On 5 January, a day after Indian security forces had killed six militants who attacked the Pathankot Air Force Station, Defence Minister Manohar Parrikar held a press conference at the base. In the course of it, Parrikar blamed “bad luck” for some of the deaths of Indian personnel during the attack.
It was a surprising statement, since, in many ways, the security forces had been fortunate in this instance. Before they entered the base, the militants abducted and then released the Punjab Police officer Salwinder Singh and his companions, leading to a security alert. Reacting to intelligence, the government deployed India’s premier counter-terrorist force, the National Security Guard, or the NSG, to the airbase on the night of 1 January.
After four attackers were killed in initial fighting, claims that the operation had been concluded spread through television and social media. But, subsequently, two more attackers were discovered, leading to further fighting, in which they were killed. Among the seven security personnel who died in the attacks was Lieutenant Colonel Niranjan Kumar, of the NSG’s bomb disposal squad, who was killed when a grenade on a slain attacker’s body exploded. It emerged later that the NSG didn’t kill a single attacker in the entire operation—all six were eliminated by personnel from other forces who were present.
Over the next few days, several commentators, particularly army veterans such as the lieutenant generals HS Panag and PC Katoch, argued that the NSG hadn’t been the right choice for the operation. They said that the force specialised in urban counter-terrorism and hostage rescue, whereas the Pathankot operation entailed defending the wide expanse of a military base in terrain that featured fields, forests and water bodies. In response, the government asserted that the NSG’s expertise in hostage situations could have proved crucial, since the base housed residential quarters where hundreds of airmen and their families, all potential hostages, stayed.
Amid the din of these arguments, a crucial fact was never discussed: the NSG’s poor showing in the Pathankot operations exposes basic flaws in its conception, charter and functioning. Apparently, there are even differing opinions on its mandate. Contrary to the veterans’ comments about its special mission areas, the NSG’s own website describes it as a force whose responsibility is “to tackle all facets of terrorism in the country. Thus, the primary role of this force is to combat terrorism in whatever form it may assume.” Rather than diagnose and resolve the NSG’s problems, a series of questionable decisions by successive governments has only deepened them.
The NSG was founded in the aftermath of 1984’s Operation Blue Star, the Indian Army’s disastrous operation against Sikh militants led by Jarnail Singh Bhindranwale. The group had set up base in the Golden Temple in Amritsar. The army used heavy and indiscriminate firepower in an urban area, leading to nearly 500 civilian casualties. The operation seriously damaged the temple complex, which sparked public anger and further inflamed militancy in the state. In Blue Star, the Indian government used a sledgehammer where the precision of a scalpel was needed.
The idea for a special force trained to carry out counter-terror operations wasn’t new. Western countries had either set up or tasked such units in the 1970s, among them the German GSG-9 and the British SAS. The NSG’s website describes the organisation as being “modelled on the pattern of the SAS of the UK and GSG-9 of Germany.”
The force came to prominence with its impressive performance in 1988’s Operation Black Thunder II, again aimed at clearing the Golden Temple of militants, admittedly a less aggressive group than Bhindranwale’s followers in 1984. The NSG participated in a textbook operation, notably using snipers to kill some militants, which created enormous psychological pressure on the others. No civilians were killed, and the temple complex sustained minimal structural damage. The operation’s outcome led many to believe that the Indian government had succeeded in creating a counterpart to the SAS and GSG-9.
But, in fact, this was only superficially true. The flaws in the NSG’s foundation would plague it in the years to come, and continue to do so today. Chief among these is the fact that the organisation is made up of two different streams of personnel. Originally, the NSG comprised around 1,000 “operators,” as commandos are often called. A core cadre of between 200 and 300 personnel was drawn from the Special Group—a secretive elite unit that works under the intelligence agency the Research and Analysis Wing, but is manned and led by the army. The rest came from other army units. The government decided to supplement these operators with a support force drawn from the Central Armed Police Forces, which fall under the home ministry and include organisations such as the Border Security Force and the Central Reserve Police Force. This auxiliary group was to serve two functions. First, it would provide perimeter security—that is, cordon off areas where operations were underway; second, it would protect VIPs.
Managing two streams of personnel as one organisation, when they come from two different professional cultures, have different levels of proficiency, and different missions, can be a formidable task. An army officer formerly with the NSG, who was responsible for training the CAPF personnel, told me that he found them to be significantly inferior to their army counterparts in physical fitness, and in skills such as marksmanship.
The NSG’s global counterparts are homogenous in their composition. The British SAS, an army-only unit, works with local police for perimeter security during operations—a logical choice, since the police are typically the first to respond to an attack. The SAS rarely takes on VIP protection assignments. Similarly, the German GSG-9, the French GIGN, and the United States’ HRT, all have local police or special law enforcement agencies provide perimeter security, without complicating their own structure.
In its leadership structure, too, the NSG deviated from an established model. Although it depends heavily on army personnel for its core mission, it has, since its inception, been led by an officer of the Indian Police Service. In contrast, the Assam Rifles—the country’s only other Central Armed Police Force that has army officers—has always been led by a lieutenant general from the army.
Even the major generals of the army who have headed the training and operations wings of the NSG over the years have not been ideal for the job, since they were not officers who rose through the ranks of the NSG. In other elite forces in the world, the norm has been to promote top operators to senior roles. A prominent example is Denis Favier of the French GIGN. As a major in the organisation, Favier led a famous, bloody and successful assault in 1994 against hijackers of an Air France flight at Marseille, during which he was wounded; he later rose to head the GIGN as a general.
In 1985, the NSG’s sanctioned strength was increased to 5,000. But instead of improving its core capabilities, its leaders increasingly expended resources and manpower on VIP protection. Since these were limited, this adversely affected the availability and quality of equipment, and the quality of training, which, in turn, weakened key capabilities.
One such capability was night-fighting, essential for any organisation involved in modern warfare. The NSG’s vulnerability in this regard was clear from Brigadier Raj Seethapathy’s description to Rediff, in 2002, of the last hours of an NSG operation he had led against militants in the Akshardham temple in Gandhinagar, Gujarat. Seethapathy said, “It was pitch dark in the rear part of the temple. So, it was very difficult. We wanted to wait for the daybreak.” In effect, he confirmed to the entire world, including potential attackers, that the night-fighting prowess of India’s premier counter-terrorism force was limited. Indeed, both the NSG operators killed at Akshardham were night-time casualties.
This flaw was highlighted again in 2008, when gunmen stormed multiple locations in Mumbai and the NSG was flown in to combat the attackers. The team at Nariman House, in south Mumbai, did not have any night-vision gear, since the devices had been diverted to their colleagues fighting at the Taj and Oberoi hotels. At around 10 pm on 27 November, Indian intelligence officials listened in real time as Sajid Mir, one of the masterminds and handlers of the attack, directed a militant at Nariman House to execute hostages. Without night-fighting capabilities, the NSG was unable to storm the building and mount a rescue.
This lacuna persists even today. In a press conference midway through the Pathankot attack, an air marshal involved in the operations said that they had “slowed down” at sunset. It is probable that the two attackers who were discovered later knew of the NSG’s limited night-fighting ability, and chose to slip away into the dark, only to resume battle the next day.
With weak political and organisational leadership, major changes made to the NSG have been poorly conceived, though they have been presented as improvements. After the attacks on Mumbai, the government took up the problem of ensuring that commandos could swiftly reach the scene of any attack in the country. Internationally, the solution has been to equip special forces with their own air assets. The British SAS has specially trained and equipped pilots and helicopters at its disposal, and its personnel train extensively with these helicopters. In the United States, the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s HRT has its own helicopter unit. The Indian government, however, decided that rather than enable the NSG to fly out from its headquarters in Manesar, near Delhi, it would expand the organisation further. Thus, five new hubs were set up across the country—in Kolkata, Hyderabad, Ahmedabad, Chennai and Mumbai. An already bloated force of around 10,000 was made even bigger, with the addition of between 200 and 400 operators per hub.
The government found itself unable to maintain these new hubs, or provide them with even the most basic facilities. In mid 2011, 10 percent of the forces in the Mumbai hub were struck with water-borne illnesses owing to drinking water contamination at their base. The next year, the base had to be evacuated after its buildings developed cracks. None of the hubs have a satisfactory firing range, and operators shuttle between police ranges, which do not meet the standards required for advanced training. Further, since these hubs lack their own air assets, the NSG would still take significant time to reach several cities in India in case they are attacked.
The haphazard expansion even took a toll on the resources of the force’s headquarters. A memo leaked in 2013 revealed that the operators in Manesar had not trained with helicopters for six months. The bomb disposal squad was not equipped with special robots that should have been standard for their hazardous work. Addressing this shortfall could perhaps have saved the life of Lieutenant Colonel Niranjan Kumar at Pathankot.
In the world of elite forces, less is more. The SAS, GSG-9, GIGN all number between 200 and 400 operators and operate from centralised locations, unless on operations. India’s large size is no justification for a bloated force. The geographically larger United States has a federal counter-terrorist force—the FBI HRT and the geographically dispersed FBI SWAT teams—comprising a total of 1,200 personnel. In contrast, the NSG’s current strength is around 12,000. The government must recognise that the only practical way to man, train and equip elite forces such as the NSG to the exceptionally high standard that is required of them is to keep them small.