CENTRAL ASIA AND THE AFGHAN WAR OF 1878-79

The gradual advance of Russia, and its conquest of the ancient principalities of Central Asia during the present century, have from time to time formed subjects of great interest to the people of this country, chiefly on account of the possible effect of the Russian approach to the borders of our Indian empire; and, having studied the question for many years, I propose to give a short summary of its rise, progress, and present position, more especially from a military point of view. At the beginning of the century, the southern boundary of Russia extended from the north of the Caspian by Orenburg and Orsk, and then across to the old Mongolian city of Semipalatinsk, and was guarded by a cordon of forts and Cossack outposts. This line was no less than 2,000 miles in length, and abutted on the great Kirghis steppe, and to a certain extent controlled the tribes pasturing in its vicinity, but by no means established the hold of Russia on that pathless, and for the most part lifeless waste. Nevertheless, even in those early days, we experienced occasional alarms from imaginary invasions of our Eastern possessions. In 1801 we were threatened with a joint attack of the French, Persian, and Afghan armies; but finally we made a treaty with the Shah, in which it was stipulated that 'should an army of the French nation, actuated by design and deceit,' attempt to establish themselves in Persia, a conjoint force of English and Persians should be appointed to put an end to them.

In 1808, another great expedition against the East India Company's possessions was planned—on paper—between Napoleon and the Emperor Alexander of Russia; but this danger was also averted by a second treaty at Teheran in 1809, in which the Shah covenanted 'not to permit any European force whatever to pass through Persia.' Again, for a third time, in 1837, we were supposed to be threatened by a combined attack of Persians, Russians, and Afghans, of which Kaye gives the following account: 'It was believed,' he says, 'that the danger was great and imminent. There was a Persian army, under the command of the King of kings himself, investing Herat, and threatening to march upon Candahar and Cabul. There were Russian diplomatists and Russian engineers in his camp, directing the councils of the Shah and the operations of the siege. The Barukzye sirdars of Afghanistan were intriguing with the Persian Court; and far out in the distance, beyond the mountains of the Hindoo Koosh, there was the shadow of a great northern army, tremendous in its indistinctness, sweeping across the wilds and deserts of Central Asia towards the frontier of Hindostan.'[109] All these shadows, however, passed harmlessly away; and the so-called great northern army, as we now know, but as we did not know then, was the Russian column of Perofski, consisting of a few thousand men, which had left Orenburg with a view to chastise the Khan of Khiva, and which perished from famine and pestilence in the snowy wastes of the Barsuk desert, north of the Aral.

It was not until 1847, contemporaneously with our final conquest of the Punjab, that the Russian advances in Central Asia assumed an important aspect. She had held nominal sway since 1730 over the Kirghis tribes in the western division of the great steppe; but, except in the vicinity of Orenburg, had little real control. In 1847-8, however, Russia erected three fortresses in the heart of the steppe—thus forming a connecting link with the Sir Daria—and established Fort Aralsk, near the embouchure of the river. The Russians having thus crossed the great desert, came permanently into contact with the three khanates of Central Asia, and their progress and conquests since that date have been comparatively easy and rapid. The principalities had no military strength which could long withstand the advance of a great Power, and the Russians are now predominant in that part of the world, and are masters on the Aral and Caspian Seas. Drawing a line from east to west, their outposts are dotted along the crests of the Tian-Shan mountains, looking down on Kashgar; in the centre their frontier touches the outlying provinces of Afghanistan which lie to the north of the Hindoo Koosh; whilst on the west their possessions run along the border of Persia.

What we have to consider, therefore, is the fact that a great Power, within the last forty or fifty years, has virtually advanced its old frontier for many hundred miles southwards, rapidly overrunning the country like a tidal wave over sands; absorbing decaying principalities, establishing forts at strategic points, taking possession of inland seas, routes, and river communications, until its frontier posts not only approach our own, but are on the confines of countries with which we are closely associated, and some of which are more or less under our direct influence and control. Her long line of frontier is devious, and not always perfectly defined; it wanders along the crests of mountains, is marked sometimes by the course of rivers, and occasionally almost lost in pathless deserts. So far as the principalities themselves are concerned, it is admitted that their conquest by Russia is an unmixed blessing to the inhabitants. In their bare outline these changes are certainly matters of interest to us; but they do not necessarily constitute a great danger. There is undoubtedly a difference between the present and the past. The military forces of a great Power are now in comparative proximity to our Indian empire, and hold ground formerly in possession of governments which, although usually unfriendly, had no real means of injuring us. We need not now discuss the causes of Russian activity; whether they have been the result of the apocryphal will of Peter the Great, or of the military restlessness and ambition of her generals on the spot, or the inevitable consequence of collision with half-civilised decaying States. What we have to consider is the effect on our position in India.

Perhaps the most striking feature is the vast extent of country absorbed by Russia. From Orenburg in the north to Samarcand in the south is more than 1,000 miles in a straight line, and from the Caspian to Kuldja, west to east, about 1,500 miles. Increased military power is not, however, a necessary result of extended dominion. The annexation of a country well peopled, fertile, rich, and civilised, and whose inhabitants are in accord with their new rulers, may give a great accession of strength, but when none of these conditions are fulfilled, conquest may lead to military weakness. The population of Central Asia is not only extremely sparse, but, owing to extensive deserts and to the vicissitudes of climate, many of the tribes are nomadic in their habits. The whole population is estimated not to exceed four millions and a half. When we consider that our empire of India, which approximately is of about the same geographical area as Russian Central Asia, contains a population of over 250 millions, we have at once a striking example presented to us of the difference of the two regions.

The power of conducting military operations on a great scale depends not only on the resources of the country to be traversed as regards supplies of food, pasture, fuel, and water, but also on facilities of communication and transport. In discussing, therefore, the possible future danger to our Eastern possessions from a further advance of Russia, the sterility and general characteristics of the country in which she has established herself, and also the great distance of her troops from the main resources of the empire, become important elements for consideration. War is a science which depends for its success not only on the courage of well armed, disciplined hosts, and of skilled generals as leaders, but also on the means of rapid concentration and of bringing up reserves of munitions and matÉriel. Modern armies are specially tied by such considerations. Now Central Asia is exceptionally deficient in all these essential requirements, and these conditions are abiding. It therefore forms a very weak base of operations against a great empire like India, whose general characteristics are of an exactly contrary character; and although the construction in recent years of a railway from the Caspian to Samarcand will to a certain extent give facility for transport, still it will not in itself alter the general features of the pathless deserts of which the greater part of the country consists.

Between the recently conquered provinces of Russia and our empire of India lies the mountainous country of Afghanistan, inhabited by warlike tribes of brave, fanatical Mohammedans who certainly have no love for Russia. In a geographical and indeed in every sense, it is laid out, as it were, as the natural frontier of an empire. All along its northern provinces stands the snow-capped range of the Hindoo Koosh, stretching away from east to west: a line of mountains between 15,000 and 20,000 feet high, with few practicable passes, and even these are closed in winter. It thus presents for the greater part of its length a natural barrier against aggression, which a few military works at the passes would render impregnable. Even as far west as Herat, the ranges to the north of it are several thousand feet high. But this is not all. The great ridges which run away in a south-westerly direction from the Hindoo Koosh, and which, enclosing long narrow valleys of limited fertility, form the greater part of Afghanistan—all these present a series of additional natural defences. Afghanistan resembles Switzerland, but its mountains are higher, its defiles more difficult, its resources very scanty, and it has no roads properly so called; so that an enemy advancing from the north can only come in any force by one route—that is, by skirting the successive ridges where they sink into the southern deserts. It is indeed remarkable that India is surrounded for hundreds of miles to the north-west by a vast zone of barren country, including Afghanistan, Persia, and the principalities; territories unequalled perhaps in the world for their misery and desolation; but which, regarded from a purely military point of view, offer a great impediment to projects of invasion. The Afghans are poor, but brave, hardy, fanatical, and no doubt somewhat turbulent. They hate all intruders. In former days the hordes of Asia, composed chiefly of cavalry, could disregard bases of support and supply, and, being unencumbered with siege trains or other modern appliances, could sally out from these desert wastes, and, braving all risks, overflow the comparatively rich fertile plains of India. But all such incursions are now happily impossible. Circumstances have entirely altered. Modern science has so expanded the means of defence that armies of invasion must necessarily bring with them a corresponding power; and this entails vast encumbrances, numerous depÔts, good roads, and safe communications.

It now becomes time to consider the military position of our empire in India, and here we are met at once by conditions the very opposite of those I have described as prevailing in Central Asia. Whilst Russia has been engaged for many years past in the almost futile effort of establishing her power amongst the remains of decaying principalities, and of introducing civilisation in regions where almost every element of prosperity is deficient, we have also consolidated our empire in the East. Order now reigns in India in place of anarchy, the government of the law has replaced that of the sword, and provinces formerly almost depopulated by depredations and misrule have become fertile and prosperous. Life is safe, and religion and property respected. The value of land has increased; great commercial cities have arisen and trade flourishes.[110] Good civil government, in causing contentment to the people and in developing the resources of the country, gives vast additional strength to our military power. In addition to the British troops, we maintain highly efficient armies recruited from the many martial races under our rule, and are able to increase them almost at will. At the same time, the improved means of communication by railways, roads, and rivers enable us to concentrate our forces, supplies, and munitions with comparative ease. It may seem almost unnecessary to dwell upon facts so well known; but judging from much of what we often hear and read, the enormous latent strength we possess in India appears not to be fully appreciated.

We hold a central position of great concentration and power, whilst that of Russia is necessarily much the opposite; so even were the two empires in contact, the danger would not be on our side. We are the great and predominant naval and military power in the East, and Russia is comparatively the weak one; and there is nothing in the present aspect and condition of affairs likely to cause any important alteration in these respects. Russia may not have the wish to attack us in India, but she has not the power, which is a far more important consideration. But the two empires are not in contact, or near it. The most advanced Cossack outpost on the Murghab is several hundred miles from the Indus; so that, far as the Russians have already advanced, and far removed as their outposts are from the bases of supply, they have still a whole continent of very difficult country to traverse before they would even be in sight of our frontier river and of the plains of India.

The views on this important question which I had formed and published years ago, were fully confirmed in 1887 by Sir West Ridgeway, who was our representative at the Joint Commission, which, between 1885 and 1887, finally marked out the northern frontier of Afghanistan; and who, from his position and the accurate knowledge he obtained of the country, was able to give an authoritative opinion. He wrote: 'If any Russian general were so reckless as to attempt the invasion of India, and, relying on the single line of lightly constructed rails which connect the Caspian with the Oxus—and which are liable in summer to be blocked by the moving sands of the desert, and in winter by the falling snows of heaven—if, relying on this frail and precarious base, he were to move an army through the barren plains bordering the Oxus, and, leaving in his rear the various hostile and excited races of Central Asia, he were to cross the difficult passes of the Hindoo Koosh and entangle his army in the barren mountain homes of the fanatical and treacherous Afghan, then indeed our fortunate generals may well congratulate themselves that the Lord has delivered the enemy into their hand. The same objection applies to an invasion of India by the Herat road. Imagine the plight of the Russian army when it arrived before our entrenched camp at Candahar, connected, as it would be, by railway with our immense resources in India. The Russian army would find itself in a country stripped of supplies and carriage, with a powerful enemy in its front, and fanatical tribes waging a guerilla war on its flanks and rear.'[111] Sir West Ridgeway also bore testimony to the beneficial rule of Russia in Central Asia, and that her officers on the frontier were conciliatory, moderate gentlemen.

If the foregoing statements and the opinions which I have offered upon them are sound, then it is evident that our general line of policy towards the people of Afghanistan is simple and clear. They hold important outworks, as it were, just outside our frontier; and, whilst not interfering with their independence, we should do all in our power not only to maintain the authority of their ruler, the Ameer of Cabul, but also to keep on friendly terms with the tribes, many of whom, especially those along our frontier, are more or less independent. Our policy should be one of conciliation and of subsidies; and although in dealing with half-civilised, turbulent chiefs and tribes the beneficial results are achieved slowly, still, year by year, a patient and forbearing policy will bear good fruit, and indeed is now doing so in a marked degree. It is important to note that in our dealings with the Ameer, and in granting him subsidies and arms, we only claimed in return that his foreign policy should be under our guidance. Our principle for years past had been that Afghanistan should be strong, friendly, and independent.

The gradual approach of the Russian frontier towards India led to a diplomatic correspondence in 1872-3[112] between Lord Granville, then Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, and Prince Gortchakoff, with a view to a clearer definition of the Afghan frontier north of the Hindoo Koosh. It was not that the forces of either Power were then on the ground, nor had the country been accurately surveyed; but the object was to avoid complications in the future, and it is to be observed that the Russian Government ultimately acquiesced in all Lord Granville's proposals as to the provinces and districts which were to be considered as Afghan territory. Though Russia claimed independence of action so far as the principalities[113] were concerned, it also fully accepted the principle that Afghanistan was within the sphere of our influence.

During the period from 1864 to 1876, when Lords Lawrence, Mayo, and Northbrook were successively Viceroys of India, the general policy which I have indicated was carefully pursued, but in the latter year a serious change occurred which eventually led to a great war in Afghanistan in 1878-9. There were apparently two main causes for the alteration in the views of the British Government. One was a restless feeling that we were somewhat in the dark as to the conduct of affairs in Cabul, and that the then Ameer Shere Ali was becoming unfriendly; the other that the long range of the Suliman mountains trans-Indus formed a somewhat insecure border line, and that we should take possession of some of the passes with a view of establishing what was called a scientific frontier. In pursuance of the first a violent effort was made to force English representatives on the Ameer at Cabul, Candahar, and Herat, a policy known to be specially feared by the Afghans, and which we had hitherto engaged more than once not to adopt.[114] In January 1877 an Afghan envoy, Noor Mahomed Khan, held prolonged meetings with the late Sir Lewis Pelly on the subject at Peshawur, and begged that the proposal might be dropped. He said: 'Why all this pressing to send British officers, when you declare that you have no wish to interfere in the internal affairs of Afghanistan? It has roused the suspicion of the Ameer.... He is now convinced that to allow British officers to reside in his country will be to relinquish his own authority.' ... Again he said: 'Your Government is a powerful and a great one; ours is a small and weak one. We have long been on terms of friendship, and the Ameer clings to the skirt of the British Government, and till his hand be cut off he will not relax his hold of it.' Sir Lewis Pelly, however, stated that the presence of English officers in Afghanistan was a sine qu non; and as Lord Lytton, the Viceroy, had already, in speaking of the position of Shere Ali between Russia and England, described it as that 'of an earthen pipkin between two iron pots,' it was evident that no friendly arrangement was likely to ensue. During 1877 our native agent at Cabul was withdrawn, our subsidy ceased, and Shere Ali remained in a position of isolation, and was left to form friendship elsewhere. In fact, we washed our hands of him and were evidently drifting into war.

As regards the other cause of dispute—the rectification of the trans-Indus frontier—the opinion of our Government at the time was that we should march into Afghanistan, and establish what was termed a strategical triangle between Cabul, Ghuznee and Jellalabad, and thus guard, as it were, the avenues to India.[115] Being greatly interested in the proposed military operations at the period in question, I wrote a letter to the Times,[116] pointing out the serious results which were likely to ensue on our advance into Afghanistan, and of which the following are extracts. 'In my opinion such an idea is a dangerous delusion. Afghanistan is a country of mountains, and the Suliman range, which forms our boundary, is merely the first of a series of great ridges running down south-westerly from the Hindoo Koosh. If we enter the country and merely hold the nearest passes, we shall at once find ourselves in a maze of mountains, with dozens of other passes and strong positions in our front. Not only that, but we shall become involved with other tribes; and as soon as our flag is seen flying within the Afghan mountains, our influence will begin to extend, political and military complications will arise, and we shall inevitably be carried forward.' Alluding to the policy which had for some years past been followed, I went on to point out that 'the frontier throughout its length is far quieter now than in the years gone by. Occasional acts of outrage and robbery are treated as matters of police. Many of the men of the Afghan tribes beyond the border now enter our service, and do their duty well.... Therefore, I maintain that a conciliatory policy has been in a great measure successful, and was leading straight to the object we had in view, although time, patience, and forbearance are required before the results become palpable and confirmed.' Lord Lawrence, the greatest authority then living on the subject, wrote several letters to the 'Times' in 1878 strongly deprecating our change of policy, and I had the satisfaction of receiving from him a note expressing his entire agreement with the military views which I had put forward.

Whilst the two causes I have described gradually led to the estrangement of the Ameer of Cabul, an additional fear arose in his mind owing to our dealings with the ruler of the neighbouring country of Beluchistan.[117] Here also we had for many years past, and amidst some difficulties, pursued a course of conciliation and subsidies with the ruler, the Khan of Khelat; one of our objects being to insure the safe passage of caravans with goods through the Bolam. In 1877, however, a new treaty having been made, a small British force entered the country, and, marching through the Pass, occupied and fortified Quetta, on the borders of Afghanistan, ostensibly as a protection to our representative. It was, perhaps, only natural under the circumstances, that Shere Ali should look with some distrust at the presence of our troops on his immediate southern border, and on the direct road to Candahar. Matters drifted on during 1878, but Shere Ali having finally rejected our ultimatum, war was declared in November, and British troops entered Afghanistan in three columns—one by the Khyber as far as Jellalabad, the second occupied the Koorum valley, whilst the third, marching through the Bolam, reached Candahar in January 1879. These operations were accomplished with comparative ease, and for the moment our success seemed complete. Shere Ali fled from Cabul, and died soon afterwards, and his son and successor, Yakoob Khan, having sued for peace, a treaty was signed in May, the chief items of which were that we should permanently retain the Koorum and Pisheen valleys, and also send an English officer with a suitable escort as our representative at Cabul, Major Cavagnari being selected for the purpose.[118] So far all seemed well; but in reality the war, instead of being at an end, was only at its commencement. In September, Cavagnari and his escort were surrounded and murdered, and the whole country was disorganised and seething with excitement. The treaty of peace was torn up,[119] and the Khyber and Koorum columns marched at once upon Cabul, and after severe fighting established our authority at the capital.

So completely had these serious and untoward events changed the aspect of affairs that Lord Lytton, the Viceroy, in January 1880 stated that we must recognise disintegration as the basis of our policy. The province of Cabul was to be given over to one Afghan chief, Candahar to another, and as to Herat, the most flourishing and important district of all, it was proposed to hand it over to Persia. It is not necessary to describe the military measures which followed, which were brilliantly carried out, but towards the close of the campaign we had about 60,000 men either actually in Afghanistan or on the frontier, and even then we only commanded the ground on which we stood; whilst the cost of the war amounted to nearly twenty millions sterling. In the end, and after much discussion, however, the British Government reverted to the original policy of a strong, friendly, and independent Afghanistan; and Abdul Rahman Khan, who had been a refugee for years in Russian territory, was acknowledged by us as the ruler of the country. Our forces were withdrawn early in 1881, and the strategical triangle was, by common consent, consigned to the waste paper basket.[120]

In my opinion the war of 1878-9 was bad in policy and unjust in principle from beginning to end. It is a matter of history now, but we not only were fighting against those we ought to have conciliated, but nearly ended in disintegrating the country and taking a large portion of it ourselves. Subsequent to the withdrawal of our army the country became more settled, although the position of Abdul Rahman was for some time precarious. By our support, financial and other, however, he slowly established his authority, and has continued on terms of friendship with our Government.

Reverting to Central Asia, the capture of Merv by the Russians and their gradual approximation to the northern provinces of Afghanistan, combined with the somewhat overbearing conduct of their military subordinates on the spot, led in 1885 to a conflict at Penjdeh between the Russian and Afghan outposts, which at one time threatened to lead to a great war. I have already explained that although by the Granville-Gortchakoff agreement of 1873 the northern Afghan provinces were settled, their actual boundaries, in the absence of full information, remained somewhat indefinite. Indeed, in countries chiefly inhabited by nomadic tribes, wandering about in search of pasture, such questions are often more or less uncertain. As a proof of the doubtful nature of the facts at that time, I may point out that in the official English maps published a few years before the Penjdeh incident, that hitherto almost unknown village was marked as outside the Afghan frontier. It would answer no good purpose to re-open a subject which involved no great principle, and the issues of which were exaggerated at the time by violent and imprudent language, both in England and Russia. It was eminently one for diplomatic arrangement and not for war, and found its solution in the joint Boundary Commission which was originated by Lord Granville,[121] and brought to a friendly conclusion in 1887. The Marquis of Salisbury, who was Prime Minister at the time, alluding to the arrangement, said: 'I believe a more well-balanced and equable settlement could hardly have been arrived at. There has been no great sacrifice on either side; but I value the settlement for this reason, not because I attach much importance to the square miles of desert with which we have been dealing—and which probably after ten generations of mankind will not yield the slightest value to any human being—but because it indicates on both sides that spirit which in the two Governments is consistent with continued peace.' That, in my judgment is the spirit in which two great Powers should always be prepared to act in international disagreements.

One more subject remains, as regards Central Asia, which deserves a few remarks—that of the Pamirs, on the north eastern confines of Afghanistan. The country, until recently very little known, is an elevated desolate plateau ringed round with snowy ridges, and is the point of junction of the three great mountain ranges—the Himalayas, the Hindoo Koosh, and the Tian-Shan. The fact that some of the lakes on this elevated region are over 12,000 feet above the sea is a proof of its exceptional character. The climate is very severe, and its inhabitants appear to be chiefly nomadic tribes from Afghanistan, Russia, and China respectively, who bring their flocks there for pasture during the three or four summer months. The actual delimitation of the frontiers, it is understood, is now being amicably arranged between the Powers concerned. As a base for military operations for an advance on India, the very nature of the country offers insurmountable obstacles and hardly needs discussion. I have dealt in some detail with the subject of Central Asia, as one of great and general interest, and have endeavoured to explain the military aspect of the case, because it is the one perhaps not so generally understood. There are people who say that war, sooner or later, is inevitable. As the late Lord Derby once very sensibly remarked: 'Of the two I prefer it later.' It appears to me that there is no cause for war, or indeed probability of it, between Russia and England in that part of the world; but should such unfortunately arise, the danger would not lie on our side.