The Bush Administration's latest contribution to peace, prosperity and democracy - to sell 24 F-16 fighter jets to Pakistan - seems to have sailed under the radar. Perhaps that is why it was announced just before Easter. No swords into ploughshares this year.

A State Department spokesman, Adam Ereli, said the sale would "improve security and improve prosperity and improve development of the entire region". Oh yes, and the Easter Bunny is an arms dealer.

By "region", we can only assume he meant George Bush's home state of Texas, where the jobs of 5000 workers at Lockheed Martin Corporation's F-16 factory are on the line due to declining orders.

The decision undermines more than two decades of sanctions imposed because of Pakistan's clandestine nuclear program and 1999 military coup. The nuclear program is no longer clandestine and the military ruler, Pervez Musharraf, is an ally in the war against militant Islamists. He might even co-operate in a looming conflict with neighbouring Iran, so praise God and pass the ammunition.

Democracy and nuclear non-proliferation are important, but not as important as defending jobs in the US and catching Osama bin Laden.

Unfortunately, selling warplanes to Pakistan - as Australia discovered when it offloaded second-hand Mirages in the 1990s - antagonises India, which is not only a democracy but a rapidly emerging player in the world economy. In 1989, the German Federal Intelligence Service reported that Pakistan could adapt its existing F-16s to carry nuclear weapons. No prizes for guessing the likely target.

Solution? Sell even more warplanes to India. New Delhi is being encouraged to swallow the deal in return for closer diplomatic and military ties with the US and a place in the sun as a counterweight to China. Judging by India's restrained reaction to the announcement, this gambit may well succeed.

New Delhi's ageing Russian-built MiGs fall out of the sky with terrifying regularity. It needs an air force, not only to deter Pakistani adventures but to fend off China, which still has unresolved border issues.

If India buys the mooted 126 warplanes, the cost with spares will be about $US10 billion ($13 billion). That's a lot of schools, hospitals and basic infrastructure that the people of one of the world's poorest regions won't see. It's probably true that if the US doesn't sell them the planes, the Russians, Chinese and Europeans will, and that by permitting US firms to sell military hardware overseas, the US gains a degree of leverage over its customers.

However, the extent of that influence is limited. In the 1970s the US blocked arms supplies to Pakistan over concerns about its clandestine nuclear program, but when the Russians invaded Afghanistan, military aid and sales resumed. When that war ended with the Russian withdrawal and demise of the Soviet Union, the US again imposed nuclear-related sanctions on Islamabad. The attacks of September 11, 2001, put an end to that.

The danger of ad hoc policymaking is that the contradictions eventually blow up in your face. Relying on Islamists to defeat the Russians produced al-Qaeda and September 11. Relying on Pakistan as a frontline state meant turning a blind eye to its nuclear program.

When Pakistan went nuclear in 1998, Iran was encouraged to follow suit. The more Islamic bombs, the more likely one will end up being detonated in Sydney or Washington. The more we rely on Musharraf, the less chance there is of him holding genuinely free elections in 2007.

The White House has drawn different lessons. It believes sanctions imposed by its Democrat predecessors reduced US leverage. Having learnt to survive without American help, Pakistan began acting like a regional sheriff, patronising the Taliban.

Commentators who don't know any better are inclined to see decisions such as the F-16 sale in romantic terms, as part of a great struggle for freedom and democracy. In fact, such decisions are driven by competition for security and resources in a dangerous, fast-changing world.

Nowadays, they are also routinely accompanied by cynical deceit on the part of governments and the wishful thinking of uncritical analysts. This gap between reality and self-serving, self-deluding rhetoric endangers the very freedoms it purports to defend. Unless, that is, you believe in the Easter Bunny.

Christopher Kremmer is a Herald contributor and author of The Carpet Wars: A Journey Across the Islamic Heartlands

© 2005 Sydney Morning Herald

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