How to quell terrorists

Disclaimer: Vincent does not know how to quell terrorists, religious or Communist, and has no opinion on any methods for doing so, past, present or future. My title is deliberately provocative and refers to methods used in 1954 in Malaya. 

When Burr Deming, in “Fair and Unbalanced” (see Pingback at bottom of comments below), says “Vincent knows how to fight terrorists”, I assume he too is being deliberately provocative. I hope so.

When I was impressed by my ex-Army school housemaster, it was not for his exploits in that theatre of war (which he never mentioned) but for personal qualities. I could well imagine that such a gentle soul was profoundly traumatized by the experience, and glad to put it behind him.

I never met General Templer, but when I was 17, I knew Major Cook, one of the officers who’d fought under him in Malaya. He was my housemaster, in charge of the junior boarders at Swainston House, while I was a scholarship boy, paying for my keep by helping with their extra-curricular activities. I knew him as someone who commanded total respect, while being one of the gentlest persons I’ve ever met. The piece below makes it pretty clear why he never wanted to talk about his days in Malaya.

As another personal connection, I worked in Malaysia in the early Eighties, with periodic return trips thereafter, two of my children being half-Malaysian. This enables me to reflect on the success of transition from colony to Commonwealth. Wise decisions were taken after the fighting ended to ensure multi-ethnic co-existence and stable political development. It’s always been tricky but was set in the right direction to be one of the most stable nations in South-East Asia.

The bloody purge of communists was just part of that process; one that took much longer to resolve than the article below might suggest.  Even in 1981, when I first went, the threat remained. One day I was driving through jungle near the border between Malaysian Sabah and Indonesian Kalimantan, on the island of Borneo. I’d borrowed a car from my client Lembaga Letrik Sabah (previously Sabah Electricity Board). A police detachment stopped me to see what I had in the boot. I hadn’t a key to open it, which was a little awkward, as they wanted to know if I was smuggling weapons, the penalty for which was death. “IC [identity card]?” “Er, no.” “Passport?” “Didn’t bring it along.” Fortunately, my white skin and obvious Britishness saved the day, & I was waved on; for I was of the tribe which had saved theirs from insurgents.

Here’s the article, from Time magazine, June 7th 1954.

SOUTHEAST ASIA:   Success of a Mission

For an instant the stern face softened, the tight lips relaxed. Then the stiff-backed British general. regaining his composure, turned on his polished heel and marched towards his airliner at Kuala Lumpur in western Malaya. General Sir Gerald Templer, 55, the man who saved Malaya from the Communists, was on his way home, a job well done. Before him now lies Britain’s top field command: commander in chief of the Army of the Rhine. A lean, austere martinet who characterises himself as “a professional soldier . . . no politician,” Templer had expected no fond farewells in Malaya. Yet all the way to the airport from his gubernatorial mansion, his Rolls-Royce had been mobbed by cheering, affectionate Asians: Malays, Chinese and Indians. From the turbaned representatives of nine Malayan potentates, Templer got a silver cigar box. On his wrist he wore a bamboo bracelet, given by the aborigines of far-off Negri Sembilan, to ward off evil spirits. Parading before him were Chinese schoolchildren, waving banners.

Sir Gerald and Lady Templer were visibly moved. “We are desperately sad about leaving,” said Sir Gerald to a newsman. Templer raised his hand and waved to the crowd, ducked into the plane and was gone.

The Bayonet Fighter

When Templer arrived in Malaya in February of 1952, the country, like Indo-China some 200 miles to the north, was in mortal danger of being captured by Communist guerrillas. A quarter of a million troops and police were combing the jungles for a few thousand Communists. The guerrillas held the initiative, murdering and plundering at will. Templer’s orders were 1) to smash the Communists, 2) to weld Malayans—Malays, Chinese. Indians and British alike—into a sturdy, self-governing democracy within the Commonwealth. Objective No. 2 was impossible in a scant two years, yet Templer pledged himself, “mind and body,” to fight for this political, economic and social “second front.” He brought to his job demoniac energy, a streak of ruthlessness, a flair for jungle fighting (he once was bayonet-fighting champion of the British army) and a sensibility that dumbfounded those leftist British critics who had objected to his appointment out of fear that he might prove too tough. “Templer found Malaya toppling,” said the London Daily Telegraph last week. “He left it firm. That is the measure of his achievement.”

The Hard Way

Templer’s technique of fighting the guerrillas closely paralleled that of Asia’s only other successful Communist-killer, Philippine President Magsaysay. Both men combined ruthless military pressure with an all-out effort to get the majority of the people on their side. Templer’s first necessity was more information. He got it the hard way by ordering the jungle villagers, on whom the Communists preyed for food, to cooperate or be punished. Templer made an example of the village of Tanjong Malim. In an effort to uncover the names of a gang of terrorists who had slain a dozen British soldiers in the neighborhood, he decreed collective punishment (a 22-hour curfew and reduced rice rations) until the villagers talked. Back in Britain there were howls of alarm, and when other villages were disciplined, the Manchester Guardian cried, “Odious.” “Contrary to British ideas of fair play,” snapped the socialist Earl of Listowel. But Templer’s grim methods worked. As soon as they learned that it was safe to be on Templer’s side (and uncomfortable not to be), Malaya’s villagers found courage to resist the Communists. Three hundred former terrorists joined the British forces and led an expedition that killed a dozen of their former comrades. Peasants hid their food so that the terrorists could not get it. Others, at his suggestion, started writing letters to Templer, who read them all himself.

Heartening Sign

Lashed by Templer’s tongue (“We’ve got some bloody bad soldiers in Malaya”), British, Gurkha and Fijian infantry carried the war to the enemy. Paratroopers slid down from low-hovering helicopters to take rebel concentrations by surprise: low-flying aircraft strafed the jungle clearings. The campaign was long and arduous, fought in a sea of undergrowth that was infested with leeches and pythons. But slowly it paid off. On Templer’s pitiless scoreboard, the “average monthly killing rate” rose from hardly any at all to 93 per month (“A most heartening sign.” said Templer). Casualties among British troops were reduced by 30%, and in nine of the eleven Malay states, large areas were shaded “white” to denote that they were Communist-free.

By last week the British score was 4,947 Communists killed. 2,559 wounded, 1,359 surrendered. But in the depths of the Malayan rain forest, the lowlying Reds are still on the warpath. The remaining Communist leaders, says General Templer, “listen in to Moscow and Peking radio . . . and from this they take their party line.” Should Indo-China be lost, Templer expects more terrorism in Malaya, but unless and until the Malayan guerrillas get help from Red China, the British think they can handle them. The Communist Party effort in Malaya, Templer could say confidently last week, “is concentrated on bare survival.” Templer’s military success revived Malaya’s morale. Dejection and hopelessness gave way to confidence. In armored car and helicopter, Templer swooped down on hundreds of jungle villages, scores of tiny towns. The people not only heard of him; they saw and heard him themselves. In the early days Templer would arrive in a kampong (village), line up the elders and bark at them: “Create your own home guards, stop food going to the enemy, help yourselves . . or else.” But as the initiative passed to the government, the High Commissioner seemed to mellow. “How’s your local council?” he would say. “Everybody happy? Have you built a school?” Templer’s greatest asset was his unsuspected humanity. He would drop in on a Malay wedding and drink to the health of the bride; sometimes he staggered subordinates by doffing his mask of harshness and leading them (“Louder … louder”) in some ribald army ballad. Once when a Malay woman complained that her policeman-husband had stopped her allowances, Templer replied in person. Within days the policeman reformed.

One Nation

Templer’s favorite theme, in kampong and city alike, was Malayan nationhood.

He saw no way of reconciling the 2,000,000 industrious Chinese (who dominate the economy) with the 2,700, 000 easygoing Malays (who dominate the politics), except in a sense of common patriotism. To break down the colour bar, Templer forced the diehard British to open their posh clubs to men of all races. To give the Chinese a stake in the country, he pressed for (and got) common citizenship, entitling the Chinese to vote. The Malays, appalled, called Templer pro-Chinese, but he turned round and slapped on a tax that hit the wealthy Chinese hard. They called him pro-Malay. Templer saw plainly that there could he no real prospect of uniting and strengthening Malaya unless its people, of all races, had the hope of political freedom. With the full approval of the British government, he junked the outmoded notions of imperialism and promised, in their place, that “Malaya will be-come, in due course, a self-governing nation . . . within the British Commonwealth.” Templer pushed through a constitutional revision which will permit national elections, give the National Assembly a narrow majority of elected (over appointed) members. In principle, at least, the new constitution is a big step towards nationhood.

Legend in the Kampongs

At his last press conference, Templer introduced his successor. He is capable Sir Donald Mc-Gillivray, 47, the Scottish diplomat who had been Templer’s political deputy since 1952. McGillivray’s appointment symbolized the changeover from a largely military to a mainly political emergency in Malaya. Said Templer generously: “I couldn’t have done without him.”

How Malaya would do without Templer was anybody’s guess. But the hard, lean soldier would not be forgotten. “Templer left his impression on the whole country,” wrote a Malayan. “Perhaps he ll be a legend in the kampongs. They will remember the spare, striding figure, the smile that lit the eyes …”

The world has changed. The ascendance of human rights and “British ideas of fair play” have let exploits like Templer’s fade into quaint tales from history. Yet they happened in my lifetime.

Some things don’t change much, though. The left-leaning Guardian cried “odious”, while the right-leaning Telegraph was pleased: “Templer found Malaya toppling. He left it firm.” So the Left and Right saw through different lenses, even then.

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