By Paul Kennedy

In 1917-1918, as the Russian Empire collapsed into civil war and multi-ethnic chaos, and as the so-called "forward school" of British strategists pressed for forces to be dispatched into Turkestan to stabilise things, the world-weary statesman Lord Balfour urged caution. He had listened to such talk for more than 40 years, he reminded the cabinet, and had become wary of armchair generals who sought to achieve security by assuming distant territorial obligations. Taken to its logical extent, Balfour wryly observed, the British army might have to patrol the southern suburbs of Moscow in order to ensure the Empire's hold over India and the safety of oil supplies through the Gulf.

It would be interesting to know whether any analogous Balfourian cautions had been raised in the secret Anglo-American councils before the decision to destroy the Taliban and reconstruct the Afghan polity. Given the sheer extent of US military muscle - the Pentagon's budget last year equalled the combined defence spending of the next nine military spenders - it is not surprising that the Afghan skies are totally under allied control, that the US Rangers and the SAS can be flown in and out, and that the Northern Alliance and other tribal groups can be backed in their vengeful conquests of Kabul and Kandahar. And if Osama bin Laden still hides in a chilly Himalayan cave, it will also not be surprising if he is apprehended some time soon and, most likely, shot dead by a Marine. The American nation, or at least a greater part of it, expects no less for the appalling terrorist acts of September 11.

Since that same US opinion believes that this is a special war between good and evil, analogies about earlier wars by European colonialists will seem insulting and wrong. The United States, backed by loyal allies, simply intends to destroy the Afghan-based terrorists (and supporters elsewhere) and to assist, less avidly, in some form of UN-organised rebuilding of a blighted nation. Most of the troops will surely (hopefully?) be home by Christmas if not shortly thereafter. The spanking of the Taliban has been flawless - contrary to the gloomier pundits - and the campaign can be wound down soon.

The military operations to date have indeed been stunning. But let us return to Balfour's troubled mind. He was not an anti-imperialist MP or a leftwing professor. He had impeccable conservative credentials, but his conservatism was intellectual and reasoned.

Like the famous American diplomat George Kennan, he mistrusted excess and enthusiasm and jingoism, and was surely less than charismatic. Yet - and this the reason for summoning his ghost - he was deeply interested in the measurement of power, and in the proper application of power. He worried that a democracy could not sustain its early enthusiasm for a war in faraway places once the first easy conquests were replaced by messier and more protracted conflict. He worried about colonial campaigns distracting policy-makers from the maintenance of Great-Power relations, or forcing compromises with other powers. Balfour worried a lot - he was, after all, also a professional philosopher as well as a former prime minister - but his instincts were usually sound. It was not the deployment of massive force abroad that concerned him. (He had been around when Sir Garnet Wolsely's troops crushed the Egyptian nationalists in 1882, and Kitchener's army smashed the Mahdi's "fanatical" forces in the Sudan in 1898. He remembered even earlier how General Roberts had punished the Afghans in 1880 for their attacks against British forces; not for nothing was his title Lord Roberts of Kandahar, where he had routed the Afghan army.)

But that victory had been followed by a prudent British withdrawal, back through the Khyber Pass, since London and Delhi had no desire to "civilise" the Afghans. By contrast, the victories in Egypt and the Sudan, initially taken to stabilise affairs, were followed by decades of British administration and earnest efforts to provide good government: Mr Gladstone's "bondage in Egypt" was a common joke of the time. From Tunisia and the Caucasus to Burma and Indo-China, the world was studded with similar examples of attempts by the west to shore up crumbling frontiers and suppress sources of instability.

Often, a brief period of rule was envisaged; almost as often, the victor power had to assume more and more responsibilities. By 1918, Balfour was convinced that the last thing a war-weary Britain needed was the long-term supervision of tribal conflicts in Central Asia.

Is this analogy useful? Well, like all analogies, no and yes. No, no, no, because America in 2001 is not Britain in 1918; the technology is different, the politics are different, and so on. But yes, yes, yes, because the same question arises: once you have smashed the foe in distant hills and plains, do you pull back swiftly (the Roberts option) or stay there, for the long haul, to rebuild and control (the Kitchener option)?

So far, President Bush's team - himself, Cheney, Powell, Rice, Rumsfeld, and in the background Bush Sr - have been a terrific combination. They have worked all the angles: economic, political, intelligence cooperation, police-work, right across the globe. It is inconceivable to think of a Clinton or Gore administration having such sure-footedness. The Taliban are still fighting for Kandahar and a few other Afghan cities that 99% of the world until this time had never heard of. They may have surprises, but the fate of those cities is on the wall.

Whether or not this war is close to formal completion, the United States now faces Balfour's cautious reflections. Logically, there are three options. The first is simply to get out of Afghanistan as soon as there appears to be no further opposition to American armed force and Osama bin Laden has been killed or captured. Casual conversation at the local dry-cleaners or the wine store here in Connecticut suggests that that is what most American citizens want: go in, blast the enemy to pieces, and bring the boys home, without suffering any casualties. They have no time for pundits who suggest that we might also take this opportunity to effect a change of regime in Iraq and Iran and further afield. Should tougher fighting in the foothills around Kandahar cause losses among US troops, this sentiment will increase very swiftly, and many a nimble congressman will run along with it. But the idea of America helping to complete the devastation of Afghanistan and then turning its back upon the tragic aftermath seems irresponsible, and Colin Powell and Bush Sr in particular would strongly oppose such a course.

The second option, then, would be to pass the whole messy business onto the platter of the UN, something for which Kofi Annan and his advisers are already bracing themselves. The "heavy boys" such as the US Rangers and the Royal Marine Commandos would have done the necessary destructive work, and now the "softer" international actors would commence the reconstruction of the Afghan polity, society and economy. Some American aid would be forthcoming, but a lot more would be expected of rich bystander nations such as Japan and Saudi Arabia to rebuild this ravaged country. International agencies, from the World Bank and IMF to the UN Development Programme, Unicef and all the rest - so recently scorned as ineffectual by American conservatives - would be rolled into play. And, as for the law and order problems, they could be handled by a force of Blue Helmets provided by a coalition of the willing: a Turkish contingent, an Indonesian contingent (gasp), some well-meaning Swedes and Tunisians and Nigerians and Bulgarians.

But if Afghan history is any guide, the option of "rebuilding without the Americans" will be a precarious endeavour. Right now, lots of weapons are being hidden away for the next round of internal wars. The recent death of a Taliban leader or a tribal warlord commits family and followers to seek revenge. A coalition of factions - Pashtuns, Northern Alliance, ex-Talibans, independent tribes - is unlikely to last long and, when a disgruntled party withdraws, the weapons will be taken up again. Does anyone seriously believe that UN peacekeepers from smaller, neutral countries will be able to contain that violence? Or will be respected by anyone? It sounds crude to say it, but it is hard military power - from Lord Roberts' redcoats to President Bush's B-52 bombers - that gains respect in this part of the world.

This leaves America with the third option: to stay in Afghanistan for a much longer period of time and, in conjunction with other countries and the United Nations, to undertake a nation-building task that could make the reconstruction of Angola, Cambodia and Bosnia seem easy. There would be a US military presence, in protected air bases and camps. There would be American advisers, civilian and military, to advise the restoration government. The head of the international peacekeeping and police forces would be an American, too; how could it possibly be an Algerian or Polish general? No time limits would be set for this enterprise; the withdrawal would come when a reasonable civic society was evident.

And how long will that take? Five years? Fifteen years? Who knows? Will the American Congress and public, aroused as it is by the September 11 attacks, remain so determined at the prospect of year-after-year policing, with occasional losses caused by booby-traps and snipers? Has President Bush's team, hitherto so sure-footed, started to prepare the nation for the long haul?

As it ponders its options, it might want to consider earlier case studies of "bondage in Egypt". Saying this is not to advocate a fast American pullout; in fact, all present evidence suggests that options one and two would lead to bloodshed and disaster. But the option of staying on to rebuild a decent Afghanistan is likely to be much more trying and unsatisfactory than the dropping of blockbuster bombs onto cave-mouths. Since President Bush is not oblivious to that fact, the time may be approaching when he should caution the American people that swift victories in the field do not always translate into easy and quick political settlements. Phase Two is about to begin.

Paul Kennedy is Professor of History at Yale University and author of The Rise and Fall of the Great Powers

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