states defined to be in the region, the hin-
terland state of Afghanistan, continues illegally to be occupied by foreign
military forces."31 The American posture has reflected indifference, at worst,
or insensitivity, at best, to the climate of regional public opinion. As indicated
above, even relatively moderate governments in the region, notably those of
Sri Lanka and Mauritius, have viewed the U.S. attitude as the principal ob-
stacle to the proposed conference. Ironically, the United States acquired an
image of "rigidity," "haughtiness," and obstructionism, as against a Soviet
image of flexibility in the pursuit of peace,32 during the very period when
115,000 Soviet troops were occupying Afghanistan.
Assuming that Soviet forces withdraw by February 1989, as envisaged
in the United Nations settlement concluded in April 1988, the American
image would be further damaged if the United States should continue to op-
pose a conference favored by the majority of littoral states.
India, the Soviet Union, and the United States
In the evolving interplay of American and Soviet interests in the Indian

Ocean, a critical and often underrated factor is likely to be an increasingly
important Indian regional security role. India boldly asserted its readiness to
project power in its immediate neighborhood by intervening in Sri Lanka in

1987. In Pakistan and Bangladesh, as in Sri Lanka, India frankly seeks to
exclude superpower military aid and bases in order to achieve a balance of
power reflecting India's preponderance in population and resources. It is also
generally recognized that New Delhi's regional economic influence is expand-
ing as Indian industrial technology grows more sophisticated. But the emer-
gence of India as a major military power throughout much of the Indian
Ocean has received little attention. In time, New Delhi's naval reach to the
western Indian Ocean island states and to East Africa is likely to grow in
effectiveness, and a divergence of United States and Indian interests in the
Indian Ocean could well develop, especially if Washington continues to pro-
vide sophisticated military equipment to Pakistan.
An examination of the "Big Navy" debate in India reveals that the main
thrust of Indian concern is likely to be westward. The Indian naval presence
at Port Blair in the Andaman Islands is significant in military terms, but it is
most often depicted by Indian writers as a defensive bastion against Chinese
and other pressures from the east rather than as the cutting edge of Indian
geopolitical expansion in Southeast Asia. The Andaman Sea, writes Maharaj
K. Chopra, "may be described as a four power lake," and Indonesia, Burma,
Thailand, and Malaysia, "should they so decide, could debar India from
any presence in its waters."33 It is to the south and west that New Delhi sees
a greater opportunity for the relatively unimpeded development of enhanced
military and political influence. The protection of the Indian-controlled Mini-
coy, Laccadive, and Amindivi islands, off the Karnataka and Kerala coasts,
known collectively as Lakshadweep Territory, is invariably cited as a primary
justification for a buildup of the Western Fleet. Another key Indian objective
in the Indian Ocean relatively close to home is the continued neutralization
of the Maldives as a military base for other powers. When Iran and the Soviet
Union showed interest in obtaining the Gan airfield as a base following the
departure of the British in 1976, New Delhi quickly scotched the idea, per-
suading the Maldives to convert Gan into a tourist resort. Pakistan has since
made a series of overtures to the Moslem-majority populace there, but Mal-
dives leaders have been careful not to offend New Delhi.
Pointing to the significant number of people of Indian origin not only
in the Maldives but also in Mauritius and the Seychelles, P. K. S. Nam-
boodiri writes that "they have strong cultural and emotional bonds with the
subcontinent. They look toward India not only as a source of economic and
technical assistance, but also for their security. The security of these islands
is a legitimate concern for India."34
Mauritius, with a Hindu majority of 52 percent, coordinates its foreign
policy closely with India, and its rare displays of independence, such as its
votes with the U.N. majority against the Soviet presence in Afghanistan, have
come only after informal consultation with New Delhi. India strongly sup-
ported Prime Minister Aneerood Jugnauth and his Hindu populist faction in
consolidating political power in Mauritius during the 1982-84 period, and
the former Indian High Commissioner in Port Louis, Prem Singh, has been
attacked by non-Hindu elements for allegedly playing a proconsul-type role.

The motivation for Indian involvement in Mauritian politics was a conviction
that non-Hindu leaders, notably Paul Berenger, were favoring the Creole
and Moslem ethnic minorities, and that this anti-Hindu posture would pro-
voke ethnic tensions that could ultimately lead to a refugee exodus com-
parable to the flight of Indians from Uganda. But New Delhi also has an
unmistakable long-term sense of identity with Mauritius as a natural outpost
of Indian influence. Business and aid ties have been intensifying, and a re-
tired Indian civil servant serves as Security Advisor to Jugnauth.
Significantly, Mauritian leaders were divided on ethnic lines when I asked
whether India would be able to have naval facilities in Mauritius if it should
ever want them. Harish Boodhoo, whose political base is in the dominant
Hindu community, replied that "as a littoral country, everyone would wish
India to become a power. History has shown that India has no paternal or
hegemonistic attitude." Sir Satcam Boolel, former Deputy Prime Minister in
the MSM government and leader of an anti-Jugnauth Hindu faction, said that
"Indian naval facilities would definitely be accepted by Mauritius, and if they
[other leaders] say otherwise, they are merely being diplomatic." Governor
General Veeraswamy Ringadoo, former Finance Minister in the MSM gov-
ernment, said that India "would no doubt be able to get facilities here if it
wanted them." Jugnauth, the incumbent MSM Prime Minister, was predic-
tably more cautious, observing that "India is going to become bigger and
more powerful in this region, no doubt, it's only a question of time, but it's
hypothetical just now whether they would get special facilities here." By con-
trast, non-Hindu leaders expressed immediate reservations, notably former
Foreign Minister Jean de L'Estrac, a leader of the Mauritian Militant Move-
ment, backed largely by Creole and Moslem interests, who said that it would
be "a difficult decision."
President Rene of the Seychelles spoke of India as "the awkward grand-
father of the region," observing that "India would like to play a big role, but
it has a complex, that people will say they're being imperialistic." While side-
stepping a direct reply to a question about base facilities, Rene said that the
Seychelles would welcome Indian intervention in the event of future coup
attempts against his regime. "India should say, 'we're not going to stand by
and let that sort of nonsense go on.' That would deter the adventurers. The
Soviet Union says it. This is a role that India could play." Indian officials
indicated that Rene had expressed this attitude directly to New Delhi after
the unsuccessful 1981 coup attempt. During her August 1982 visit to Mauri-
tius, the late Prime Minister Indira Gandhi was asked whether New Delhi
would be prepared to intervene in the Seychelles in the event of further
trouble. She replied that "we sympathize with the Seychelles, but we don't
think it would be wise for us to get involved in military intervention." This
prompted an Indian strategic analyst to write that "India's present naval cap-
ability is inadequate to convey help to these islands in case of trouble . . .
but if Indian security planners give enough weight to the stability and security
of the Indian Ocean islands as relevant to our own
found to improve our security interaction with them by providing training,

communication equipment and by exchanging information." 35
In 1984, India gave the Seychelles two helicopters and initiated training
programs for five helicopter pilots and two air force technicians. Indian eco-
nomic aid totaled $2.5 million and was accompanied by another $5 million
in commercial credits for the purchase of Indian goods. An Indian destroyer
visited the Seychelles for the first time in June 1984, setting the stage for
regular ship visits similar to those long established in Mauritius. Madagascar
also had an Indian ship visit in 1984. Guy Rajaonson, President Ratsiraka's
National Security Adviser, said that "we are not disturbed by the prospect
of greater Indian influence. India is a littoral state and will certainly have a
greater military presence in the region, and this issue should not be mixed
up with the issue of the foreign military presence, as some Western countries
like to do in opposing the zone of peace."
Kenya, where there is an Indian community of 70,000 with a strong role
in industry, looks increasingly to India as a source of technology. Kenyan stu-
dents find it cheaper to live and easier to adjust in India than in Britain or the
United States. The Kenyan government views the Indian developmental ex-
perience as more relevant to Kenyan conditions than to Western experience,
especially in the field of small-scale industry. There were 4000 Kenyan stu-
dents in India in 1984, most of them financed by Kenya itself, in addition
to 100 specialized students covered by Indian government scholarships. Kenya
now sends more military trainees to India than to any other country. In 1984,
35 Kenyans were enrolled in three- to six-month officer training courses in
the Indian army, air force, and navy. The Indian navy had two ship visits to
Mombasa in 1981 and one in 1984.
An interesting augury of India's developing thrust toward the western
Indian Ocean is the emergence of an Indian bloc in the politics of the French
territory of La Reunion. At least 150,000 of the Reunion population of some
400,000 is of Indian origin, and the leader of the underground independence
movement on the island, Georges Sinemale, said that the figure exceeds
200,000. Sinemale, whose parents came there in 1848 from Tamilnad as plan-
tation laborers, told me that "France fears the 'Indian peril' because the In-
dians here are the most oppressed economically and are not assimilated cul-
turally." Conversations with French officials on the island in March 1984
revealed suspicions that New Delhi is fomenting Tamil unrest, and in Sep-
tember sub-surface tensions erupted when the Tamil mayor of Sainte-Marie
was arrested on embezzlement charges. "His incarceration," reported a French
journal, "was regarded by a large proportion of the Indian community as an
attempt by the authorities to crush what is the first real Tamil political ex-
perience on the island. The mayor personifies a trend that has been running
through the Indian community for the past few years. More or less explicitly,
he believes that power in La Reunion should one day fall into the hands of
the Indians as it has done in Mauritius."36 French suspicions were reinforced
in early 1984 when India asked France for permission to open a Consulate-
General on the island. Paris responded icily that La Reunion is a part of

metropolitan France.37
Even now, India has significant capabilities for protracted naval opera-
tions in the northern Arabian Sea and the northern Indian Ocean, and its
reach to the western Indian Ocean is gradually expanding. The Indian navy
has 2 British aircraft carriers; 3 Soviet missile destroyers; 9 Soviet subma-
rines; 2 West German submarines; 24 frigates of mixed size and origin, in-
cluding 2 made in India; and 2 maritime reconnaissance aircraft squadrons.
Significantly, it also has 2 replenishment ships, 5 support tankers, and a re-
pair ship, a support capability sufficient to sustain a small task force. Six
more Soviet missile destroyers, 2 Soviet missile cruisers, 4 minesweepers,
and 4 West German submarines are on order. New Delhi has so far stopped
short of a visible power projection capability, such as a naval infantry force.
A leading military spokesman explained that
the question of acquiring the bigger surface vessels like troop landing
ships and amphibious ships should not be immediately taken up because
that would create apprehensions. Our expansion should focus more on
submarines and maritime reconnaissance aircraft and fast patrol vessels
and missile vessels . . . until such time as everybody around us reconciles
himself to the fact that India has 40 submarines, that it is a major naval
power, even though not a visible one; after that, when the idea has sunk
in for a period, then the time will come for the rest.38
The possibility of a nuclear-armed Indian navy cannot be discounted. In

1980, India became the sixth country to launch a satellite on its own, and
in 1983 it staged a second successful test, using a rocket that could be con-
verted into an intermediate-range ballistic missile (IRBM) with a 3,300-mile
range and an 880-pound warhead or, with greater difficulty, a comparable
submarine-launched ballistic missile. Another, more ambitious test was sched-
uled for late 1988. Expert estimates suggest that it will take Indian scientists
another 5-10 years to master some of the technology that would be needed
to make IRBMs, including warhead miniaturization, heat shields for the nose
cone, and gas velocity for thrust. But India already has the indigenous knowl-
edge and skill necessary for inertial guidance systems and solid fuel propul-
sion as well as for anti-ship cruise missiles and other non-ballistic missiles.
The growth of Indian influence during the decades ahead in the Indian
Ocean, including a naval presence supported by base facilities, need not con-
flict with the flexible deployment of a significant American naval presence in
the region. While India is receiving substantial Soviet aid in building its navy,
it does not give preferential treatment to Soviet naval vessels in its ports. In
my view, if the United States were to show greater sensitivity to Indian se-
curity concerns relating to Pakistan, India would be prepared to reciprocate
by giving a correspondingly greater recognition to the legitimacy of the U.S.
naval presence in the Indian Ocean in the context of the global and regional
superpower rivalry.
The climate of Indo-American relations remained troubled in 1988, pri-

marily as a consequence of an American military aid relationship with Pakis-
tan that reflected a myopic U.S. preoccupation with perceived U.S. interests
in the Persian Gulf and Afghanistan. In Indian eyes, Islamabad wants to use
the Afghan crisis as a means of bolstering its power position vis-a-vis New
Delhi, just as it used the cold war for the same purpose when it entered into
its earlier, ill-fated alliance with Washington in the 1950s. Moreover, India
sees the specter of a new American-Pakistani alignment as a part of a larger
challenge embracing China.
To some extent, it was possible for Indians to forgive and forget after
the 1954 American military aid agreement with Pakistan. The United States
was, after all, a newcomer on the Asian scene and had shown goodwill to-
ward India through its economic help. President Eisenhower had given a for-
mal undertaking to Prime Minister Nehru that American weapons were in-
tended solely for use against Communist aggressors, pledging that the United
States would not permit their use against India. When Pakistan did turn its
F-104s and Patton tanks against India in 1965, the United States made good
on its assurances, albeit tardily, by cutting off petroleum and spare parts to
Islamabad and clamping an embargo on arms sales to South Asia.
This time, administration officials do not seek to justify American arms
aid to Islamabad wholly in terms of the threat posed by Soviet forces in Af-
ghanistan. On the contrary, they acknowledge that Pakistan wants American
help primarily to strengthen itself vis-a-vis India, and they have pointedly
declined to give either public or private promises to New Delhi that the
United States would not permit its weaponry to be used in an India-Pakistan
war. In his controversial October 1984 speech to the Council on Security
Studies in Lahore, Deane Hinton, the U.S. Ambassador to Pakistan, did
not rule out American support for Islamabad in a conflict with New Delhi.
"If the contingency you're talking about is from the east," he said, "then
we will not be neutral if there is an act, committed by anybody, of fla-
grant aggression. There's all kinds of things we can and would do. Whether
they would be effective, arrive in time, is a very complex equation."
In the U.S. debate over the F-16 issue, many observers have asked why
India should be afraid of its smaller neighbor, given New Delhi's inherently
superior military potential and its growing defense production base. But fear
of Pakistan does not explain the Indian reaction to the F-16s. Rather, India
is outraged over what it regards as U.S. interference in the evolution of a
natural balance of power in South Asia. Indian generals are confident of
their ability to subdue Pakistan in any protracted conflict and do not believe
that Islamabad would launch an all-out frontal attack. Their concern is that
Pakistan, armed with a highly sophisticated aircraft such as the F-16, might
engage in more limited military provocations, forcing New Delhi to pay an
unacccptably high price to enforce its military superiority.
Pakistan, for its part, has its own ever-present fears of Indian intentions.
These anxieties result not only from its military vulnerability as the smaller
of the two countries, with one-eighth India's population, but also from the
fact that it is a fragile multi-ethnic state torn by growing internal tensions.
India and Pakistan are inescapably enmeshed in a complicated love-hate
relationship. They share many common elements of an overlapping cultural
heritage and a nascent sense of South Asian regional identity that could con-
ceivably draw them closer together in future decades. Viewed in a histori-
cal perspective, however, the process of adjustment between Hindus and
Moslems that began with Partition is still in its early stages. New Delhi and
Islamabad remain trapped in a vicious circle of enmity and distrust that is
likely to continue for some time to come before there is an accommodation—
or another explosion. For the United States, it would be the ultimate folly
to become further caught up in this struggle, especially at a time when both
countries are actively working to develop militarily applicable nuclear capa-
bilities.
Instead of exacerbating Indo-Pakistani tensions and fostering a South
Asian arms race, the United States should have encouraged the impulses for
a concerted response to the Soviet challenge in Afghanistan that were be-
ginning to stir in New Delhi and Islamabad during the latter part of 1980.
It should be remembered that encouraging signs of a mutual desire for im-
proved relations were beginning to surface in New Delhi and Islamabad even
after the United States and Pakistan began to discuss expanded military as-
sistance. Indian Foreign Minister Narasimha Rao made a significant visit to
Pakistan as late as June 1981, in which he suggested that India and Pakistan
should adopt a common posture toward the Soviet challenge in Afghanistan
as part of a broader effort to forge more compatible foreign policies. India
has "an abiding interest, even a vested interest in the stability of Pakistan,"
he declared, given "the geopolitical situation in which both of our countries
find themselves ... we should develop an individual and, if necessary, a
joint capacity to resist a negative impact on us by external trends and exter-
nal elements." Indian Foreign Secretary Ram Sathe also visited Islamabad
during the spring of 1981 and was scheduled to make another visit until it
became clear that the United States would be providing Pakistan with F-16s
as part of its military aid package. India was reconciled in early 1981 to the
prospect of U.S. military assistance to Pakistan addressed to the military
problems posed for Pakistan by the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan. For
example, though New Delhi would no doubt have made pro forma protests,
Indian public opinion would have been able to digest American sales to
Pakistan of F-20 (F-5G) interceptors, light tanks, anti-aircraft helicopters,
and 105- and 120-millimeter howitzers, which would have a specific rele-
vance to the mountainous Afghan frontier, as distinct from equipment in-
tended primarily to improve Pakistan's balance of power with India, such as
F-16s, M48 tanks, 155-millimeter howitzers, TOW missiles, tank recovery
vehicles, and Huey Cobra assault helicopters designed for use against tanks.
It was not the fact of a renewal of a U.S. military aid program for Pakis-
tan, as such, but rather the character of the package that produced such a
sharp impact in India, providing ammunition for the hawks in New Delhi
and setting in motion a chain reaction of suspicion and recrimination that
has not yet fully abated.
While India and Pakistan are cautiously probing once again to find the
bases for a relaxation of tensions, progress in the Indo-Pakistan dialogue has
so far been extremely limited. Neither India nor Pakistan has shown a readi-
ness for significant compromise on the key issues relating to a projected
friendship treaty or "no war" pact, or to the creation of a military subcom-
mission that could consider proposals for disengagement in sensitive fron-
tier areas where the armed forces of the two countries now confront each
other. The relationship between India and Pakistan is still a volatile one,
peculiarly sensitive to the slightest shifts in the American posture toward the
subcontinent.
When the F-16 decision was announced in 1981, a long-simmering de-
bate in India over whether and when to allocate scarce foreign exchange
reserves to a new generation of fighter aircraft was soon resolved in favor
of spending some $650 million on 40 Mirage 2000s. Similarly, the hawks in
New Delhi were given a new lease on life when, in December 1982, just
one month after President Zia Ul-Haq's visit to New Delhi, Zia induced
President Reagan to upgrade the offensive capability of the F-16s by pro-
viding the ALR-69 radar system. Since then, demands have persisted for
new Indian military procurement in the Soviet Union and elsewhere that
would "put Pakistan in its place," and prospects for constructive evolution
of the dialogue with Islamabad have become more tenuous than ever.
American policy toward South Asia should be based on a recognition
that American and Pakistani interests are overlapping but not identical. The
two countries have shared important interests during the period of the Soviet
military occupation of Afghanistan and will continue to have a significant but
reduced mutuality of interests so long as a Soviet client regime remains in
Kabul. However, their interests diverge with respect to India. This means
that future U.S. military assistance to Pakistan should be highly selective.
If the Communist regime in Kabul survives, American aid should be de-
signed to make a contribution to Pakistan's Afghan-focused defenses while
avoiding items that would serve primarily to bolster Islamabad's military
capability vis-a-vis New Delhi. Thus, the United States could provide large-
scale concessional credits and grants for the construction of a sophisticated
radar defense system covering the long Pakistan-Afghan frontier, as well as
for a variety of infrastructural and other economic needs related directly or
indirectly to the defense of border areas of the Northwest Frontier Province
and Baluchistan (e.g., roads and airfields). Some infrastructure aid has al-
ready been planned but has been obstructed or delayed by competing outlays
for F-16s and other costly hardware items. The United States could also sell
certain items of weaponry, such as helicopters, mountain artillery, light tanks,
and 105- or 120-millimeter howitzers. But it would not continue the sale of
F-16s or other attack aircraft. American interests would be best served by
encouraging Pakistan to deal with its India-related military needs, aircraft
included, through commercial purchases from France, Sweden, Britain, and

other Western suppliers.
The United States should also redefine its commitments to Pakistan under
its 1959 mutual security agreement with Islamabad. This agreement, invok-
ing the 1957 Eisenhower Doctrine, requires Washington to "take such appro-
priate action, including the use of armed forces, as may be mutually agreed
upon" in the event of armed aggression against Pakistan by "any country
controlled by international Communism." Pakistan contends that India and
the Soviet Union are undeclared military allies. Islamabad argues that the
1959 agreement covers contingencies on the India-Pakistan border and that
Pakistani forces can properly use their American weaponry on both frontiers.
Previous U.S. administrations rejected this interpretation, but, as noted ear-
lier, the Reagan Administration has pursued a policy of calculated ambiguity.
The agreement as revised would relate solely to aggression by Soviet or
Afghan communist forces. It would permit American support for Pakistan
in such contingencies in the event of concurrent Indo-Pakistani hostilities.
In a conflict limited to Indian and Pakistani forces alone, however, Washing-
ton would have no obligations to Islamabad.
Administration officials often explain their tilt toward Pakistan by argu-
ing that India, with its extensive military reliance on Moscow, has already
become a virtual Soviet ally and that the United States has nothing more to
lose. But this is a dangerous over-simplification. India turned to the Soviets
for arms in the 1960s only after the United States had started its military aid
to Pakistan and only after New Delhi had made an unsuccessful bid for
large-scale U.S. military aid. Moreover, New Delhi has consistently attempted
to offset its dependence on Moscow. As one example, key components of the
Indian-style Mig-21 aircraft made in India under a Soviet license are im-
ported from the West. In recent years, New Delhi has been gradually increas-
ing military procurement in Western Europe. More important, India has re-
buffed Soviet efforts to obtain special military facilities in Indian ports.
India's non-aligned foreign policy is, by its nature, flexible in the pursuit
of national self-interest. It is not designed to achieve equidistance between
the superpowers, but rather to make use of the superpowers in order to
promote Indian interests, even if this means temporarily leaning in one direc-
tion or the other. For more than three decades, the Soviet Union has identi-
fied itself with Indian regional aspirations, while the United States has gener-
ally sided with Pakistan and China. India has adapted to this situation by
frequently tilting toward the Soviet Union. Conversely, if the United States
were to give greater recognition to Indian regional primacy, New Delhi would
gradually modify its posture during the decades ahead, though it would take
time for Washington to undo the mistakes of past decades.
So far, New Delhi has carefully stopped short of de facto military col-
laboration with Moscow, but it would be unwise to assume that such restraint
will continue to govern Indian policy regardless of the nature of U.S. policies
toward Pakistan. As observed earlier, many politically conscious Indians
were willing to forgive, though hardly to forget, American military aid to
Pakistan in the 1950s as the product of U.S. inexperience on the world stage.
However, coming as it does after the 1965 and 1971 Indo-Pakistan wars, in
which Pakistan used its U.S. weaponry against India, the Reagan Administra-
tion's resumption of military aid to Islamabad is viewed more darkly. At
best, it is regarded as evidence of a growing divergence of geopolitical and
strategic interests between Washington and New Delhi; at worst, it is seen
as revealing deliberate malevolence. An atmosphere of xenophobic resent-
ment is now building up among many key military and political figures who
could have a major voice in shaping New Delhi's regional military role in
the decades ahead. Given continuing provocations in the form of multiplying
American weapons aid to Islamabad, this atmosphere could lead over time
to a variety of punitive, anti-American moves in the Indian Ocean designed
to limit the American military presence or to constrain and harass American
forces in their use of existing facilities, including Diego Garcia. So far, Indian
diplomatic and political support for Mauritius in its claim to Diego Garcia
has been pro forma, but New Delhi could easily convert this issue into a
growing embarrassment for the United States.
Situated closer to India than to any other country, the U.S. naval base
complex on Diego Garcia is a constant affront to Indian regional ambitions.
The fact that it was built on a British colonial territory over the protests of
most Indian Ocean littoral states is likely to make it a continuing target of
regional criticism. If the United States had a detached posture toward the
Indo-Pakistani military rivalry, however, Diego Garcia would no longer
impinge directly on Indian security concerns. New Delhi should then be
prepared to make a tacit, pragmatic accommodation with U.S. use of the
base for purposes relating to U.S. global military communications and to the
deployment of U.S. forces in the Persian Gulf and Southwest Asia, except for
contingencies involving India and Pakistan alone.39
Even if the United States were to taper off its military sales to Islamabad,
New Delhi would no doubt continue to make significant military purchases
from the Soviet Union. But this would not, in itself, be adverse to American
interests in the context of a detached American posture toward the subcon-
tinent in which a compatible Indo-American relationship would be develop-
ing side by side with continuing Indo-Soviet links. What makes the growing
Indo-Soviet military relationship worrisome is not the resulting degree of
Indian dependence on Moscow. As already observed, India has retained its
freedom of action, offsetting its Soviet dependence with increasing arms pur-
chases from Western countries. Close Indo-Soviet ties would become menac-
ing to the United States only if Washington continued to array itself against
Indian regional ambitions, prompting an Indian desire to retaliate in its own
perceived interests.
The Reagan Administration has attempted to improve U.S. relations with
India and to reduce Indian dependence on the Soviet Union by liberalizing
exports of computers, electronic equipment, and other dual-use high technol-
ogy with defense applications. In 1987, licenses were issued for potential
exports totaling $1.143 billion. But high-technology alone is not likely to
bring major geopolitical payoffs in India unless the United States ends the
pro-Pakistan tilt in its military aid policy.
Western images of Indian life have been dominated for so long by snake
charmers, naked fakirs, and starving peasants that it is difficult for many
Americans to grasp the extent of progress achieved by India since indepen-
dence. Despite continuing poverty in the countryside and sporadic domestic
political upheavals, India has built the ninth largest industrial economy in the
world. It makes most of its own consumer goods as well as its own industrial
machinery. It exports a wide range of industrial items from machine tools to
power-generating equipment and builds steel mills, oil refineries, and fer-
tilizer plants in other Third World countries. In addition to its demonstrated
nuclear capability, India has become the sixth country to launch a space
satellite with its own launch vehicle. With its growing military-industrial
complex and the world's third largest pool of scientists and engineers, India
is certain to play an increasingly significant regional military role, and an
American policy that ignores this emerging reality would be dangerously
shortsighted and self-defeating.
Afghanistan: After the Soviet Withdrawal
An American shift to a more detached military aid posture in South Asia has
become a realistic policy objective in the context of the 1988 U.N. agreement
on a Soviet combat force withdrawal from Afghanistan. At the same time, it
should be recognized that Soviet—and American—involvement in the Af-
ghan civil war has not ended. The conflict between rival Afghan factions that
set the stage for the occupation is likely to continue with foreign encourage-
ment in a new and more virulent form.
On one side, the Soviet-subsidized Republic of Afghanistan is entrenched
in its city-state in Kabul and surrounding areas, supported not only by Soviet
money and advisers but also by its own elaborate Afghan military, paramili-
tary, and secret police apparatus. On the other, scattered groups of resistance
fighters, while better coordinated militarily than in the past, continue to lack
the political infrastructure that would be necessary to follow up their military
successes by establishing secure liberated areas in the countryside.
The prevailing Western image of the Afghan struggle has been grossly
oversimplified. In this imagery, there is a sharp dichotomy between an illegiti-
mate Kabul regime, unable to establish its writ beyond the capital, and an
alternative focus of legitimacy collectively provided by the resistance fighters,
who are seen as controlling most of the country's land area. It is true that
the Kabul regime does not have a firm grip on much of the countryside, but
neither does the resistance. In reality, most of Afghanistan, now as in past
decades and centuries, is governed by free-wheeling local tribal and ethnic
warlords.
Until its destruction in 1973, the monarchy had provided the sole focus
of political legitimacy and authority in Afghanistan for more than three cen-
turies. The Afghan state was just barely a state. It was loosely superimposed
atop a decentralized polity in which separate ethnic and tribal communities
paid obeisance to Kabul only so long as it accorded them substantial auton-
omy. The number of politicized Afghans who wanted to create a centralized
state was minuscule in relation to the total population. This politicized elite
consisted of three distinct groups: Western-oriented intellectuals, who made
up the largest segment; Soviet-oriented Communist factions; and Islamic
fundamentalist elements with Moslem Brotherhoood links in the Persian Gulf
and the Middle East. None of these groups had substantial independent orga-
nizational networks in the countryside. They were all equally dependent on
alliances with the local tribal and ethnic leaders, who held the real power
then and who continue to hold the real power in Afghanistan today.
The concept of legitimacy has little meaning against the backdrop of
recent Afghan political history. The destruction of the monarchy left a politi-
cal vacuum in which no consensus existed concerning the future of the Afghan
polity, and no one group could make a clear-cut claim to greater legitimacy
than another. Neither the Communists nor the Islamic fundamentalists
claimed more than a few thousand members each in 1973. But even a few
thousand disciplined, highly motivated members loomed large in what was
such a limited political universe.
In addition to posing ideological challenges to the Western-oriented elite,
the Communist and fundamentalist movements were vehicles of social protest
by disadvantaged elements of the Afghan populace. The Parcham (Flag)
Communist faction represented many of those in the detribalized Kabul intel-
ligentsia and bureaucracy who felt shut out of power by the narrow dynastic
in-group that dominated both the monarchy and the republic set up by Zahir
Shah's jealous cousin, the late Mohammed Daud. The rival Khalq (Masses)
faction had more of a tribal base, drawing largely on out-groups within the
Pushtuns, Afghanistan's largest ethnic bloc. As the American anthropologist
Jon Anderson has observed, the Khalqi leaders consisted largely of politicized
"second sons and younger brothers" from the weaker tribes in the Ghilzai
branch of the Pushtuns, searching for channels of social ascent in the face of
the monopoly on military, bureaucratic, and professional jobs enjoyed by the
Durrani Pushtuns centered in the royal family.40 By contrast, the strongest
fundamentalist cadres were organized in ethnic minority areas, such as the
predominantly Tajik Pansjer Valley. The much-publicized resistance hero,
Ahmad Shah Massoud, and his mentor, Jamaat Islami leader Burhanuddin
Rabbani, built their organizational base in the Pansjer long before the Soviet
occupation, preaching not only the Jamaat brand of fundamentalism but
also the cause of Tajik liberation from Pushtun exploitation.
The intractability of the political stalemate in Afghanistan today can
only be understoood if one recognizes that the present conflict began as a
civil war. To be sure, many Afghans who welcomed the Communist takeover
in 1978 were alienated by the brutality and over-zealous reforms of the late
Hafizullah Amin, and most Afghans today feel that the Communist leaders
who succeeded Amin have sullied their patriotic credentials as a result of
their collaboration with the Russians. At the same time, it has been a mistake
to think of the Afghan struggle in black-and-white terms as one between the
Russians on one side and all Afghans on the other. The essence of the Afghan
dilemma has been that a small but well-organized minority of Afghans has
either supported or tolerated the Communist regime.
On a visit to Kabul in March 1984, I was reminded forcibly that dedica-
tion and a patriotic self-image are not a monopoly of the resistance fighters.
The Afghan Communists see themselves as carrying forward the abortive
modernization effort launched by King Amanullah in the 1920s. The Com-
munist organization is clearly much stronger now than it was in 1978, even
if one assumes that many of the new party recruits are mere job-seekers.
Communist sources claim that the party membership rose from its 1978 level
of some 5000 to 150,000 in 1986. A U.S. government intelligence analyst
contends that 75,000 would be a more accurate number but acknowledges,
in any case, that the party "is unmistakably growing. Expansion of member-
ship among peasants and soldiers has meant a smaller pool of capable, com-
mitted activists for the resistance to draw on."41
Based on my 1984 visit and subsequent research, my own estimate is
that the party had between 25,000 and 35,000 hard-core activists in 1988,
allowing for the fact that many new recruits are ideologically unreliable job-
seekers. Moreover, the number of Communist true believers is continually
enlarged by the return of at least 20,000 Afghan youths who have been sent
to the Soviet Union for training. The number of Afghans on the Soviet-
subsidized payroll of the Kabul regime appears to be some 350,000, includ-
ing about 60,000 in the army, another 75,000 in various paramilitary forces,
and at least 25,000 in the secret police. Communist activists have been in-
stalled in key positions throughout the government structure, with 64 percent
of the party membership concentrated in military and paramilitary com-
mand posts.42
The Afghan Communists have rationalized their collaboration with the
Russians as the only way available to consolidate their revolution in the face
of foreign "interference." As German journalist Andreas Kohlschutter of
Die Zeit reported after a visit to Kabul, the commitment of the Communists
to rapid modernization enables them to win a grudging tolerance from many
members of the "modern-minded middle class, who feel trapped between
two fires: the Russians and fanatic Muslims opposed to social reforms."43
Confronted with a choice between the Communists and the Islamic funda-
mentalist leaders of the major resistance groups, such Afghans simply sit on
the sidelines. In Kabul I found a widespread ambivalence toward the post-
1980 Communist leaders as "moderates" who are trying to live down Amin's
extremist mistakes.
Amin had sought to centralize the country overnight, riding roughshod
over the autonomy traditionally enjoyed by both the Pushtun tribes and by
non-tribal ethnic minorities. His attempts to replace established local power
structures with a Communist administrative network aroused an armed resis-
tance that helped to set the stage for the Soviet occupation. Amin also alien-
ated businessmen, merchants, and small and middle landowners with his
doctrinaire land reform and economic policies. Most important, he directly
challenged the power and prerogatives of Islamic dignitaries, provoking the
active intervention of Islamic fundamentalist groups throughout the Persian
Gulf and the Middle East in support of the nascent anti-Communist insur-
gency.
In contrast to the excesses of the Amin period, post-1980 Communist
leaders have pursued soft-line policies designed to undercut the insurgency.
In particular, Kabul has now adopted a system of local government con-
sciously structured to avoid a collision with grass-roots tribal and ethnic
elites. On paper, at least, the tribes as such have representation in local gov-
ernment machinery in accordance with their numerical strength. The Com-
munist Party promises not to run candidates for local bodies below the level
of the woleswali, or district (roughly equivalent to several counties in the
United States), which will give the tribes de facto autonomy if the promise
is kept.
Apart from its offers of local autonomy, Kabul has also sought to moder-
ate the image of monolithic Communist rule at the national level associated
with Amin by emphasizing its character as a "national democratic revolu-
tion" in which non-Communist Afghans can share power. On December 22,
1985, Pravda signaled this new emphasis on power-sharing, conceding that
"far from all people in Afghanistan, even among working sections of the
population, accepted the Revolution."44 This foreshadowed subsequent pro-
nouncements acknowledging more explicitly the limitations of the Afghan
Communists, especially one in Literaturnaya Gazeta on February 17, 1988,
attacking the "false belief" that a countrywide Communist regime could be
established in Afghanistan's "medieval broth" of tribal and ethnic conflict.
As Moscow's pressure for power-sharing has increased, non-Communists
have been appointed to highly visible but relatively powerless government
positions as deputy prime minister and as deputy ministers and advisers in
various government ministries. A non-Communist businessman has replaced
a top Communist leader as president of the National Front, the regime's
major organizational link with cooperative non-Communists. In a move
heralded as paving the way for new political parties, the governing Revolu-
tionary Council announced in 1986 that non-Communist "organizations and
socio-political groups" could be formed, provided they were ready to coop-
erate with the National Front.45 The new Constitution promulgated in 1987
went further, authorizing a "multi-party system," and several small parties
nominally competed with the Communists in elections for a bicameral parlia-
ment in April 1988. But the government acknowledged the difficulties of
conducting an election under wartime conditions, reporting a turnout of 1.5
million voters. Similarly, when local elections were held in 1985, Kabul con-
ceded that voting had been completed in only 8 out of 29 provinces.46
To counter the accusation by resistance groups that it is anti-Islamic, the
regime emphasizes that it has spent $25 million since 1980 to revitalize
Islamic worship. The lion's share of this sum has been used to rebuild 1118
mosques and to construct 118 new ones. But a significant share has also gone
to provide new houses and other emoluments to the imams, or presiding dig-
nitaries, of the mosques, as well as stipends to 11,570 other functionaries of
mosques and religious schools.47 Land owned by religious dignitaries and
their institutions is exempt from land reforms.
Significantly, imams and mullahs are given power of review over the text-
books used in teaching 21,000 women said to be enrolled in literacy courses.48
A special effort has been made to recruit women in mass literacy programs
in order to capitalize on the resentment engendered among many younger
urban women by orthodox Islamic resistance to women's education.
In place of Amin's harsh land redistribution measures, Kabul now permits
peasants to own up to 45 acres, focusing its agricultural policy on price sub-
sidies and services for farmers, such as motor and tractor pools, agricultural
banks, and the distribution of fertilizer. Similarly, in an effort to win over
businessmen and merchants, the Communist regime issued decrees in 1980
guaranteeing private property rights and granting tax holidays up to six years
for new investments, together with customer-free imports of machinery.
Far from offering an alternative focus of legitimacy to Kabul, the resis-
tance groups are themselves divided along ethnic, tribal, and sectarian lines.
Repeatedly during the past five years, they have failed to establish a collec-
tive identity despite intense pressure from Washington and Arab capitals.
Morover, since they are organized primarily to conduct military operations,
most of them do not have disciplined political cadres capable of building
an underground political and administrative infrastructure at the local level.
The Pansjer Valley, Kandahar and Herat cities, and parts of Ghazni district
are conspicuous exceptions to this generalization. In these areas, one or more
resistance groups have relatively solid political foundations that could con-
ceivably become the basis for liberated zones similar to those established in
China, Vietnam, Guinea-Bissau, and other Third World countries where
guerrilla armies have been successful. Kabul is likely to face significant re-
sistance in the Pansjer indefinitely despite the relentless onslaught of the
Soviet military juggernaut in offensive after offensive. But the fact that the
Pansjer is an ethnic minority Tajik area, and a stronghold of the fundamen-
talist groups, limits its potential as a rallying point for the resistance in the
Pushtun areas and other parts of the country where the fundamentalist appeal
is weak.
Islamic fundamentalism is not as strong in Afghanistan as it is often
assumed. It is arrayed against the entire traditional Islamic leadership as well
as against Western-oriented and Communist modernizers alike. More impor-
tant, with their pan-Islamic ideology, the fundamentalist groups have alien-
ated the powerful tribal hierarchy in the Pushtun areas by calling for the
abolition of tribalism as incompatible with their conception of a centralized
Islamic state.
Except in the Pansjer Valley and several urban areas, the fundamentalist
groups have never had significant locally based organizations, but the advent
of a Communist Afghanistan in 1978 gave their exiled leaders a golden
opportunity to build cadres among the Afghan refugees in Pakistan. Since

1978 they have received substantial support from fundamentalist elements
in the Middle East and the Gulf. Most of the $2.1 billion in American and
American-orchestrated aid to the resistance channeled through Pakistani
authorities has also gone to the fundamentalists rather than to tribally based
Pushtun elements of the resistance. One reason for this is that the Zia Ul-Haq
regime in Islamabad depended on political support from the Pakistani fun-
damentalist groups. Another is the legacy of Pushtun irredentism. The
Pushtuns in Afghanistan have periodically demanded the return of Pushtun
areas annexed by the British Raj a century ago and later bequeathed to Pakis-
tan when it was created in 1947. Pakistani leaders fear that Pushtun refugees
from Afghanistan might now combine with Pakistani Pushtuns to demand the
creation of a separate "Pushtunistan" in the Pakistani-Afghan borderlands.
Thus, Islamabad consciously sought to prevent Pushtun groups from using
the conflict to coalesce politically and to strengthen themselves militarily.
The United States accepted the Pakistani rationale that military effective-
ness should be the only criterion for aid allocations. This gave Islamabad
carte blanche to channel aid to the relatively cohesive fundamentalist para-
military cadres, based in Pakistan, rather than to the more loosely organized
but locally prestigious Pushtun tribal guerrillas operating in the Afghan coun-
tryside. As a result, in the continuing civil war likely to follow the Soviet
departure, the fundamentalists will be better organized and better armed than
ever before.
The United States was cool to the United Nations negotiations on a Soviet
force withdrawal from the inception of the U.N. effort in 1982 until the first
Reagan-Gorbachev summit in November 1985. Soon after the summit, how-
ever, the United States announced its qualified support of the U.N. with-
drawal agreement that was then beginning to crystallize. The accord was
nominally between Islamabad and Kabul but provided for guarantees by both
Moscow and Washington. Formally pledging to serve as a guarantor, the
Reagan Administration conditioned its acceptance of the U.N. accord on the
resolution of one, and only one, outstanding issue: the duration, stages and
"irreversibility" of the Soviet withdrawal process. The Administration did
not seek to alter the essential character of the bargain embodied in the accord.
A Soviet commitment to a complete withdrawal was to be exchanged for the
termination of U.S. weapons aid to the Afghan resistance.
This change in American policy set the stage for progress in the U.N.
negotiations that was accelerated as Mikhail Gorbachev moved to reshape
Soviet foreign policy. Gorbachev's desire to remove the increasingly costly
Afghan conflict as an impediment to improved superpower relations was
reflected in a series of significant Soviet concessions in the U.N. dialogue
during the next two years. By the second Reagan-Gorbachev summit in
December 1987, agreement had been reached on all aspects of the agreement
except the duration of the withdrawal. Thus, in the expectation of a settle-
ment, Moscow played its trump card on February 8, 1988, announcing its
readiness for a nine-month disengagement, with half of its forces to be re-
moved in the first three months. Two weeks later, however, under pressure
from Congressional critics, the Administration added a major new condition:
the termination or suspension of Soviet military aid to the Kabul Communist
regime.
The demand for "symmetry" directly collided with the underlying real-
politik approach of the withdrawal agreement. The U.N. formula had carefully
avoided placing Moscow in the position of conceding defeat by abandoning
its Afghan clients. Distinguishing between military aid to a U.N.-accredited
government and aid to insurgents, it did not address the issue of Soviet
weapons aid to Kabul. It did not require the replacement of the Kabul regime
as a precondition for the withdrawal. At first, when Washington made its
demand, a collapse of the negotiations appeared likely. In a last-minute tri-
umph of diplomatic legerdemain, however, Moscow and Washington nego-
tiated a secret side-agreement that permitted the withdrawal to go forward
within the framework of the U.N. accord.
Both superpowers would give their clients enough arms beforehand to
last for the nine-month withdrawal period or longer. Both would then sus-
pend aid for an unspecified period. This meant that the U.S. would be in
compliance with the ban on its aid in the agreement when the withdrawal
started. Moscow would not have to concede publicly that it had suspended
aid. But the Reagan Administration, anxious to placate conservative critics
of the agreement, would be free to state that it reserved the right to violate
the ban on its aid when, and if, Moscow should resupply weaponry to Kabul.
During the withdrawal, the United Nations would seek to promote a non-
aligned coalition government in which the armed forces would no longer
be under Communist control. The issue of Soviet military aid would then be
neutralized and both sides would give economic and military aid to the new
regime.
Given the fragility of this compromise, the likelihood of continued civil
war with covert foreign support was taken for granted by most foreign ob-
servers in mid-1988. Among Afghans, however, significant support existed
for a non-aligned coalition government that would reduce the level of vio-
lence in the country and thus attract the international support necessary for
a major reconstruction effort.
Most Pushtuns, including Pushtun resistance commanders and the major-
ity of the returning refugees,49 looked to former King Zahir Shah as a key
figure in such a regime. The former monarch has long advocated a "national
unity" government in which the Communists would be reduced to a junior
partner's role, with the armed forces, the police and the intelligence services
in non-Communist hands. This has been resisted by the Communists, who
have unsuccessfully appealed to Zahir Shah for power-sharing within the
framework of the Communist regime. A coalition regime has also been re-
jected by the fundamentalists, who have demanded a government under their
aegis with no Communist participation.
What appeared to be emerging in mid-1988 was a complex struggle in
which tribal and fundamentalist factions would fight each other as well as
the Kabul regime. Moscow, for its part, indicated its readiness for a coalition
regime, but appeared confident that the Communists would, in any case, sur-
vive as a political force. While the Kabul regime might not prevail over
much of the country, Soviet analysts suggested, the Communists would re-
main strong enough to prevent a fundamentalist takeover.50
The U.N. agreement provides only for the withdrawal of Soviet combat
forces, pointedly omitting any reference to Soviet advisers.51 Thus, so long
as Moscow continues to have a client regime in Afghanistan, however limited
in authority, Soviet military advisers can remain there, maintaining airfields,
military communications and other military facilities in a state of readiness.
Moscow will be in a position to reintroduce its forces on short notice. Never-
theless, in the event of a future military crisis involving the movement of
Soviet forces through Afghanistan, the United States and its allies would
have much more warning time than at present. A Soviet combat force with-
drawal clearly serves Western security interests in the Gulf and Southwest
Asia by relieving the immediate military pressure resulting from ongoing
Soviet force deployments and from the ongoing operational use of Soviet
bases. With respect to Soviet advisers, it should be kept in mind that Moscow
had some 6000 military advisers in Afghanistan when the non-Communist
Mohammed Daud regime was unseated by the Communists in 1978.
American security interests would be served by a non-aligned coalition
government because such a regime would be likely to limit the Soviet ad-
visory presence and seek to renegotiate or abrogate the 1978 Soviet-Afghan
treaty concluded by the Communist regime. Article IV of the 1978 treaty
provides that "the High Contracting Parties shall consult with each other
and shall, by agreement, take the necessary steps to safeguard the security,
independence and territorial integrity of the two countries." This has been
compared to the 1948 Soviet-Finnish treaty, which provides for the possible
return of Soviet troops "by mutual agreement" in the event that "Finland, or
the Soviet Union through the territory of Finland, becomes the object of
military aggression."
Should a coalition government emerge, the United States should press for
restrictions that would confine Soviet military advisers to Kabul. In a non-
aligned Afghanistan, there should be no Soviet military bases, and the pres-
ence of Soviet advisers at military installations around the country would
signify a covert Soviet base presence in violation of the U.N. accord.
Avenues to Detente in the Indian Ocean and the Persian Gulf
Apart from the specific modalities of the 1988 United Nations' force with-
drawal agreement, an enduring Afghan settlement would have to be ac-
companied by parallel understandings between the United States and the
Soviet Union designed to neutralize Iran and Pakistan as arenas of great-
power conflict. In particular, Washington and Moscow would have to make
appropriate diplomatic efforts to reassure each other that neither would intro-
duce combat forces or mutually threatening bases or facilities into the two
countries. Such mutual restraint agreements in Iran and Pakistan, accom-
panied by a winding down of the conflict in Afghanistan, would enhance
opportunities, in turn, for a larger Soviet-American arms control dialogue
during the decades ahead addressed to the Indian Ocean region as a whole.
Former Secretary of State Cyrus Vance wanted to propose a mutual
restraint agreement to Moscow covering both Pakistan and Iran following
the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan in 1979 but was prevented from doing
so by then National Security Adviser Zbigniew Brzezinski. Recalling this epi-
sode in his memoirs, Brzezinski explained that he "failed to see what U.S.
interest would be served by making the Soviet Union in effect the co-guaran-
tor of neutrality in the Persian Gulf region."52 In the immediate aftermath of
the Soviet occupation, Brzezinski's view had resonance, but the Vance ap-
proach would serve U.S. interests in the context of the Soviet combat force
withdrawal.
As a practical matter, the opportunity for a formal or informal mutual
restraint agreement in the immediate future would be greater in Iran than in
Pakistan. Washington is already deeply involved with Islamabad, while both
superpowers feel excluded from preferential access to Tehran. Nonetheless,
Moscow continually says that it fears a new U.S. effort to gain military access
to Iran in the period after the Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, and Washing-
ton points to the threat of a Soviet invasion of Iran as the principal justifica-
tion for its Central Command buildup.
In the case of Pakistan, both the United States and the Soviet Union have
understandable reasons for their mutual suspicion. Many in Washington fear
that Moscow may seek to break up Pakistan, if necessary, in order to estab-
lish naval bases at Karachi and Gwadar. This anxiety is rekindled periodically
by Soviet threats to punish Islamabad for its pro-Washington stance by arm-
ing Baluch insurgents. Moscow has its own suspicions that the Pentagon
wants military bases on the Pakistani coast. Pakistani officials privately say
that Islamabad has agreed to permit American P-3C anti-submarine and
reconnaissance aircraft to refuel in Pakistani airfields. These stopovers are
of marginal importance to the United States but are perceived by the Soviet
Union as the cutting edge of what might become an expanding American
base presence.
The danger of a U.S.-Soviet collision in Pakistan could become acute if
the United States should seek to install electronic intelligence facilities there.
In the 1950s and 1960s, Pakistan permitted the United States to base U-2
spy planes on its territory and operate electronic monitoring stations in
return for U.S. military hardware. Washington obtained valuable intelligence
relating partly to arms control. But the United States paid a heavy political
price for these benefits because it was the American military buildup of
Pakistan during this period that opened the way for Soviet military aid to
India and Soviet penetration of the Afghan armed forces. Since the loss of
U.S. facilities in Iran, the National Security Agency has been eyeing Pakis-
tan once again, this time as a possible location for monitoring the lift-off
stage of Soviet anti-satellite missile and intercontinental ballistic missile tests

in central Asia as well as for early warning in the event that Soviet anti-
satellite missiles are fired at U.S. satellites from central Asian sites.
The Pakistani bureaucracy, as well as Pakistani public opinion, is deeply
divided over the American connection. Former Foreign Minister Agha Shahi
was eased out in 1982 partly because he felt that the Zia regime was moving
too far and too fast into the American camp. Shahi reflected what became the
dominant trend of public opinion when he stressed the urgent need for the
United States to "change from a policy of raising the costs of the Soviet occu-
pation [of Afghanistan] or excluding that superpower from the [Middle East]
peace-making process to one of enlisting its cooperation in arriving at peace-
ful settlements."53
At one point during the U.N. negotiations over Afghanistan, Moscow
went beyond the concept of mutual restraint agreements, signaling its possible
interest in a more far-reaching approach suggestive of a condominium. The
initial U.N. draft text of the proposed guarantee of the Afghan settlement by
the superpowers envisaged separate but identical Soviet and American state-
ments. But in its revised draft, submitted at the August 1984 round of nego-
tiations, Moscow proposed a joint U.S.-Soviet statement. The United States
and the Soviet Union, in this document, not only were to pledge their own
"non-intervention" in Pakistan and Afghanistan but were also to promise to
join in resisting intervention by third parties.
The United States clearly should avoid any hint of a condominum while
pursuing more limited agreements designed to prevent a U.S.-Soviet military
confrontation. Moscow and Washington are engaged in a serious political and
economic competition in the Indian Ocean/Persian Gulf area. The recent
Soviet normalization of relations with Oman and the United Arab Emirates
indicates that this competition is likely to intensify. Precisely for this reason,
however, the superpowers should search for ways to make their rivalry less
dangerous and less costly. For example, the Indo-American Task Force on
the Indian Ocean has recommended that "the United States, the USSR and
other concerned countries . . . explore the possibility of agreements ensur-
ing unimpeded oil tanker traffic through the Strait of Hormuz and other
'choke points.' " Former State Department official Christopher Van Hollen
made similar proposals in the Summer 1981 issue of Foreign Affairs.
Against the background of a relaxation of tensions in Afghanistan, Iran,
and Pakistan, the United States and the Soviet Union could begin to con-
front the overarching long-term challenge of regional arms control. Indeed,
the Soviet withdrawal could be used to open the way for a larger arms con-
trol dialogue, with a formal agreement barring Soviet bases in Afghanistan
linked to a U.S. quid pro quo concerning one or more of the U.S. bases in
the Persian Gulf and the Indian Ocean.
The superpower arms race in the Indian Ocean and the Persian Gulf
could prove to be not only more dangerous than is generally realized but
also more expensive. A Congressional Budget Office projection suggested that
the Central Command would entail cumulative defense budget increases sur-
passing $45 billion in 1988.54 Although the United States has achieved naval
superiority in the Indian Ocean, Soviet capabilities for competing with the
United States are growing. As observed earlier, Moscow could well seek to
deploy some of its projected Forrestal-class aircraft carriers and amphibious
landing craft in the Indian Ocean region.
In devising new approaches to regional arms control, it is helpful to recall
the principal elements of the draft treaty that was under discussion between
the United States and the Soviet Union in 1977 and 1978.
The agreement would have prohibited both sides from altering "signifi-
cantly . . . past patterns and levels of military deployments" in the region,
from acquiring new bases, and from expanding then existing facilities. A
considerable area of agreement emerged in four rounds of negotiations con-
cerning the precise character of the actual past patterns and levels of deploy-
ments of the two sides. Thus it was envisaged that the Soviet Union could
continue to deploy 18 to 20 surface vessels, up to one-half of them com-
batants. The United States could continue to station its three-ship force at
Bahrain and to send three task forces per year into the Indian Ocean. At
least one of those could include a carrier battle group, provided that only one
task force would be deployed in the area at any one time and that it would
not remain for more than 65 days. Similarly, since neither side had previously
deployed strategic bombers carrying offensive weapons in the region, neither
could introduce such systems.
The sensitive issue of submarine operations was handled with calculated
ambiguity. As explained by U.S. participants in the talks, given the U.S.
policy of neither confirming nor denying the existence of nuclear weapons in
a particular military environment, the negotiations could not address the
nature of "past patterns and levels of deployment" of submarines in the
region frontally and explicitly, as in the case of surface vessels. Nevertheless,
in seeking to counter past Soviet charges of U.S. nuclear saber rattling, the
United States had informally assured some of the major littoral states that it
did not operate routine patrols of nuclear-missile-firing submarines in the
Indian Ocean and that the transit of such submarines there, if it had in fact
occurred, had been at a "low level." The Soviet Union, these sources note,
was aware of this American posture, so U.S. readiness to agree to the "past
patterns and levels" concept had a significant diplomatic and political mean-
ing in Soviet eyes.
The draft agreement took cognizance of the fact that neither side had
previously established in the Indian Ocean facilities dedicated to supporting
forward-deployed submarines and contained an explicit pledge that neither
would introduce such facilities in the future. However, the agreement did not
cover operations by submarines relying on bases or support facilities located
outside the Indian Ocean. One of the unresolved issues in the negotiations
was how to define the geographic boundaries of the Indian Ocean so as to
permit the United States to use its bases in western Australia to support naval
units, including submarines, and to upgrade and expand these bases as de-
sired.
Moscow had one frequently stated, overriding objective in the 1977—78

negotiations: to remove or reduce the threat of U.S. nuclear weapons aimed
at the Soviet Union from submarines or other launching facilities located in
the Indian Ocean. Washington sought primarily to place limits on the Soviet
building of conventional forces in the region. The negotiations had reached
a promising stage when the United States broke them off, nominally in pro-
test over the Soviet move into Ethiopia.
In Soviet eyes, the most important unresolved issue was the U.S. refusal
to bar carrier-based aircraft capable of reaching Soviet targets. But agreed-to
limits on numbers of ships and the amount of time during which they could
be stationed in the Indian Ocean would have meant a reduction of the strate-
gic threat to the Soviet Union and its local forces from U.S. forces there.
The Soviet Union retains an undiminished interest in limiting U.S. strate-
gic deployments in the Indian Ocean. The United States, for its part, has a
greater interest than ever in limiting the Soviet conventional buildup, given
the continuing growth in Soviet capabilities. Moreover, as noted earlier,
anxieties are growing in many of the Indian Ocean littoral states as a result
of the uncontrolled escalation of the superpower military presence. Since the
United States now has a larger presence than the Soviet Union, Washington
is incurring increasingly heavy political and diplomatic costs in some coun-
tries.
The United States has greater bargaining flexibility as a result of the new
Trident submarine-launched ballistic missile. Its predecessors had ranges of
only 2500 nautical miles, and it was often argued that the proximity of the
Arabian Sea to major Soviet targets would make it desirable for U.S. missile-
firing submarines to patrol regularly there. Given the 6000-plus-mile range
of the Trident II (D-5) missile, the proximity argument is less compelling.
The United States was unwilling in 1978 to accept limits on its carrier-
based aircraft in the absence of adequate reciprocal restrictions on Soviet
land-based strike aircraft, including aircraft based at facilities inside Soviet
territory adjacent to Southwest Asia. Washington argued that it needs to
offset the advantage enjoyed by the Soviets because of their proximity to the
Persian Gulf, where America has vital interests. Moscow countered that the
immediate security of the Soviet homeland itself is threatened by U.S. nuclear
weapons deployed so close to its borders. This issue has been complicated by
the subsequent acquisition of new bases by both powers. At this stage, how-
ever, the development of the new bases has not, in most cases, passed the
point of no return, and the opportunity still exists for regional trade-offs
encompassing land- and sea-based forces alike.
The major American objectives in such trade-offs should be to preclude
the Soviet use of military facilities in Afghanistan as operating bases, together
with other limitations on Soviet forces based outside Soviet territory, notably
at Aden in South Yemen and at Dahlak Kebir Island off Ethiopia. Moscow
no doubt would emphasize the threat it perceives from Diego Garcia, as well
as from nuclear-capable aricraft based on U.S. carriers in the region. If
land-sea trade-offs prove possible, an agreement on time limits for ship
deployments could again be explored. Although the United States should not
foreclose its option of deploying nuclear-missile submarines in times of crisis,
it should go as far as possible in limiting its nuclear presence in the Indian
Ocean.
Like the problem of mutual force reductions in central Europe, arms
control issues relating to the Indian Ocean/Persian Gulf region are closely
interwoven with larger arms control issues and can only be confronted effec-
tively through direct discussion between the superpowers. At the same time,
both Washington and Moscow should be prepared to acknowledge in some
form the legitimate interest of the littoral states in the nature and level of
military deployments in the region. For example, a Zone of Peace conference
or, in its absence, the existing U.N. Ad Hoc Committee could create an arms
control working group that could be given a consultative role in any Soviet-
American arms control dialogue. As indicated earlier, most of the littoral
states now view a Zone of Peace conference as a symbolic exercise that
would help to push the superpowers to the bargaining table. In place of the
goal of a fully demilitarized zone originally envisaged, the littoral states are
now seeking to stabilize the Soviet-American military rivalry through mutual
force reductions. The United States should no longer stand in the way of the
proposed conference now that Moscow is withdrawing its forces from Af-
ghanistan.
Both superpowers are politically and psychologically alienated from pub-
lic opinion throughout the littoral states and would profit from a relaxation
of tensions. Such a relaxation would require parallel negotiating processes
linking observance of the U.N. agreement on Afghanistan with mutual re-
straint agreements in Iran and Pakistan as well as a broader arms control
dialogue. For the Soviet Union, the end of the eight-year Afghan occupation
offers an opportunity to erase damage to its image that has been especially
severe in the Gulf and the Arab world. For the United States, the Soviet
withdrawal is likely to mean a reappraisal of relations with Pakistan, which
will no longer be a "front-line" state and will encounter growing skepticism
when it demands the most advanced weaponry in American arsenals. As sug-
gested earlier, if the Communist regime in Kabul survives, limited military
assistance to Islamabad would be desirable. But a continuation of sophisti-
cated military aid at the levels that have prevailed since 1980 would place
the United States on a collision course with India—a course that would be-
come increasingly damaging to American security interests as New Delhi
achieves growing regional power and importance in the decades ahead.
Notes
1. Ravi Rikhye, The Fourth Round: Indo-Pak War 1984 (New Delhi: ABC
Publishing House, 1982), esp. pp. 203 and 216-241.
2. As "natural extensions," the Persian Gulf and the Red Sea have been spe-
cifically included within the scope of the projected American-Soviet arms control
agreement discussed in 1977 and 1978 and in the Zone of Peace discussions in the
U.N. Ad Hoc Committee on the Indian Ocean.
3. In addition to a representative spectrum of officials, political leaders, jour-
nalists, scholars, and businessmen, I was able to meet the following ranking leaders
in the six countries visited: the late Prime Minister Indira Gandhi of India; Presi-
dent Junius Jayewardena of Sri Lanka; President France Albert Rene of the
Seychelles; Prime Minister Aneerood Jugnauth of Mauritius; Guy Rajaonson, Na-
tional Security Adviser to President Didier Ratsiraka of Madagascar; and Deputy
Foreign Minister Philip Leakey of Kenya. In La Reunion, a territory of France,
I met Capitaine de Vaisseau Michel Karle, Commander of French naval forces in
the southern Indian Ocean and French military intelligence specialists in southern
Indian Ocean affairs who requested anonymity.
4. Soviet Military Power (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Department of Defense,
1984), p. 125.
5. Selig S. Harrison, "The United States and South Asia," a paper prepared
for a conference on "Defense Planning for the 1990's and the Changing Interna-
tional Environment," sponsored by the National Defense University, Washington,
October 7-8, 1983. See also William Arkin, "Limiting Nuclear Navies," Interna-
tional Herald Tribune, July 9, 1988, p. 5.
6. "Emerging Issues in the Indian Ocean: The Military Dimension," a paper
prepared for the Indo-American Task Force on the Indian Ocean, co-sponsored by
the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace and the Indian Committee on
Cultural Relations, November 25-December 2, 1984, pp. 72-73.
7. "The Soviet Union in the Indian Ocean: Much Ado About Something, But
What?," Asian Survey, September 1984, p. 914.
8. See Marion and Burton Benedict, Men, Women and Money in the Sey-
chelles (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982), esp. pp. 103-149.
9. Shiva Naipaul, "A Seychellois Identity," The Spectator, November 19,
1983, p. 12.
10. Paradise Raped (London: Methuen, 1980), p. 118.
11. Ibid., p. 147.
12. Ibid., esp. pp. 116-117, 152, 193.
13. See The Constitution of the Seychelles People's Progressive Front (Vic-
toria, Mahe: Government Press, September 1978).
14. For example, see "Private Eye Foils Seychelles Coup," The Sunday Times
(London), December 4, 1983.
15. Hearings on Military Posture and HR 2614, Committee on Armed Ser-
vices, U.S. House of Representatives, 97th Congress, 1st Session, p. 280.
16. Robert I. Hanks, The Cape Route: Imperiled Western Lifeline (Cam-
bridge, Mass.: Institute for Foreign Policy Analysis, February 1981).
17. For example, see "The Indian Ocean: A New Caribbean?," AfricAsia
(Paris), February 1984, pp. 35-36.
18. Report of the Select Committee on the Excision of the Chagos Archipelago
(Port Louis, Mauritius: Mauritius Legislative Assembly, Government Printer,
June 1983), pp. 14, 36.
19. Ibid., p. 37.
20. Ibid.
21. Ibid., pp. 32-33.
22. For example, see April 18, 1973, esp. p. 608; April 3, 1979, esp. p. 113;
April 10, 1979, esp. pp. 302-306; April 16, 1981, esp. pp. 486-494; and My 27,
1982, pp. 1248-1250.
23. See the late Prime Minister Indira Gandhi's press conference in Port Louis
on August 24, 1982, and her Washington press conference on July 30, 1982.
24. Views Expressed by Member States of the Ad Hoc Committee on the
Indian Ocean, Background Paper, United Nations, General Assembly, New York,
Document A/AC/159/L55, July 5, 1983, p. 25.
25. Ibid., p. 19.
26. Kirdi Kipoyudo, "Important Developments in the Indian Ocean Area,"
Indonesian Quarterly 10, 2 (1983).
Indian Ocean, op. cit., p. 74.
28. Ibid., p. 36.
29. Proposal for a Set of Principles on the Indian Ocean as a Zone of Peace,
United Nations, General Assembly, Ad Hoc Committee on the Indian Ocean,
Document A/AC. 159/L44, May 21, 1982.
30. B. Tuzmakhamedov, "Space Limits of Peace Zone in the Indian Ocean,"
Soviet Review, No. 50 (December 12, 1983), pp. 28-29.
Indian Ocean, op. cit., p. 30.
32. Dieter Braun, The Indian Ocean: Region of Conflict or 'Peace Zone'?
(London: C. Hurst and Co., 1983), pp. 184-185.
33. India and the Indian Ocean: New Horizons (New Delhi: Sterling Pub-
lishers, 1983), p. 119.
34. P. K. S. Namboodiri, with J. P. Anand and Sreedhar, Intervention in the
Indian Ocean (New Delhi: ABC Publishing House, 1982), p. 234.
35. P. K. S. Namboodiri, "India and the Security of the Indian Ocean Islands,"
Strategic Analysis Quarterly (New Delhi: Institute of Defense Studies and Anal-
yses, 1982), p. 385.
36. "La Reunion: The Tamil Question," La Letter De L'Ocean Indien (Paris),
Septembers, 1984, p. 1.
37. "French Permission Sought to Open Consulate in Reunion Island," The
Hindu (Madras), March 17, 1984, p. 3.
38. India, the United States and the Indian Ocean, report of the Indo-Ameri-
can Task Force on the Indian Ocean (Washington, D.C.: Carnegie Endowment
for International Peace, 1985), p. 60.
To encourage candid discussion, the Task Force agreed that individual partici-
pants would not be quoted by name in the report.
39. Ibid., chapter three, presents a revealing dialogue between Indian and
American specialists concerning possible Indian concessions in Indian Ocean
policy in return for U.S. policy changes relating to Indian security concerns.
40. Jon Anderson, "Afghan Analogies, Afghan Realities" (unpublished ms.).
41. Craig M. Karp, "The War in Afghanistan," Foreign Affairs, Summer 1986,
p. 1038.
42. Bakhtar News Agency, Kabul, May 14, 1986; cited in Daily Report: South
Asia, Foreign Broadcast Information Service, May 15, 1986, p. Cl.
43. "Wir Warten Auf Unser Schicksal" (We Are Waiting for Our Fate), Die
Zeit, Dec. 28, 1984, p. 3.
44. Pravda, December 22, 1985, First Edition, p. 5; cited in Daily Report:
USSR International Affairs, Dec. 24, 1985, p. Dl.
45. Declaration of the Revolutionary Council, Bakhtar News Agency, Nov.

14, 1985, published by the Permanent Representative of the Democratic Republic
of Afghanistan to the United Nations, Nov. 29, 1985.
46. Kabul Domestic Service in Pashto, April 5, 1988, cited in FBIS South
Asia Report, April 6, 1988, p. 41; April 15, 1988, cited in FBIS South Asia Re-
port, April 18, 1988, p. 56. See also Bakhtar News Agency, Kabul, May 10,
1986, published by the Permanent Representative of the Democratic Republic of
Afghanistan to the United Nations, June 1, 1986.
47. Bakhtar News Agency, Kabul, March 8, 1986, published by the Permanent
Representative of the Democratic Republic of Afghanistan to the United Nations,
April 1, 1986.
48. Ibid.
49. A 1987 random sample poll conducted by the Afghan Information Center
in Peshawar of 2287 Afghan refugees in 106 out of 249 camps in Pakistan showed
that 71.65 percent of those polled wanted Zahir Shah to lead a postwar Afghan
government. See Selig S. Harrison, "Pacifying Afghanistan," The New York Times,
Dec. 4, 1987, p. A31.
50. Alexander Prokhanov, "Report from Kabul," Liternaturnaya Gazeta,
February 17, 1988.
51. For an elaboration of the terms of the projected U.N. agreement, see my
article "A Breakthrough in Afghanistan?," in Foreign Policy (Summer 1983); my
essay "The Soviet Union in Afghanistan: Retrospect and Prospect," in Hafeez
Malik, ed., International Security in Southwest Asia (New York: Praeger, 1984);
"South Asia: Avoiding Disaster," Foreign Policy, Spring 1986, pp. 134-40; and
"Toward Afghanistan Peace, New York Times, March 17, 1986, p. A22.
52. Zbigniew Brzezinski, Power and Principle (New York: Farrar, Straus,
Giroux, 1983), pp. 435-437.
53. Agha Shahi, address at Villanova University, Dec. 7, 1984.
54. Rapid Deployment Forces: Policy and Budgetary Implications, prepared
for the Senate Subcommittee on Sea Power and Force Projection by John D.
Mayer, Jr. (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Congress, Congressional Budget Office,
1983), p. 11.
Appendix
Conclusion and Recommendations of the

Indo-American Task Force on the Indian Ocean
The task force examined the military, political, and economic environment in
the Indian Ocean and its natural extensions, principally the Persian Gulf, the Red
Sea, the Gulf of Aden, and the Gulf of Oman, focusing on the danger of a military
confrontation between American and Soviet forces involving littoral and hinter-
land states. In particular, the group considered the potential impact of emerging
issues throughout the region on Indo-American relations.
Reviewing the escalation in superpower military deployments in the region
since 1977, the task force noted with satisfaction that American and Soviet ship
deployments, after reaching a peak in 1981, had declined perceptibly since 1983.
While still at higher levels than in 1977, the blue-water naval forces of the two
sides have not escalated for nearly two years. At the same time, Indian members
expressed anxieties concerning the qualitative change in American deployments
reflected in the regular stationing of a carrier battle group in the Arabian Sea.
They also called attention to the continuing growth in American and Soviet infra-
structural support facilities, especially the prepositioning of equipment and weap-
onry in military container vessels at Diego Garcia for use by U.S. rapid deploy-
ment forces. American members emphasized that Soviet land-based air capabilities
in and adjacent to the region had increased since 1977 and that the development
of Soviet strategic air bases in Afghanistan would significantly affect the military
balance.
With respect to the deployment of strategic nuclear weapons, the task force
agreed that the Indian Ocean has so far remained substantially free of nuclear
weapons deployment. There was evidence in the 1960s and 1970s suggesting that
the United States might have intended to deploy nuclear-missile-firing submarines
in the Indian Ocean. In practice, however, regular patrols of such submarines did
not materialize. Although the United States retains the option of submarine-
launched nuclear missile deployments in the region, utilizing its facilities in
western Australia, and of B-52 deployments from Diego Garcia, the Indian Ocean
287
288 APPENDIX
currently remains the only major ocean that has not been the site of the deploy-
ment of strategic nuclear weapons systems.
Looking ahead to emerging changes in military technology, the task force con-
cluded that a failure of global arms control efforts, especially the collapse of the
ABM Treaty, could open the way for various forms of new and destabilizing mili-
tary activity in the Indian Ocean by both superpowers, including possible nuclear
deployments. Cruise missile deployments will pose verification problems that are
likely to aggravate nuclear anxieties in the Indian Ocean region as well as in other
parts of the world. Given its location, the northern Arabian Sea could acquire
special sensitivity in the context of U.S. anti-satellite and other interception systems
related to the Strategic Defense Initiative and Soviet counter-measures. The group
warned that the present relative stability in superpower conventional naval deploy-
ments could abruptly change in a climate of increasing tension at the global and
regional level.
The task force underlined its concern that continuing instability in the region,
arising from interacting regional and extra-regional factors, could draw the super-
powers into a direct confrontation. Among the more explosive focal points of
instability singled out by the members were the war in Afghanistan and the con-
comitant conflict developing in the Afghanistan-Pakistan borderlands; Indo-Pakis-
tan tensions; the Iran-Iraq war; and uncertainty surrounding the political future of
Iran.
The group agreed that the United States and India have a common stake in
preserving the sovereignty and territorial integrity of the states of the region on
the basis of existing borders. While disagreeing on some aspects of the Afghan
issue, notably the factors that led to the Soviet intervention, American and Indian
members shared similar apprehensions that the security of Pakistan could be
adversely affected by the protracted continuation and possible expansion of the
Afghan conflict and a further influx of Afghan refugees. Pointing to Iran as a
critical nexus of superpower distrust, the task force observed that the Soviet Union
remains fearful of the reestablishment of American military influence there, while
the United States, for its part, maintains the present level of its Indian Ocean naval
presence primarily in preparation for the "worst case" scenario of a Soviet invasion
of northern Iran. Despite this vicious circle of distrust, however, it is noteworthy
that neither the United States nor the Soviet Union have, in fact, intervened with
combat forces during a series of crises in recent years. The record since the with-
drawal of Soviet forces in 1946 suggests a mutual awareness of the dangerous
potential of a military confrontation there and the emergence of a tacit under-
standing concerning the need for mutual restraint.
Against the background of continuing Indo-Pakistan tensions and the provision
of advanced American military technology to Pakistan, the American members
expressed their understanding of the Indian perception that the presence of a U.S.
carrier battle group in the Arabian Sea, together with the U.S. base at Diego
Garcia, could lead to intelligence sharing with Pakistan in the event of an India-
Pakistan war and possibly to more direct forms of American intervention on
Pakistan's side. India is also concerned that Saudi Arabia, China, and other third
parties may transfer U.S. military technology and equipment to Pakistan and that
American military sales to China could affect the India-China military balance,
especially in the Indian Ocean. The Indian members, in turn, indicated their un-
derstanding of the American perception that India could help to improve relations
with its smaller neighbors by demonstrating greater sensitivity to their concerns,
Appendix 289
including their perceived security concerns, thus making it easier for the United
States to avoid embroilment in intra-regional tensions. They acknowledged the
existence of widespread suspicions and misperceptions in the United States con-
cerning the integrity of Indian non-alignment, especially in relation to Soviet
military aid. The group recognized that the major reasons for India's arms procure-
ment in the Soviet Union lay in differences with the United States over aspects of
its arms sales and technological transfer policies and in liberal Soviet financial
terms. The task force agreed that sustained confidence-building measures by both
sides would be necessary to manage the tensions resulting from the American
naval presence in the Indian Ocean, the U.S. security relationship with Pakistan,
and the fears expressed by some littoral states concerning the anticipated develop-
ment of the Indian navy.
While recognizing the gravity of the problems troubling Indo-American rela-
tions and the need for more sustained efforts to accommodate differences, the task
force emphasized the strong foundations of the relationship, anchored in common
values as open societies with representative political systems, growing economic
and cultural linkages, and a shared commitment to the maintenance of freedom
of navigation and other international legal regimes. A more mature relationship
is developing as India becomes increasingly strong and self-confident in its role
as a major self-reliant power with acknowledged maritime capabilities in the Indian
Ocean region and a leading force in the Non-Aligned Movement. Citing Indian
moves to liberalize its economy, the group felt that recent Indo-American under-
standings designed to facilitate U.S. dual-use high-technology exports to India
reflected a welcome new flexibility on both sides that could lead over time to a
significant expansion of economic interdependencies with sophisticated technologi-
cal content.
The task force reviewed the unsuccessful efforts of littoral and hinterland
states since 1971 to advance the concept of the Indian Ocean as a Zone of Peace.
The discussion highlighted Indian support for proposals to convene a Zone of
Peace conference on the basis of the 1971 United Nations Zone of Peace Declara-
tion, as distinct from the subsequent variations of the proposal, and an American
emphasis on global and regional arms control negotiations as a more promising
means of pursuing the objectives of the 1971 declaration. The Indian members
and some American members felt that a conference would be a desirable first step
in arms control initiatives. Despite differences on the issue of a conference, how-
ever, the group found considerable common ground with respect to the desirability
of arms control efforts and concluded that the issue of a conference need not be
a major irritant in bilateral relations.
The group agreed that the Law of the Sea Treaty constituted a landmark in
the development of an international legal regime in the seas and considered it
significant that most of its key provisions had been universally accepted as cus-
tomary law. The American decision not to sign the treaty, based on objections to
the seabed mining provisions, after earlier support for these provisions, had cre-
ated complications, but the United States itself had benefited from many aspects
of the treaty, including freedom of passage through straits. The task force expressed
its support for the "Common Heritage of Mankind" principle underlying the treaty
and its hope that India and the United States could find mutually acceptable ways
to apply this principle in developing the resources of the seabed and Antarctica,
consistent with India's commitment to the treaty in its present form and U.S.
policies favoring the involvement of private enterprise.
290 APPENDIX
The task force recognized that the roots of political instability and military
conflict often lie in economic factors that are largely beyond the control of lit-
toral and hinterland states. Pointing to the debt burden of many states in the
region, the danger of recession in the West and Japan, growing global protection-
ism, population pressures, and natural disasters such as the drought in Africa, the
group envisaged a regional environment marked by turbulent economic, political,
and social change. In such an environment, the task force concluded, the super-
powers should exercise great restraint to avoid embroilment in internecine con-
flicts that do not relate directly to their vital interests but could all too easily lead
to dangerous confrontations.
Recommendations
The task force warned that the risks of a Soviet-American confrontation in the
Indian Ocean region continue to be dangerous. The group concluded that the prin-
cipal security concerns of the littoral and hinterland states, the United States, and
the Soviet Union are rooted in a vicious circle of distrust and cannot be effec-
tively addressed in isolation from each other. Thus, the task force urged parallel
negotiating processes to reduce tensions in the region:
Iran and the Superpowers. Iran is a focal point of Soviet-American distrust.
The United States bases its Central Command force planning on the "worst case"
scenario of a Soviet seizure of the Abadan oil fields. The Soviet Union fears that
the United States may seek to make Iran once again a military ally. The United
States and the Soviet Union should continue to exercise the mutual restraint that
they have demonstrated in recent years in Iran and should make appropriate diplo-
matic efforts to reassure each other that neither will introduce combat forces or
mutually threatening bases or facilities there.
An Afghanistan Settlement. The growing tension on the Afghanistan-Pakistan
border makes a negotiated settlement of the Afghanistan conflict increasingly
urgent. The U.N. mediation effort has produced acceptance of the principle that a
Soviet combat force withdrawal within a defined time period and a cessation of
foreign support for Afghan resistance groups should be orchestrated in a coordi-
nated set of agreements. The United Nations should be fully supported by the
powers directly concerned and by littoral and hinterland states as it seeks to build
on the progress so far made.
A Zone of Peace and Neutrality. It is apparent that an enduring Afghan settle-
ment would require parallel Soviet-American dialogues relating to Pakistan as well
as to Iran. At this stage, it is difficult to envisage the emergence of a Zone of Peace
and Neutrality, as has been proposed, in which the military presence of the super-
powers would be excluded from Iran, Afghanistan, and Pakistan. Nevertheless, the
United States and the Soviet Union should begin to explore understandings con-
cerning the need for mutual restraint in all three of these countries. This region
adjoins three of the world's most populous nations, and many countries, including
the United States and India, have an interest in access to the adjacent oil-bearing
areas. The possible development of nuclear weapons by regional powers underlines
the importance of prudence and restraint by both superpowers in dealing with this
area.
Arms Control and the Indian Ocean. Changes in military technology, notably
Appendix 291
the advent of cruise missiles, anti-satellite weaponry, and space-based and operated
anti-missile systems, could make the Indian Ocean waterspread and the littoral and
hinterland states a theater of growing tension between the superpowers, marked by
an expanding competitive search for facilities in the region. The impact of these
changes cannot be meaningfully discussed in regional arms control negotiations
limited to the Indian Ocean, such as those on naval limitations conducted by
the United States and the Soviet Union in 1977-78. It would be desirable for the
superpowers to give attention in some form to issues of specific concern to the
Indian Ocean region as part of their global arms control dialogue. At the same
time, when and if it is appropriate in the global context, the superpowers should
resume a separate dialogue on regionally defined issues with an eye to the possi-
bility of a freeze and subsequent reductions of military deployments and facilities
in the region.
Soviet-American Trade-offs. Any regionally defined arms control negotiations
between the superpowers deemed to be appropriate in the global context should
proceed from a recognition that the environment for such negotiations has changed
since the 1977—78 dialogue. The United States perceives a Soviet security threat to
the region primarily centered in the land-based military potential of the Soviet
Union, the Soviet Union perceives a U.S. security threat primarily centered in
U.S. naval power, and regional powers perceive threats arising from both regional
and extra-regional sources. Thus, renewed negotiations could no longer be limited
to naval limitations alone but would have to reflect larger trade-offs. Among many
examples that could be cited, the United States perceives a potential threat from
Soviet strategic aircraft, or tactical aircraft posing an offensive threat to neighbor-
ing states, based in Afghanistan; the Soviet Union fears the deployment of dual-
capable aircraft based on U.S. carriers in the Arabian Sea, and various littoral
states voice concern that Diego Garcia might become a base for nuclear forces,
or that both superpowers might deploy cruise missiles with nuclear warheads in the
region. The problem of trade-offs is complicated by the fact that while both sides
feel that their vital interests are involved, the direct security of its national terri-
tory is involved in the perceptions of the Soviet Union.
The Security of Choke Points. The security of oil tanker traffic in the Indian
Ocean region is a common concern of the littoral and hinterland states and the
superpowers alike. To supplement the international recognition of this common
stake embodied in the Law of the Sea Treaty, the United States, the Soviet Union,
and other concerned countries, including India, should explore the possibility of
agreements ensuring unimpeded oil tanker traffic through the Strait of Hormuz
and other "choke points."
The task force recommends the following measures by the United States and
India to build mutual confidence and to promote closer relations:
Clarifying the U.S. Commitment to Pakistan. The United States should clarify,
and if necessary redefine, its obligations to Pakistan under the 1959 mutual security
agreement between the two countries to rule out U.S. involvement in any conflict
limited to Indian and Pakistani forces alone. In this connection, the United States
should make clear that the inclusion of Pakistan as one of the 19 countries covered
by the Central Command does not relate to contingencies involving Indian and
Pakistani forces alone. Similarly, the United States should make clear that the
mission of its carrier battle group in the northern Arabian Sea relates to perceived
security threats in the Gulf region and not to any conflict in South Asia limited to
India and Pakistan alone. There should be greater exchange of views and percep-
292 APPENDIX
tions at appropriate governmental levels to reassure India that U.S.-Pakistan secu-

rity relationships would not involve intelligence sharing adverse to Indian security
interests.
Indian Confidence-Building Initiatives. India should take steps to help remove
suspicions and misperceptions in the United States concerning the nature of its
military aid relationships with the Soviet Union, possible intelligence sharing, the
leakage of high technology, and policies governing ship visits by Soviet and U.S.
naval forces. As part of a broader increase in exchanges of military personnel
between the two countries, the Task Force recommends visits by members of the
U.S. Congress, journalists, and U.S. officials to all major Indian military and naval
establishments based on principles of reciprocity and due deference to considera-
tions of security.
Ocean Resource Development. India and the United States should give special
attention to cooperation in ocean resource development within the framework of
the new Indo-U.S. agreements governing high-technology imports. India's new
Department of Ocean Sciences could utilize expanded imports of American elec-
tronics equipment and computers needed for hydrospace data processing, and
efforts should be made to facilitate this form of technological cooperation. Where
feasible and available, the United States should share with India marine resource
and other Indian Ocean data relevant to India's exploitation of its 200-mile Exclu-
sive Economic Zone.
Asymmetry in Informational Exchange. There is great asymmetry between the
United States and India with respect to the availability of literature on each coun-
try's perceptions and policies relating to the other. While the entire range of U.S.
literature and official documentation relating to international relations is readily
available to Indians and is studied in India, Indian periodicals and books and
official pronouncements are not widely disseminated and studied in the United
States. This situation needs to be rectified and a much greater effort is called for
on both sides to improve mutual understanding, including more intensive informa-
tional exchange programs on the part of India.
Selig S. Harrison K. Subrahmanyam

Convenor, American Delegation Convenor, Indian Delegation
Walter K. Andersen Vice-Admiral (Ret.) M. P. Awati
Joel Larus V. S. Mani
George W. Shepherd, Jr. C. Raja Mohan
Gary Sick K. R. Singh
W. Howard Wriggins M. A. Vellodi
Index
Abdallah, Ahmed, 255-56 Western apprehension over, 52

Abu Dhabi Aircraft carriers, usefulness of, 85
continued British naval presence urged Akins, James E., 112
by, 15 Algiers summit, 230
oil production by, 218(tab.) Ali, Robbaya, 236
"Access agreements," confusion over Alvin (manned submersible), 171
meaning of, 93 Amanullah (ruler of Afghanistan), 273
Acquaculture, 170-71 Amerasinghe, H. S., 226
Aden, Soviet bases at, 4, 19, 234, 237, 282. American-Soviet rivalry. See Superpower
See also South Yemen rivalry
Amindivi Islands, 262 Amin, Hafizullah, 272, 273-74, 275
Afghanistan, 271-76 Andaman Islands, 45, 47-48, 103, 193,
arms exports to, 130(tab.) 262
military expenditures/GNP of, 65(tab.) Anderson, Ion, 272
in RDJTF purview, 30 Anderson, Walter K., 249
Task Force recommendation on, 290 Angola
U.S. arms/aid to, 76(tab.), 7S(tab), costly colonial war in, 243
81(tab.) Marxist regime in, 185
and U.S.-Soviet mutual restraint agree- Soviet intervention in, 88
ments, 278-79 and U.S. minerals supply, 191
Afghanistan, Soviet invasion of Antarctica, 134, 200-201
and Australian apprehensions, 48 global approach needed for, 204
causes of, 8-9, 235 and India, 200-202, 203
and costs of invasion, 242, 243 and ISA Enterprise regime, 147-48
and Indian naval power, 102 and LOSC regime, 159-60
and Indian Ocean states' view of natural resources in, 155
Soviets, 248 U.S. ocean policy on, 211 (tab.)
and IOZP conference, 260, 261 Antarctic Treaty (1959), 8, 153-57, 160,
Mauritius vote against, 262 201, 236
and Pakistan-India relation, 266, 267 cynicism occasioned by, 223
proposed discussion on, 234 and India, 103, 154, 157-59, 201-2
and RDF, 235 debated amendment of, 134
and SALT, 232 and U.S. policy, 235
and Southwest Asia as security con- and Zone of Peace, 224, 227
cern, 50 Anti-Ballistic Missile (ABM) Treaty, 4,
Soviet ambitions shown by, 13 223
and Soviet navy, 97 ANZUS, 48-50, 94, 229
Soviet withdrawal, 7, 13, 271, 276-78 Arab Gulf states. See also Persian Gulf
strategic implications of, 40 and Iran, 42
and U.S. in Indian Ocean, 28, 29, 30, and U.S., 35
31 Arabian Sea
and U.S. military sales to Pakistan, U.S. forces in, 7
246 and U.S. SLBMs, 16-17, 95, 282
293
294 Index
Arab-Israeli war (1973), 22, 39, 87 U.S. mineral reliance on, 191, 217(tab.)
logistics of U.S. support in, 90 U.S. mining/smelting investment in,
Soviet fleet movements in, 97 190, 216(tab.)
Argentina, and Antarctic Treaty, 154, 201 and Zone of Peace, 229
Arms control and limitation
cynicism over, 223 Baghdad Pact (1955), 20, 96-97
failure of as destabilizing, 4 Bahrain
and Seabed Arms Control Treaty, 95 arms imports to, 129(tab.)
Arms control and limitation, Indian Ocean. fishing fleet of, 222(tab.)
See also Indian Ocean Zone of Peace maritime claims of, 167(tab.)
Afghanistan withdrawal as opening to, military expenditures/GDP of, 65(tab.)
279, 280, 283 in RDJTF purview, 30
desirability of, 116-17, 118 as small and vulnerable, 242
and littoral states, 283 U.S. arms to, 19(tab.), 81(tab.)
1977-78 talks on (U.S.-Soviet), 52, U.S. in, 20, 34, 87, 93, 108, 281
117-18, 224, 231-32, 233, 281-82 Bandaranaike, Sirimavo, 225, 226, 230
prospects for, 235-44 Bangladesh
Task Force recommendation on, 290-91 arms imports to, 130(tab.)
trade-offs in, 282-83, 291 and China, 103-4, 109
and U.S. strategic needs, 236-37 fishing fleet of, 222(tab.)
and U.S. worldview, 236 and India, 261-62
Arms control treaties invaders of as liberators, 242
Antarctic Treaty, 153-57, 160, 201, 236. maritime boundary of, 167(tab.), 173,
See also Antarctic Treaty 197-98
Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty, 4, 223 military expenditures/GDP of, 65-66
Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty, 8, (tab.)
223, 228, 229, 240 naval forces and bases of, 126(tab.)
Outer Space Treaty, 223, 228, 236 U.S. arms/aid to, 76(tab.), 79(tab.),
Seabed Treaty, 95, 223, 225, 228, 235, 81(tab.)
236 and Zone of Peace, 260
Tlatelelco Treaty, 8, 223, 224-25, 227- Bangladesh conflict (1971), 97
28, 235, 236 Barre, Mohammed Siad, 19, 38, 236, 241
Arms exports, from U.S. to various "Bases," confusion over meaning of, 93
nations, 79-82(tab.) Beaufre, Andre, 24
Arms imports, into Indian Ocean area, Belgium
129-30(tab.) and Antarctic Treaty, 154, 201
ASEAN states, and Soviets, 47 LOSC rejected by, 199
Asia-Africa Legal Consultative Committee, and Persian Gulf operations, 37
139-40 Berenger, Paul, 256, 260, 263
Asian Collective Security scheme, 12 Berlouis, Ogilvy, 252
Australia, 48-50, 94, 110-11 Biological Convention, cynicism occa-
and Antarctic Treaty, 154, 201 sioned by, 223
arms imports to, 129(tab.) Blaker, James R., 30
arms limitation urged by, 259-60, 261 Boodhoo, Harish, 258, 263
bases in for arms-control talks, 281 Boolel, Sir Satcam, 263
and Britain, 108 Booth, Ken, 178
communications facility in (North West Botswana, 129(tab.), 242
Cape), 16, 49-50, 86, 94, 112 Brazil, and Antarctic Treaty, 201-2
countervailing power of, 116 Brezhnev, Leonid, 204, 233, 234
EEZ of, 193 Britain, 24, 36, 108
fishing fleet of, 222 (tab.) and Antarctic Treaty, 154, 201
and FPDA, 15 arms exports by, 129-30(tab.)
and Iran-Iraq war, 108 EEZ of, 193-94
maritime claims of, 167(tab.) and FPDA, 15
military expenditures/GDP of, 65(tab.) gunboat diplomacy by, 124(tab.), 131-
navy of, 41, 126(tab.), 127 (tab.) 32(tab.)
oil production by, 218(tab.) Indian aircraft carrier bought from,
strategic metals from, 189-90, 191, 44, 104
217 (tab.) and Indian navy, 101, 102
and U.S., 48, 49, 50 and Iran-Iraq war, 108
U.S. arms/aid to, 79(tab.), 81(tab.) LOSC rejected by, 199
Index 295
and Mauritius/Diego Garcia issue, gunboat diplomacy by, 124(tab.),
257-58 131-32(tab.)
naval deployment of, 125(tab.) and Indian Ocean, 103-4
rapid deployment force of, 36 Indian (Sino-Indian) war by, 20-21, 87
seabed mining legislation of, 152 influence of, 18
and Seychelles, 250 ISA claims of, 199
and U.S., 21, 85, 87-88 and Japanese military revival, 27
British Indian Ocean Territory (BIOT), maritime boundary disputes of, 197
15, 21, 85, 108, 194, 225 as metals producer, 193
British withdrawal from Indian Ocean, military expenditures/GNP of, 66(tab.)
15-16 missiles of in Indian Ocean, 237
and joint defense zone proposal, 87 navy of, 54—55
and Soviet naval expansion, 16, 85 offshore oil development of, 196-97
and "superpower rivalry," 52 and Pakistan, 46
and U.S. entry, 21, 23 and Paracel Islands, 173, 219(tab.)
Brown, Harold, 28-29, 89, 113, 232 and Soviets, 25, 26-27, 37, 97-98, 112
Brown, Lester, 170 U.S. arms exports to, 81(tab.)
Brunei and U.S.-Pakistani alignment, 266
military expenditures/GDP of, 66(tab.) U.S. sides with, 269
offshore oil production of, 195, 197, Chopra, K., 262
2lS(tab.) Christmas Islands, 50
U.S. arms/aid to, 79(tab.), 81(tab.) Churchill, R. R., 146
Brzezinski, Zbigniew, 231, 232-33, 235, Cocos Islands, 50
240, 279 Colby, William E., 17-18
Bull, Hedley, 176 Cold war. See Superpower rivalry
Burma Colombo summit, 230
and Andaman Sea, 262 Commission for the Conservation of
fishing fleet of, 222(tab.) Antarctic Marine Living Resources,
maritime boundary of, 167 (tab.), 197 156
military expenditures/GNP of, 66(tab.) Common-heritage-of-mankind concept,
U.S. arms/aid to, 76(tab.), 78(tab.), 135, 141-44, 160
79(tab.), 81(tab.) and Antarctica, 153, 156-57, 158, 159,
201, 202
and India, 157-58, 159
Cairo Non-Aligned Summit (1964), 224 and ISA, 146
Cam Ranh Bay, Soviet facilities in, 37, modifying of (RSR), 152-53
38, 39, 98 practical application of, 161
Canada, U.S. mining/smelting investment Comoros Islands, 108, 255-56
in, 190, 216(tab.) maritime claims of, 161(tab.)
Carrington, Lord, 108 as small and vulnerable, 242
Carter, Jimmy, and Carter Administration, "Concord Squadron," 87
28-29 Condominium, U.S.-Soviet, 280
and demilitarization of Indian Ocean, Containment doctrine, 111, 204
231 Convention on the Conservation of
neocontainment policy of, 236 Antarctic Marine Living Resources
and rapid deployment force, 89, 113 (1980), 156
Carter Doctrine, 28, 59n.45, 88 Cordovez, Diego, 277
CENTO, 20, 21, 87, 108 Cuban missile crisis, 114
Central Command, U.S. See U.S. Central Cuban troops
Command in Angola, 88
Chagos Archipelago, 21, 257. See also in Ethiopia, 19-20, 88, 232
Diego Garcia impact of, 114
Chari, R. R., 42
Chavan, Y. B., 23 Dahlak Island, Soviet facilities at, 4, 20,
Chile, 154, 187, 201 38-39, 98, 234, 237, 282
China, People's Republic of, 25-26, 109 Daud, Mohammed, 272, 278
and Antarctic Treaty, 159, 202 Daud, Sardar, 236
and anti-Soviet axis, 54 Deep Seabed Hard Mineral Resource Act
arms imports to, 129(tab.) (1980), U.S., 152
"equidistance" of, 59n.35 Deng Ziaoping, 25
fishing fleet of, 222(tab.) Deniscourt, David, 251
296 Index
Denuclearized zones, 224. See also Indian navy of, 43
Ocean Zone of Peace in RDJTF purview, 30
Detente. See also Arms control and and Soviet Union, 240
limitation and U.S., 32, 33-34
and Peace Zone proposal, 230-31 U.S. arms/aid to, 32, 76(tab.),
Soviet goal in, 232 79(tab.), 81 (tab.)
U.S. view on, 232-33 Eisenhower, Dwight, and Eisenhower
Deterrence, and U.S. SLBMs, 86, 95. Administration
See also SLBMs, U.S. and Antarctica, 154
Developing countries. See Third World and U.S. weapons to Pakistan, 266
Dharan, U.S. force at, 20 Eisenhower Doctrine, 59-60n.45, 269
Diego Garcia, 4, 15, 21, 22-23, 29, 34, Energy consumption, world, 2\2(tab.)
90-92, 247 Enterprise, the, in ISA provisions, 144-46
and arms limitation, 117, 236, 237, 282 and Antarctica, 159
Australia's air force uses, 94 and India, 148, 150-51
and Britain, 108 and Third World needs, 162
debate over, 102 and U.S. rejection of LOSC, 147-48,
as deterrent, 116 152
in The Fourth Round, 246 Enterprise incident (1971), 19, 23, 39,
GEODSS in, 236 44, 51, 55, 102, 247
and India, 23, 259, 270 Eswaran, V. V., 148, 151
initial rationale for, 22, 52-53, 91 Ethiopia
and Mauritius, 43, 256-59, 260 arms imports to, 129(tab.)
mines weeping forces from, 36 fishing fleet of, 222(tab.)
Non-Aligned Summit on, 258 gunboat diplomacy against, 131(tab.)
and rapid deployment force, 29, 32, maritime claims of, 167(tab.)
33, 88, 90 military expenditures/GNP of, 67(tab.)
and Seychelles, 252, 259 navy of, 43
and Soviet buildup in Berbera, 112 in RDJTF purview, 30
Soviet reconnaissance of, 248 Somali opportunism against, 241
U.S.-British agreement on, 16 and Soviet Union, 19-20, 37, 38-39,
work to be done on, 96 88, 97, 98, 99, 113, 231, 233, 236
and Zone of Peace, 225, 236 and superpower intervention, 238
Diego Suarez, 16, 253. See also U.S. station in, 91
Madagascar U.S. arms/aid to, 77(tab.), 78(tab.),
Divided Zone, oil production by, 218(tab.) 80(tab.), 82(tab.)
Djibouti Exclusive economic zone (EEZ), 135-36,
French access to, 16 173, 193-94
gunboat diplomacy against, 131(tab.) and Antarctica, 154
military expenditures/GNP of, 66- and developing nations' arms needs, 230
67 (tab.) disagreements in determination of, 141,
navy of, 43 173, 174
in RDJTF purview, 30 fishing expansion from, 136-40, 162,
as small and vulnerable, 242 200
U.S. arms/aid to, 7 7 ( t a b . ) , 78(tab.), around French possessions, 24
82(tab.) of India, 45, 136, 141, 193
Dolinchek, Martin, 252 maritime claims on, 167(tab.)
Douhet, Giulio, 176 oil and gas exploration in, 140-41
Dubai, oil production by, 218(tab.) renting out of, 174
Dulles, John Foster, 5, 111, 204
Duval, Gaetan, 258 "Facilities," confusion over meaning of,
93
Falklands campaign, and amphibious
EEZ. See Exclusive economic zone capability, 107
Egypt Ferrari, Maxinie, 259
arms imports to, 129(tab.) Fischer, David, 252
Chinese naval aid to, 109 Fishing
fishing fleet of, 222(tab.) in Antarctica, 155
as labor exporter, 184 and EEZ, 136-40
maritime claims of, 167(tab.) U.S. ocean policy on, 211 (tab.)
military expenditures/GNP of, 67(tab.) as world food source, 170
Index 297
Fishing fleets Guillaume, Gilbert, 159
in Antarctica, 155 "Gunboat diplomacy," 14, 84, 114,
catches of by areas of world, 221 (tab.) 124(tab.), 131-32(tab.), 177
of India, 137-139, 200, 222(tab.)
and Indian Ocean nations, 161-62, 200, Hanks, Robert J., 37, 255
222(tab.) Hawke, Robert, 94
of Japan, 137, 155-56 Hayden, Bill, 49, 50, 259
of Soviet Union, 97, 137, 155-56 High-sea mining. See Seabed mining
Five Power Defence Agreement (FPDA), Hinton, Deanne, 266
15, 48 "Host-nation support," confusion over
Food production, from oceans, 170-71 meaning of, 93
Ford, Gerald, and Ford Administration, Houdoul, Jacques, 252
22, 23 Hunter, Robert E., 35
Foreign policy, naval forces in support of, Hussein, Saddam, 241
113. See also "Gunboat diplomacy" Hyland, William, 236
Forward defense or deployment, 40, 96
and Australia, 48
danger from, 114-15 India, 101-7, 202, 261-62
Soviet, 16 and Antarctica, 103, 154, 157-59, 200-
and U.S.-Soviet arms control talks, 202, 203
Fourth Round, The, 246 arms exports to, 130(tab.)
FPDA (Five Power Defence Agreement), China (Sino-Indian) war of, 20-21,
15, 48 87
France, 24-25, 36-37, 107-8 control position of, 135
and Antarctic Treaty, 154, 201 countervailing power of, 116
arms exports by, 129-30(tab.) and Diego Garcia, 23, 259, 270
and British withdrawal, 15-16 economic development of, 202-4, 271
and Comoros, 255 EEZ of, 45, 136, 141, 193
countervailing power of, 116 fishing industry of, 137-39, 200,
EEZ of, 194 222(tab.)
gunboat diplomacy by, 124(tab.), 131- and The Fourth Round, 246
32(tab.) gunboat diplomacy against, 131(tab.)
ISA claims of, 199 and Indonesia, 47
and Madagascar, 254 and Kenya, 264
naval deployment of, 108, 125(tab.) and LOSC, 9-10, 148, 150-51, 198, 199,
rapid reaction force of, 36 244
and Reunion, 25, 107, 264-65 and Maldives, 262
seabed mining legislation of, 152 maritime boundary of, 167(tab.), 173,
and Tromelin EEZ, 141 197-98
French Territory of the Afars and Issas, and Mauritius, 203, 257, 262-63, 264,
maritime claims of, 167(tab.) 270
military expenditures/GNP (GDP) of,
Gandhi, Indira, 23, 158, 201, 225, 259, 263 67 (tab.)
Gandhi, Ravij, 158 and naval power, 42, 203
Gas naval presence of, 262, 265
EEQ development of, 140-41 navy of, 5-6, 41, 44-46, 55, 126(tab.),
Indian production of, 195-96 127(tab.), 104-5
Gayan, Anil, 257 and nuclear non-proliferation, 8, 228-29
Geostrategic doctrine and nuclear weapons on naval vessels,
of Mackinder, 111, 176 94
of Mahan, 175, 242, 243 offshore oil production and develop-
Gorbachev, Mikhail, 12, 13, 41, 204, 276 ment by, 141, 195-96, 218(tab.)
Gorshkov, Sergei, 16, 18, 19, 114, 175, and Pakistan, 103, 104, 261-62, 266-68
176 seabed mining by, 102-3, 148-51,
Great Britain. See Britain 198-99
Grenada invasion, and Seychelles, 252 and Seychelles, 203, 204, 262, 263-64
Grojean, Charles D., 22 and Soviet Union, 6, 19, 20, 23, 38, 45,
Gromyko, Andrei, 17, 18, 233 51, 52, 54, 98, 104-5, 234-35, 265,
Groundbased Electro-Optical Deep Space 269, 270
Surveillance (GEODSS) system, 236 and superpowers, 52, 269
Guam, 34, 97 and technological transfer, 151
298 Index
India (Cont.) maritime boundary of, 167(tab.), 197

and U.S., 20-21, 56, 94-95, 105, 182, military expenditures/GDP of, 67-
203, 204, 243, 265-66, 270 68(tab.)
U.S. arms/aid to, 76(tab.), 78(tab.), navy of, 47-48, 126(tab.), 127(tab.)
79(tab.), 81(tab.), 105 nickel from, 189, 190
and U.S.-Pakistan relation, 6-7, 54, offshore oil production of, 141, 195,
103, 104, 246-47, 266, 267-68, 269- 197, 218(tab.)
71, 283 and Soviets, 20, 47
and Zone of Peace, 223-24, 226, 228- and U.S., 23
29, 234 U.S. arms/aid to, 76(tab.), 78(tab.),
Indian Ocean 81(tab.)
bathythermal conditions of, 17 Indo-Pakistan war. See India-Pakistan
economic diversity around, 133-34 war
and Law of the Sea Convention, 134 Indo-Sri Lankan accord, 55
maritime traffic in, 177 Industrialization, and developing nations,
and superpower strategy, 111-12 161
Indian Ocean arms control talks, U.S.- International Monetary Fund, 254-55, 257
Soviet (1977-78), 52, 117-18, 224, International Seabed Authority (ISA),
231-32, 281-82 144-47, 171, 172-73
and SLBM non-deployment, 17 mine-site regulations of, 198
Soviet objective in, 282 and U.S. legislation, 152
U.S. intention in, 233 Intra-regional disputes, 41-42
Indian Ocean Zone of Peace (IOZP), 7-8, and arms control, 229-30
55-56, 106, 223-24 and manipulation of superpowers, 241
criticisms of, 226-29, 230 over oil development (South China
and detente, 230-31 Sea), 196, 197
and India, 23, 42, 226, 228-29, 234 and RDF, 90
littoral states' view of, 55-56, 259-261 as Soviet opportunity, 12
origin of concept of, 224-25 and superpower intervention, 42, 53, 84,
perceptions underlying, 226 115, 238, 241-44, 247
as pre-introduction of arms, 228, 236 and U.S. oil security, 182
proposed additions to, 229-30 IOZP. See Indian Ocean Zone of Peace
and Soviet Union, 56, 226-27, 233- Iran, 110
235, 261 air force of, 44
stabilization as alternative to, 7, 248, Americans in (1977), 96
259 arms imports to, 129(tab.)
Task Force recommendation on, 290 countervailing power of, 116
and U.S., 39-40, 235, 260-61 fishing fleet of, 222(tab.)
India-Pakistan war (1971), 19 gunboat diplomacy against, 132(tab.)
concentration-of-force principle in, 106 and Maldives, 262
and Indian navy, 44, 102 maritime claims of, 167(tab.)
Pakistan mine-laying in, 103 military expenditures/GDP of, 68(tab.)
and Pakistan navy, 46 as military-sales lesson, 115
and U.S. military program, 20 navy of, 44, 55
and U.S. task force, 39, 87. See also oil from, 214(tab.), 218(tab.)
Enterprise incident in RDJTF purview, 30
India-Sri Lanka accord, 55 reducing of threats from, 31
Indo-American Task Force on the Indian revolution and fall of Shah in, 13, 88,
Ocean, 280 89, 114
conclusions and recommendations of, ships attacked by, 83(tab.)
287-92 Soviet-American agreements on, 7
Indonesia, 110-11 and Soviets, 35, 38, 86
and Andaman Sea, 262 and Turkey's safety, 34
arms imports to, 129(tab.) and U.S., 20, 21, 32, 35, 40, 86, 87,
arms limitation urged by, 259, 260 238
assertiveness of, 47 U.S. arms/aid to, 76(tab.), 78(tab),
coastal defenses of, 46 79(lab.), 81(tab.)
countervailing power of, 116 U.S.-Soviet restraint agreement over,
EEZ of, 141, 193 278-79
fishing fleet of, 222(tab.) Iran hostage crisis, 29
and Japan, 27 and rapidity of U.S. vs. Soviet fleets, 39
Index 299
and Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, 9 Johnson, Lyndon B., carrier force sent by,
and U.S. naval presence, 88 21
Iran-Iraq war, 12. See also Persian Gulf Joint Rapid Deployment Task Force. See
conclusions from, 238-39 Rapid Deployment Task Force
as danger to sea lanes, 14 Jordan
and France, 108 arms imports to, 129(tab.)
and Iranian oil sale need, 53-54 Israel as viewed by, 241
and Kuwait, 44 as labor exporter, 184
and manipulation of superpowers, 241 maritime claims of, 167(tab.)
and oil supplies, 182 military expenditures/GNP of, 69(tab.)
and outside military forces, 14 in RDJTF purview, 30
and Soviets, 41 U.S. arms/aid to, 16(tab.), 78(tab.),
"tanker war" in, 14, 25, 28, 34-35, 38, 79(tab.), 81(tab.)
83 (tab.) Jugnauth, Aneerood, 256, 259, 262, 263
and U.S., 12, 13-14, 31, 88, 111, 242 Jukes, Geoffrey, 19
Iraq
arms imports to, 129(tab.)
fishing fleet of, 222(tab.) Keating, Robert, 255
maritime claims of, 167(tab.) Kemp, Geoffrey, 175, 178
military expenditures/GNP of, 68(tab.) Kenya
navy of, 44 arms imports to, 129(tab.)
oil exports of, 214(tab.) fishing fleet of, 222(tab.)
in RDJTF purview, 30 and India, 264
ships attacked by, 83(tab.) maritime claims of, 167(tab.)
and Soviet Union, 19, 20, 99, 236 military expenditures/GDP of, 69(tab.)
Stark struck by, 35 in RDJTF purview, 30
U.S. arms/aid to, 76(tab.), 78(tab.), and superpower intervention, 238
79(tab.), 81(tab.) and U.S., 29, 33, 34, 93
and U.S. warships, 94 U.S. arms/aid to, 77(tab.), 80(tab.),
ISA. See International Seabed Authority 82(tab.)
Israel U.S. bases in, 4, 92, 96
arms imports to, 129(tab.) Kerguelen, 24
as controlling, 241 Khan, Rahmatullah, 138, 139
and costs of invasion, 242 Khomeini, Ruhollah, 279
fishing fleet of, 222(tab.) Khrushchev, Nikita, 47
maritime claims of, 167(tab.) Kingston, Robert C., 31, 32, 90
military expenditures/GNP of, 68- Kohlschutter, Andreas, 273
69(tab.) Korea (South)
and Suez Canal closing, 227 fishing industry of, 200
and U.S., 28 migration to Gulf from, 184
U.S. arms/aid to, 79(tab.), 81(tab.) military expenditures/GNP of, 69-
and Zone of Peace, 229 70(tab.)
Italy U.S. arms/aid to, 76(tab.), 78(tab.),
LOSC rejected by, 199 79(tab.), 81(tab.)
and Persian Gulf operations, 37 Kosygin, Aleksey, 231
Kuala Lumpur declaration (1971), 226
Japan, 27, 109 Kuwait
and Antarctic Treaty, 154, 201 arms imports to, 129(tab.)
arms imports to, 129(tab.) British in, 108
in ceramics research, 188 fishing fleet of, 222(tab.)
fishing fleets of, 137, 155-56 gunboat diplomacy against, 131 (tab.)
U.S. mining/smelting investments in, and Iran-Iraq war, 44
216(tab.) maritime claims of, 167(tab.)
and Indian Ocean trade, 177 military expenditures/GDP of, 70(tab.)
and Indian shrimp, 138 oil exports of, 214(tab.)
ISA claims of, 199 in RDJTF purview, 30
military expenditures/GNP of, 69(tab.) as small and vulnerable, 242
oil imports of, 180, 213 (tab.) and Soviets, 42, 53
seabed mining legislation of, 152 U.S. arms/aid to, 79(tab.), 81(tab.)
U.S. arms/aid to, 76(tab.), 78(tab.), U.S. protects tankers of, 12, 34-35, 42,
79(tab.), 81(tab.) 53, 56, 182
300 Index
Laccadive Islands, 45, 262 Lowe, A. V., 146
Lakshadweep Territory, 262 Lusaka Non-Aligned Summit, 23, 225
Lall, Arthur, 153-54, 157 Luttwak, Edward, 113
Lange, David, 49
La Reunion. Sec Reunion Mackinder, Sir Halford, 111, 176
Law of the Sea Convention (LOSC), 9- McNamara, Robert, 89, 114
10, 134 Madagascar, 253-55
and Antarctica, 154, 159-60 and Comoros, 255-56
as collective-approach model, 244 EEZ of, 193
and common-heritage-of-mankind con- fishing fleet of, 222(tab.)
cept, 141-44, 146 maritime claims of, 167(tab.)
conflicts between members and non- military expenditures/GDP of, 70(tab.)
members of, 10, 174, 199 and Soviet Union, 253-54, 255, 260
and EEZ, 136 and Tromelin EEZ, 141
and importance of maritime power, 102 U.S. arms/aid to, 77(tab.), 80(tab.),
and India, 9-10, 148, 150-51, 198, 199, 82(tab.),254
244 U.S. relations with, 253
and Nixon plan, 9, 142-43, 153 Zone of Peace urged by, 260
parallel system of, 145-46 Mahan, Alfred Thayer, 175-76, 242, 243
Part 11 regime in, 144-47, 148, 150, Malagasy, arms imports to, 129(tab.)
152-53, 157, 171. See also Enterprise, Malahoff, Alexander, 171-72
the; International Seabed Authority Malawi, arms imports to, 129(tab.)
and RSR regime, 152-53 Malaysia
superpower disagreement lacking on, and Andaman Sea, 262
240 Antarctica proposal by, 202
U.S. rejection of, 147-48, 174, 199, 204 arms imports to, 129(tab.)
and U.S. seapower, 177, 199 arms limitation urged by, 259, 260
Lebanon and Britain, 108
arms imports to, 129(tab.) coastal defenses of, 46
and costs of invasion, 242, 243 fishing fleet of, 222(tab.)
U.S. arms/aid to, 76(tab.), 78 (tab.), and FPDA, 15
79(tab.), 81(tab.) maritime claims of, 167(tab.)
and U.S. intervention, 238 military expenditures/GNP of, 70(tab.)
Less developed countries. See Third World naval forces and bases of, 126(tab.),
L'Estrac, Jean de, 263 128(tab.)
Liberty, attack on, 114 offshore oil production of, 195, 197,
Libya, navy of, 43 2l8(tab.)
Limited wars, and superpower interven- U.S. arms/aid to, 76(tab.), 79(tab.),
tion, 114 81 (tab.)
Linkage thesis, 231, 233 Maldives
Littoral states, See also specific states and China, 109
and Antarctica, 134 EEZ of, 136, 141, 193
arms control for, 229-30 fishing fleet of, 222(tab.)
and China, 18 India aims to neutralize, 262
fishing industry development for, 161- maritime boundary of, 167(tab.), 197
62 as small and vulnerable, 242
and LOSC, 134 and Soviets, 98, 262
navies of, 14, 41-50, 51, 127-28(tab.) U.S. military aid to, 76(tab.)
need for cooperation among, 51 Mali, arms imports to, 129(tab.)
oil-economy decline in, 184-85 Mancham, lames, 250, 252
political polarization of, 14 Manganese nodules, 171, 172, 198,
and Soviet Union, 12-13, 18, 96-97, 210(tab.), 220(tab.)
112 Mariculture, 170-71
superpower rivalry as viewed by, 248, Maritime claims, 167(tab.), 197-98
249, 259, 282, 283 Maritime power, 102. See also Seapower
U.S. military presence desired by, 238 Massoud, Ahmad Shah, 272
U.S./Soviet intervention in, 53 Mauritius, 43, 256-59
and Western economic interests, 193 and Australia, 50
and Zone of Peace proposal, 55-56, EEZ of, 136, 193
259-61 fishing fleet of, 222(tab.)
Local disputes. See Intra-regional disputes and India, 203, 262-63, 264, 270
Index 301
maritime claims of, 167(tab.) National liberation struggles

as small and vulnerable, 242 Soviet aid to, 234
and Tromelin EEZ, 141 and Soviet deployment, 18, 114
U.S. arms exports to, 82(tab.) Soviet vs. U.S. attitudes toward, 240
on U.S. and Zone of Peace, 261 NATO allies
Zone of Peace urged by, 259 and Persian Gulf operations, 37
Mayotte, 16, 255 and U.S. overflights, 22, 29
and EEZ, 194 Naval Arms Limitation Talks (1977-78).
French at, 25, 108 See Indian Ocean arms control talks,
Metallic sulfides, 171-72 U.S.-Soviet
Metals. See also Minerals; Ocean re- Naval diplomacy. See also "Gunboat
sources; Seabed mining diplomacy"
declining importance of, 186, 188-89 and Enterprise incident, 55
declining market for, 187-89 limited utility of, 53-54
production of, 215(tab.) by Soviets, 24, 37
Michel, James, 252 Naval power. See Seapower
Middle East. See Persian Gulf; Southwest Nehru, Pandit, 266
Asia; specific countries Nepal
MIDLINK maneuvers, 87-88, 108 arms exports to, 130(tab.)
Military assistance, by U.S. to various military expenditures/GNP of, 71(tab.)
nations, 76-78(tab.) U.S. arms/air to, 76(tab.), 78(tab.),
Military expenditures, of various nations, 79(tab.), 82(tab.)
65-75(tab.) Netherlands
Military sales, by U.S. to various nations, LOSC rejected by, 199
79-82(tab.) and Persian Gulf operations, 37
Minerals. See also Metals; Ocean re- seabed-mining vessels from, 149
sources; Oil; Seabed mining New International Economic Order
and Antarctica, 156 (NIEO), 144, 147, 176
extraction of through water-plants, 172 New Zealand, 48-50, 111
in Indian Ocean traffic, 178 and Antarctic Treaty, 154, 201
markets for, 204 anti-nuclear policy of, 49, 94
from ocean, 172, 210(tab.) and Britain, 108
"resource war" over, 185, 189 and FPDA, 15
under Third World control, 176 military expenditures/GDP of, 71(tab.)
Minerals, strategic U.S. arms/aid to, 79(tab.), 81(tab.)
mythology of, 10-11, 185-93, 239 U.S. mining/smelting investment in,
production of, 215(tab.) 190, 216(tab.)
U.S. reliance on foreign nations for, "Nibbling" tactics
190-91, 217(tab.) of French enemies, 24
Minicoy Islands, 262 of Soviets, 20
Modernization, and developing nations, Nicobar Islands, 45, 103, 193
161 Niger, arms imports to, 129(tab.)
Mondale, Walter, 231-32 Nigeria, arms imports to, 129(tab.)
Moon Treaty, and ISA Enterprise regime, 1977-78 arms control talks. See Indian
147-48 Ocean arms control talks, U.S.-Soviet
Moore, John Norton, 174 Nixon Administration
Moorer, Thomas H., 23, 91, 92 and Enterprise to Bay of Bengal, 247
Mozambique and Law of the Sea, 9, 142-43, 153
arms imports to, 129(tab.) Nixon Doctrine, 13, 21, 22, 28, 32, 52, 85,
costly colonial wars in, 243 91
fishing fleet of, 222(tab.) Nodule mining. See Seabed mining
maritime claims of, 167(tab.) Non-aligned nations summit, Cairo
Marxist regimes in, 185 (1964), 224
military expenditures/GNP of, 70- Non-aligned nations summit, New Delhi
71 (tab.) (1983), 156-57, 258
and Soviets, 20, 98, 99 Non-Proliferation Treaty. See Nuclear
U.S. arms exports to, 82(tab.) Non-Proliferation Treaty
Multinational oil companies, 174 North Yemen. See also Yemen
arms imports to, 129(tab.)
Naipaul, Shiva, 250 gunboat diplomacy against, 132(tab.)
Namboodiri, P. K.S., 262 as labor exporter, 184
302 Index
North Yemen (Cont.) and U.S., 53, 87, 88
maritime claims of, 167(tab.) and Zone of Peace, 227, 230
military expenditures/GNP of, 75(tab.) Oil crisis (1979), 179
in RDJTF purview, 30 Oil routes. See also Trade routes
Norway, and Antarctic Treaty, 154, 201 and Diego Garcia, 116
Nuclear arms control. See Arms control Soviet interdiction of, 18
and limitation Task Force recommendation on, 291
Nuclear deterrent, and U.S. SLBMs, 86, Oman
95. See also SLBMs, U.S. arms imports to, 129(tab.)
Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty, 8, 228 British in, 108
cynicism occasioned by, 223 fishing fleet of, 222(tab.)
and India, 8, 229 maritime claims of, 167(tab.)
superpower agreement on, 240 military expenditures/GNP of, 71 (tab.)
Nuclear proliferation, spatial, and Zone navy of, 43-44
of Peace, 8, 228 in RDJTF purview, 30
Nuclear submarines, U.S., 5, 281. See also as small and vulnerable, 242
SLBMs; SSBNs and Soviets, 280
Nuclear weapons and superpower intervention, 238
and Indian navy, 265 and U.S., 4, 29, 32, 33, 35, 93, 96
in India-Pakistan conflict, 46 U.S. arms/aid to, 76(tab.), 79(tab.),
uneasiness over, 248 82(tab.)
and Zone of Peace proposal, 56 OPEC, 179-82, 189, 213(tab.)
Nuclear weapons on board naval vessels Osgood, Robert, 173
and India, 94-95 Outer Space Treaty (1963), 223, 236
and New Zealand/U.S., 49, 94 cynicism occasioned by, 223
and 1977-78 arms talks, 281 and Zone of Peace, 228
and Seychelles, 43
Pakistan, 6, 110
Oceanography, and U.S. military, 95 Afghan aid through, 276
Ocean resources, 169-72, 210(tab.). See arms exports to, 130(tab.)
also Fishing; Oil, offshore production and China, 46, 103-4, 109
of; Seabed mining fishing fleet of, 222(tab.)
conflicts over, 173-74, 185, 196, 197, in The Fourth Round, 246
199, 200 and India, 54, 103, 104, 261-62, 266-
new regime for (ISA), 172-73 68. See also India-Pakistan war
Task Force recommendation on, 292 and Indonesia, 47
and Third World exploitation, 174 and Indo-U.S. relations, 265-66, 269-71
Oil. See also Persian Gulf and Maldives, 262
access to, as threatened, 12, 28, 53-54, maritime boundary of, 167(tab.), 173,
97-98, 178, 182-83, 184, 239 197-98
in Antarctica, 155 military expenditures/GDP of, 71-
drop in market for, 179-81, 184 72(tab.)
and economic condition, 133, 140 naval forces and bases of, 46, 126(tab.),
EEZ development of, 140-41 128(tab.)
French exploration for (Kerguelen), 24 as naval threat to India, 103-4, 106
in Indian Ocean traffic, 178 in RDJTF purview, 30, 247
Indian production of, 141, 195-96, Soviet-American agreements on, 7
218(tab.) and Soviets, 20, 38, 103, 279
offshore production of, 194—98, and U.S., 6-7, 20, 54, 56, 87-88, 103,
218(tab.) 104, 266, 268-69, 269-70, 279, 283
Persian Gulf export of, 213 (tab.), U.S. arms/aid to, 76(tab.), 78(tab.),
214(tab.) 80(tab.), 82(tab.), 104, 245-46
Third World control over, 176 U.S.-Soviet restraint agreement over,
U.S. ocean policy on, 211 (tab.) 278-79
and U.S. presence or power projection, and Zone of Peace, 229, 260
28, 35, 50, 56, 181-83 Paracel Islands, 173, 219(tab.)
world production of, 213(tab.) Paradise Raped: Life, Love and Power in
worldwide ownership and sales of, the Seychelles (Mancham), 250
212(tab.) Pardo, Avid, 141, 142
Oil crisis (1973-74), 10, 22, 179 Part 11 of LOSC. See Enterprise, the
as demonstration effect, 239 Pauker, Guy, 23
Index 303
Peace Zone, Indian Ocean. See Indian as small and vulnerable, 242
Ocean Zone of Peace U.S. arms to, 80(tab.), 82(tab.)
"Peace zone" idea
alternatives to, 117 Rabbani, Burhanuddin, 272
Zumwalt on, 118 Rabetsitonta, Tovananahary, 254
Perez de Cuellar, Javier, 17 Rajaonson, Guy, 260, 264
Persian Gulf, 12. See also Iran-Iraq war; Ramgoolam, Seewoosagur, 256, 257, 258
Oil; Oil crisis Rao, Narasimha, 267
cold war in, 111 Rapid deployment forces
economic diversity in region of, 133 of Britain, 36, 108
negotiations proposed for, 204 of France, 36
oil-economy decline in, 184-85, 204 of Persian Gulf states, 36
oil exports from, 213(tab.) 214(tab.) Rapid Deployment Joint Task Force
oil production by, 213(tab.) (RDJTF or RDF), 8-9, 29-33, 84,
rapid deployment forces of states in, 36 88-90, 96, 114, 235
and Soviet withdrawal from Afghanis- Carter on, 113
tan, 278 and regional anxieties, 248
superpowers see threats in, 247 and seapower, 177
tanker-security negotiations proposed support facilities for, 4
for, 234 Ratsimandrava, Richard, 254
threats to U.S. in, 31, 178 Ratsiraka, Didier, 253-55, 256
U.S. in, 28-29, 35, 41, 52, 96, 183-84 RDJTF. See Rapid Deployment Joint
U.S. discusses intervention in (1973- Force
74), 53 Reagan, Ronald, and Reagan
U.S.-India shared interests in, 56 Administration
and U.S. oil needs, 179, 180-81, 182 and Afghanistan negotiations, 276
and U.S. Rapid Deployment Force, 29- and aid to India, 270
33, 89. See also Rapid Deployment and aid to Pakistan, 269, 270
Joint Task Force and Carter Doctrine, 28
and Western intervention by force, LOSC rejected by, 147, 199
53-54 and Madagascar, 254
Philippines, 12, 34 new anti-Soviet strategy of, 183
migration to Gulf from, 184 and strategic minerals, 187, 189
military expenditures/GDP of, 72(tab.) Reciprocating States Regime (RSR), 152,
naval power of, 46 153
offshore oil production of, 197 Red Sea
strategic metals from, 189, 190 mining of, 227, 242
U.S. arms/aid to, 7 6 ( t a b . ) , 78(tab.), and Rapid Deployment Force, 30.
79(tab.), 81(tab.) See also Rapid Deployment Joint
U.S. bases in, 47, 92, 94, 257 Task Force
Pioneer Investor(s), ISA, 199, 22\(tab.) superpowers see threats in, 247
India as, 150, 198, 221(tab.) Regional disputes. See Intra-regional
Pipes, Daniel, 183 disputes
Placer deposits, 172, 210(tab.) Rene, France Albert, 250-53, 256, 259, 263
Polymetallic (sulfide) nodules, 171-72 "Resource war," 185, 189
and India, 198-99 Reunion, La, 16
Power, maritime, 102. See also Seapower and EEZ, 194
Pranger, Robert J., 22 French at, 25, 107, 264-65
Presidential Directive 18, 89, 235 and India, 264-65
PRM-10, 89 U.S. arms exports to, 82(tab.)
"Pushtunistan," 276 Richardson, Elliott, 204
Ringadoo, Veeraswamy, 263
Qatar Rodrigo, Nihal, 260
arms imports to, 129(tab.) Rogers, Bernard, 89
British in, 108
fishing fleet of, 222(tab.) Sadat, Anwar, 236
maritime claims of, 167(tab.) SALT agreement
military expenditures/GDP of, 72(tab.) cynicism occasioned by, 223
oil exports of, 2l4(tab.) and Indian Ocean talks, 232
oil production by, 218(tab.) and linkage, 231
in RDJTF purview, 30 lost opportunity in, 237
304 Index
Sathe, Ram, 267 as-Shaabi, Quhtan, 19

Saudi Arabia, 110 Shahi, Agha, 280
Americans in, 96 Sharjah, oil production by, 218(tab.)
arms imports to, 129(tab.) Shultz, George, 49, 233
AWACs to, 28 Sick, Gary, 20
British in, 108 Sinclair, Ian, 48
economic motivation in oil policies of, Sinemale, Georges, 264
179 Singapore
facilities built by, 34 arms imports to, 129(tab.)
fishing fleet of, 222(tab.) and Britain, 108
Israel as viewed by, 241 coastal defenses of, 46
maritime claims of, 167(tab.) fishing fleet of, 222(tab.)
military expenditures/GDP of, and FPDA, 15
12(tab.) maritime claims of, 167(tab.)
naval forces and bases of, 43, 126(tab.), military expenditures/GNP of, 73,(tab.)
128(tab.) as small and vulnerable, 242
oil exports of, 214(tab.) U.S. arms/aid to, 76(tab.), 79(tab.),
oil production by, 218(tab.) 81(tab.)
in RDJTF purview, 30 Singh, Prem, 262-63
and Somalia, 112-13 Sino-lndian war (1962), 20-21, 87
Soviet/U.S. stance of, 20 Sisco, Joseph, 22
and "tanker war," 35 SLBMs
U.S. arms/aid to, 21, 32, 76(tab.), Chinese, 25
78(tab.), 80(tab.), 82(tab.), 115 and Japan, 27
and U.S. policy, 96, 182 SLBMs, U.S., 13, 16-17, 56, 86, 95, 97
Seabed Arms Control Treaty (1971), 95, and Australian communications center,
225, 236 50, 86
cynicism occasioned by, 223 and Soviet ASW capability, 113
and U.S. policy, 235 and U.S.-Soviet arms talks, 281, 282
and Zone of Peace, 228 Socotra, Soviet bases at, 4
Seabed mining, 9-10 Somalia
and common-heritage-of-mankind con- arms imports to, 129(tab.)
cept, 141-44, 146 vs. Ethiopia, 241
and conclusions for developing nations, fishing fleet of, 222(tab.)
160-62 gunboat diplomacy against, 131 (tab.)
global approach needed for, 204 maritime claims of, 167(tab.)
and India, 102-3, 148-51, 198-99 military expenditures/GNP of, 73(tab.)
and ISA, 144-47, 171 navy of, 43
and polymetallic nodules, 171, 198-99 in RDJTF purview, 30
U.S. ocean policy on, 211(tab.) and Soviets, 19, 20, 38, 92, 98, 112, 115,
Sea-launched ballistic missiles. See SLBMs 240
Sea-launched cruise missiles, 4 and superpower intervention, 238
Seapower, 175 and U.S., 4, 29, 33, 34, 93-94, 96
limitations of, 242 U.S. arms/aid to, 77(tab.), 80(tab.),
and U.S., 175-79, 211(tab.) 82(tab.)
Sea routes, Soviets' reliance on, 112. See South Africa, 110
also Oil routes; Trade routes and Antarctic treaty, 154, 158-59, 201
SEATO, 97 arms imports to, 129(tab.)
Seaweed, cultivating of, 170, 171 and Britain, 108
Seychelles, 15, 43, 249-53 countervailing power of, 116
arms control urged by, 259 EEZ of, 193
coup attempt in, 252 fishing fleet of, 222(tab.)
EEZ of, 136, 193 gunboat diplomacy against, 132(tab.)
fishing in, 137 and manipulation of superpowers, 241
and India, 203, 204, 262, 263-64 maritime claims of, 167(tab.)
maritime claims of, 167(tab.) military expenditures/GNP of, 73(tab.)
military expenditures/GNP of, 73(tab.) navy of, 41, 42-43, 126(tab.), l28(tab.)
as small and vulnerable, 242 strategic metals from, 190
and Soviet Union, 252-53, 260 U.S. arms/aid to, 80(tab.), 82(tab.)
U.S. arms exports to, 82(tab.) U.S. mineral reliance on, 191, 217(tab.),
U.S. facilities on, 251, 252-53 192
Index 305
U.S. mining/smelting investment in, vulnerable position of, 112
190, 216(tab.) and Zone of Peace, 56, 226-27, 233-35,
South China Sea 261
maritime disputes in, 197, 204 Soviet Union, Indian Ocean presence of,
occupied islands in, 219(tab.) 98-100
offshore oil development in, 196 and ASW, 17, 19, 25, 37, 38, 52, 86,
South East Asian Plan for the Zone of 100, 113, 1237
Peace, Freedom and Neutrality, 225 and British withdrawal, 16, 85
South Korea. See Korea deployment levels of, 4, 22, 26-27, 37-
Southwest Asia. See also Persian Gulf; 38, 99, 64(tab.), 124-25 (tab.)
specific countries Indian Ocean as defensive field for, 112
and Japanese military revival, 27 infrastructure support for, 8
and RDF, 90 and land forces, 39-40, 50
and Soviet withdrawal from Afghan- and Persian Gulf, 35, 42, 97-98
istan, 278 and rapid deployment force(s) of
U.S. focus on, 89 West, 36, 84, 88, 90, 235
South Yemen. See also Yemen reasons for, 5, 15, 16-18, 19, 24, 37,
arms imports to, 129(tab.) 51-52, 96-97, 249
coup in, 236 and seapower, 175
as labor exporter, 184 and Seychelles base, 253
maritime claims of, 167(tab.) and Soviet shipbuilding, 100
military expenditures/GNP of, 75(tab.) as threat to oil supplies, 178, 183
navy of, 43-44 as threat to sea communications, 178
in RDJTF purview, 30 and U.S. presence, 4-5, 13, 16-18, 32,
and Soviet Union, 19, 20, 37, 38, 98 39, 85, 87, 113, 116, 183
and superpower intervention, 238 weaknesses in, 23-24, 100-101
and U.S., 33, 94 Soviet Union, and other nations
Soviet Union, 14, 16-20, 37-41. See also China, 25, 26-27, 37, 97-98, 112
at Superpower Comoros, 256
and Antarctic Treaty, 154, 201 Egypt, 240
and arms control, 237 Ethiopia, 19-20, 37, 38-39, 88, 97, 98,
arms exports by, 129-30(tab.) 99, 113, 231, 233, 236
in arms-limitation talks with U.S. India, 6, 19, 20, 23, 38, 45, 51, 52, 54,
(1977-78), 52, 117-18, 224, 232-32, 98, 104-5, 234-35, 265, 269, 270
233, 281-82 Indonesia, 20, 47
Asian Collective Security scheme of, 12 Iran, 35, 38, 86
vs. Australia/New Zealand/U.S., 111 Iran-Pakistan, 278-79
and cold war in Indian Ocean/Persian Iraq, 19, 20, 99, 236
Gulf, 111-13 Japan, 27
condominium proposal by, 280 Kuwait, 42, 53
fishing fleets of, 97, 137, 155-56 Libya, 43
gunboat diplomacy by, 124(tab.), 131- Madagascar, 253-54, 255, 260
32(tab.) Maldives, 98, 262
Indian Ocean fishing fleets of, 97 Mauritius, 256
instability as opportunity for, 12, 239, Mozambique, 20, 98, 99
240 Oman, 280
ISA claims of, 199 Pakistan, 20, 38, 103, 279
and littoral states, 12-13, 18, 96-97, 112 Saudi Arabia, 20
as manager of change, 235 Seychelles, 251-53, 260
military interests of in Indian Ocean, Somalia, 19, 20, 38, 92, 98, 112, 115,
96-98 240
"nibbling tactics" of, 20 South Yemen, 19, 20, 38
nuclear-free zone proposed by, 224 and U.S., 183-84, 204, 232-33, 239-40.
and regional cooperation, 51 See also United States
"resource war" by, 185, 189 United Arab Emirates, 280
and "superpower rivalry," 51, 52-53, Vietnam, 39, 98, 197
234 Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. See
and "tanker war," 34, 41 Afghanistan, Soviet invasion of
and Third World (developing nations), Spiers, Ronald I., 21-22
88, 97, 234, 235, 240 Sri Lanka
and U.S. in Indian Ocean, 32 arms exports to, 13Q(tab.)
306 Index
Sri Lanka (Cont.) and bases on Seychelles, 249-53, 256

and China, 103-4, 109 as competition for developing nations'
EEZ of, 141, 193 favor, 240
fishing fleet of, 222(tab.) as description resented by Soviets, 234
and India, 55, 204, 261-62 and Indian diplomatic strategy, 106
maritime boundary of, 167(tab.), 197 littoral states' view of, 248, 249, 259,
military expenditures/GNP of, 73- 282, 283
74(tab.) as manipulation by developing nations,
on U.S. and Zone of Peace, 261 241
U.S. arms/air to, 76(tab.), 78(tab.), military-political distinction artificial
8 0 ( t a b . ) , S2(tab.) in, 249
and Zone of Peace, 225-26, 229, 260 regional tensions aggravated by, 247
SSBNs and Soviet seapower threat, 176
Chinese, 25-26 and Soviets vs. U.S. as managers of
and Japan, 27 change vs. order, 235
U.S., 16, 18 Third World view of, 177
Stark incident, 182 U.S. sees international system as, 233,
Strategic Defense Initiative, 4 236
Submarine-launched ballistic missiles. and U.S. self-fulfilling prophecies,
See SLBMs 112-13
Sudan U.S. as setting pace in, 111
air defenses of, 43 and Zone of Peace, 225
arms imports to, 129(tab.) Syria
and Bright Star-82 exercise, 32 as labor exporter, 184
as labor exporter, 184 military expenditures/GNP of, 74(tab.)
maritime claims of, 167(tab.) U.S. arms/aid to, 77(tab.), 80(tab.),
in RDJTF purview, 30 S2(tab.)
and Soviet Union, 240
Suez Canal, closing of, 227
Suez crisis (1956), 85 Taiwan
Sukarno, 47 fishing industry of, 200
Superpower(s) military expenditures/GNP of, 74(tab.)
as arms suppliers, 41 U.S. arms/aid to, 76(tab.), 78(tab.),
and Indian navy, 6 79(tab.), 81(tab.)
Superpower confrontation "Tanker war," Iran-Iraq, 14, 25, 28, 34-
and local disputes, 84, 114-15 35, 38, 83 (tab.)
and new U.S. strategy, 183-84, 204 Tanzania
over oil resources, 178 arms imports to, 129(tab.)
over strategic minerals, 185 Chinese naval aid to, 109
sources of danger of, 3-4, 98 maritime claims of, \67(tab.)
U.S. sees regional issues as, 204-5 military expenditures/GNP of, 74(tab.)
value of Soviet Indian Ocean fleet in, and Seychelles, 251
99-100 U.S. arms exports to, 82(tab.)
Superpower cooperation, in Middle East, Technological transfer
183 and developing states, 161
Superpower intervention, 113—14 and Indian seabed mining, 151
and Carter on RDF, 113 in ISA provisions, 145-46
and developing nations' arms needs, 230 Terrorism, maritime, 174
and regional disputes, 42, 53, 84, 115, Thailand
238, 241-44, 247 and Andaman Sea, 262
and U.S. protection of resources, 178-79 arms imports to, 129(tab.)
Superpower rivalry, 51, 52-53. See also EEZ determination by, 141
Soviet Union, Indian Ocean presence fishing fleet of, 222(tab.)
of; United States, Indian Ocean maritime boundary of, 167(tab.), 197
presence of; U.S.-Soviet military military expenditures/GNP of, 75(tab.)
relation naval forces and bases of, 126(tab.),
and Antarctica, 153-54 128(tab.)
and arms limitation, 117, 280, 283 offshore oil development of, 197
and bases in Comoros/Mayotte, 255 U.S. arms/aid to, 76(tab.), 78(tab.),
and bases in Madagascar, 253-55, 256 79(tab.), 81(tab.)
and bases on/near Mauritius, 256-59 Third World (developing countries). See
Index 307
also Intra-regional disputes; specific and Britain, 108

countries maritime claims of, 161(tab.)
and Antarctica, 158, 160, 201, 202 military expenditures/GNP of, 75(tab.)
and common-heritage-of-mankind oil exports of, 214(tab.)
concept, 143, 144, 160-62 in RDJTF purview, 30
and copper price decline, 187 and Saudi AWACS, 35
decline of mining in, 190 as small and vulnerable, 242
and EEZ, 136, 174 and Soviets, 280
European history comparisons with, 229, U.S. arms/aid to, 80(tab.), 82(tab.)
241 and U.S. naval exercises, 87
France challenged by, 24 United Kingdom. See Britain
and India, 150 United Nations
and ISA Enterprise, 147 and Antarctica, 134, 153-54, 159
modernization considerations for, and denuclearization, 224
161-62 and security of small states, 243
and oil, 140, 169, 184 sovereign states as members of, 162
and RDF, 89, 114 and Zone of Peace, 7, 223, 225, 226.
"resource war" by, 185, 189 See also Indian Ocean Zone of Peace
and RSR regime, 152, 153 United Nations Ad Hoc Committee on the
and seabed mining earnings, 9 Indian Ocean, 117, 260-61, 283
self-reliance valued by, 240 United Nations Declaration on the Grant-
and Soviet Union, 88, 97, 234, 235, 240 ing of Independence to Colonial Peo-
and strategic metals, 189 ples, 257
superpowers manipulated by, 241 United Nations Declaration on the Indian
and technological transfer, 161 Ocean, 261
U.S. dependent on resources of, 176-77 United States, 20-24. See also at Super-
U.S. mining/smelting investment in, power
190, 2l6(tab.) and Antarctic Treaty, 154, 159, 201
U.S. policy toward upheavals in, 178 arms exports by, 79-82(tab.), 115-16,
U.S. as seen by, 177, 240 129-130(tab.)
and U.S. vs. Soviets, 52, 88, 233 in arms-limitation talks with Soviets
and U.S. threats of force, 182 (1977-78), 52, 117-18, 224, 231-32,
and Western economic system, 116 233, 281-82
and West German seabed-mining legis- arrangements with other nations by
lation, 152 (secrecy over), 93-94
Tilton, John, 189-90 bipolar world view of, 233, 236, 239-40
Tlatelelco Treaty, 8, 224-25, 227-28, 236 Carter Doctrine of, 28, 59n.45, 88
cynicism occasioned by, 223 and cold war in Indian Ocean/Persian
and U.S. policy, 235 Gulf, 111-13
Toynbee, Arnold, on fishing, 170 and common-heritage-of-mankind con-
Trade routes. See also Oil routes cept, 142-43, 153
through Indian Ocean, 177-78 and detente, 232-33
protection of as extension of war, 239 economic concerns of in Indian Ocean,
U.S. ocean policy on, 211 (tab.) 135, 168
and Western security, 178 economic dependence as security threat
and Zone of Peace, 227 for, 182, 204
Trident D-5 nuclear missile submarines, 5 Eisenhower Doctrine of, 59-60n.45, 269
Tripartite Agreement, 141 foreign mining and smelting investment
Tromelin, EEZ quarrel over, 141 of, 190, 216(tab.)
Turkey, U.S. basing agreement with, 34 and Gulf negotiation proposals, 204
200-mile economic zone. See Exclusive gunboat diplomacy by, 124(tab.), 131-
economic zone 32(tab.). See also "Gunboat diplo-
macy"
UAE. See United Arab Emirates Indian Ocean in strateey of, 95-96, 116
Uganda and Indian Ocean trade, 177
arms imports to, 129(tab.) and Indian shrimp, 138
gunboat diplomacy against, 131(tab.) and Iran-Iraq war, 108
invaders of as liberators, 242 and Law of the Sea, 9, 10, 142-43, 147-
U.N. See United Nations 48, 153, 174, 177, 199, 204
United Arab Emirates (UAE) as manager of order, 235
arms imports to, 129(tab.) metals dependence of, 185-86, 217(tab.)
308 Index
United States (Cont.) India-Pakistan, 54, 103, 265, 266, 267,
military assistance by, 76-78(tab.) 268-71
military interests of in Indian Ocean, Indonesia, 23
85-86 Iran, 20, 21, 32, 35, 40, 86, 87, 238,
Nixon Doctrine of, 13, 21, 22, 28, 32, 278-79
52, 85, 91 Iran-Pakistan, 278-79
oil imports of, 180, 213 (tab.) Iraq, 35, 94
and Persian Gulf, 12, 52, 179, 182, 183- Kenya, 4, 29, 33, 34, 92, 93, 96
84. See also Persian Gulf Kuwait, 30, 34-35, 42, 53, 56
and regional cooperation, 51 Madagascar, 253-55
seapower of, 175-79, 211(tab.) Mauritius, 256-59, 261
self-fulfilling prophecies of, 112-13 Oman, 29, 33, 93, 96
and strategic minerals, 10-11 Pakistan, 6-7, 20, 54, 56, 87-88, 103,
and "superpower rivalry," 51, 52-53 104, 266, 268-71, 279, 283
supremacy of, 50 Philippines, 47, 92, 94, 257
and "tanker war," 34-36 Saudi Arabia, 21, 32, 115, 182
and Third World, 52, 88, 176-77, 178, Seychelles, 250, 251, 252-53
190, 233, 240 Somalia, 4, 29, 33, 34, 93-94, 96
trip-wire strategy of, 40, 86 South Africa, 190, 191, 192
and Zone of Peace, 260-61 South Yemen, 33, 94
United States, Indian Ocean presence of, Soviet Union, 183-84, 204, 232-33,
20, 87-95 239-40. See also Soviet Union
as arms-control obstacle, 236-37 Sri Lanka, 261
deployment levels of, 3-4, 22, 29, U.S. Central Command (USCENTCOM),
64(tab.), 124(tab.) 30-33, 36, 39, 88-90, 235, 238
and Diego Garcia, 21, 22-23, 34, 88, B-52s in, 92
91-92, 247. See also Diego Garcia expense of, 280-81
Indian Ocean as offensive field for, 112 in Oman, 93
Indian reaction to, 247 and Pakistan, 104
Iran-Iraq war as reason for, 12 and seapower, 177
Japanese capability increases, 27 Soviet reaction to, 237, 248
littoral states' desire for, 238 support facilities for, 4
local alliances as reason for, 10, 182-83 and Zone of Peace, 236
nuclear deterrence as reason for, 86, 95 U.S.-Pakistan security agreement (1959),
and Rapid Deployment Force, 88-90. 7, 269
See also Rapid Deployment Joint U.S.-Soviet military relation. See also So-
Task Force viet Union, Indian Ocean presence of;
regional anxieties over, 248, 282 Superpower rivalry; United States,
regional resources (oil) as reason for, Indian Ocean presence of
10, 12, 15, 21, 27-28, 178, 182, 184 and arms-control trade-offs, 282
SLBMs in, 16-17, 86, 95, 97. See also as asymmetric, 8, 39, 56, 235, 259
SLBMs, U.S. as cycle of challenge and response,
and Soviet presence, 13, 39, 40-41, 116 247-48
Soviets as reason for, 4-5, 21-22, 23- and future Soviet buildup, 235, 237-38,
24, 27, 39, 85, 87, 95, 111-13, 178, 281
183-84, 204, 235-36
strategic bombers in, 86, 92
United States, and other nations. See also Van Hollan, Christopher, 280
under individual nations Vance, Cyrus, 231, 232, 279
Afghanistan, 276-77, 278 Vietnam
Australia, 48, 49, 50, 81(tab.), 191, arms imports to, 128(tab.)
216(tab.), 217(tab.) and costs of invasion, 242, 243
Bahrain, 20, 34, 87, 93, 108 maritime boundary disputes of, 173,
Britain, 21, 85, 87-88 197
China, 81(tab.), 269 offshore oil development of, 197
Comoros, 255-56 Soviets in, 39, 98, 197
Egypt, 32, 33-34 Vietnam War
France, 25 and Persian Gulf intervention (1973-
India, 6-7, 20-21, 56, 94-95, 105, 203, 74), 53
204, 243, 265-66, 268-71 and U.S. interest in Indian Ocean, 85
Index 309
Walters, Vernon, 253 Yemen, North. See North Yemen
Warnke, Paul, 231 Yemen, South. See South Yemen
Watt, James, 189 Young, P. Lewis, 173-74
Weinberger, Caspar, 5, 33, 35, 111, 183,
236-37 Zahir Shah, 272, 277
West Germany, 109 Zaire
and Antarctic Treaty, 201 and U.S. cobalt, 191-92
arms exports by, 129-30(tab.) Western intervention in, 186
Indian research vessel from, 199 Zambia
LOSC rejected by, 199 arms imports to, 129(tab.)
and Persian Gulf operations, 37 IBRD loan to, 187
and seabed mining, 149, 152 and U.S. cobalt, 191-92
Weston, Rae, 190 Zia Ul-Haq, 268, 276, 280
Wilson, Harold, 15 Zimbabwe
World Bank arms imports to, 129(tab.)
and Madagascar, 254 costly colonial war in, 243
and Mauritius, 257 and U.S. chromium, 192
Zone of Peace conference, as arms control
Yemen forum, 283
fishing fleet of, 222(tab.) Zone of Peace, Indian Ocean. See Indian
U.S. arms/aid to, 77(tab.), 80(tab.), Ocean Zone of Peace
82(tab.) Zumwalt, Elmo, 95, 118, 176

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Superpower Rivalry

New York Oxford

Copyright © 1989 by Oxford University Press, Inc.

Published by Oxford University Press, Inc.,

Against a background of continuing Soviet-American rivalry in the Indian

2. Emerging Security Issues in the Indian Ocean:

3. Emerging Economic Issues in the Indian Ocean:

4. Emerging Economic Issues in the Indian Ocean:

5. Arms Limitation in the Indian Ocean: Retrospect

6. India, the United States, and Superpower Rivalry

Appendix: Conclusion and Recommendations of the

WALTER K. ANDERSEN prepared his contribution while on leave from his

Fears of a global nuclear war often obscure recognition of the dangerous

of punitive, anti-American moves in the Indian Ocean designed to limit the

someday expect to realize—cost free—material benefits from the authority's

dent on the non-petroleum mineral resources of the Indian Ocean/Persian

Origins of External Interest in the Indian Ocean

The British Withdraw

The Superpowers Enter: The Soviet Union

The Superpowers Enter: The United States

visage an immediate threat of this nature, however" (emphasis added).18

Admiral Thomas H. Moorer, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff,

Developing Interests of Other Powers

incrementally increase the level of violence employed to convince an aggressor

Southwest Asia and American Strategy in

Congressional testimony suggests that USCENTCOM's geographic area of

1 Surface Action Group

General Robert C. Kingston, then commanding general of USCENTCOM,

Other Rapid Deployment Forces

Missions of the Soviet Navy in the Indian Ocean

sisting of storage buildings, a floating drydock, floating piers, and navigational

deliberations-—that is, U.S. interests would be adversely affected unless the

Expansion of Littoral Navies

South Yemen's Soviet-supplied navy, which includes a Ropucha-class LST,

embarked on a steady program of expansion. In 1969, the navy ranked third

is the PRC. Effective Chinese naval intervention on Pakistan's behalf is at

once did. Still another reason seems to be the lingering ASEAN/Vietnamese

development of military facilities on the Andaman Islands. Considering the

The United States in 1979 established continuous supremacy in the Indian

a presidential judgment, including presumably a consideration of the War Powers

U.S. Central Command Headquarters (augmented)

86. Defense Monitor, op. cit., p. 5.

116. Keith Jacobs, "Pakistan's Navy," Naval Institute Proceedings, March

TABLE 1.1. Naval Deployment in the Indian Ocean

United States Soviet Union

Totals may not add due to rounding.

* Less than $500.

FY 1980 FY 1981 FY 1982 FY 1983 FY 1984 FY 1985 FY 1986 FY 1987 FY 1950-87

FY 1980 FY 1981 FY 1982 FY 1983 Fy 1984 FY 1985 FY 1986 FY 1987 Fy 1950-87

* less than $500.

FY 1980 FY 1981 FY 1982 FY 1983 FY 1984 FY 1985 FY 1986 FY 1987 FY 1950-87

FY 1980 FY 1981 FY 1982 FY 1983 FY 1984 FY 1985 FY 1986 FY 1987 FY 1950-87

* less than $500.

Source: Washington Post, October 3, 1987.

The emergence of an unrestrained superpower military competition in the

The United States

establishment of the North West Cape facility in Australia for submarine

MISSION AND PROJECT:

As early as 1968, the U.S. Chief of Naval Operations, Admiral Thomas

to have a permanent presence in the Gulf backed by access to facilities in