At a time of unusual US interest in south Asia it is useful to see how specialists there look at the two issues explored in this book -- the Kashmir conflict and south Asian nuclearisation. Twelve of the 15 contributors are US-based and therefore it is not surprising that the book is largely by Americans for Americans. But this does not detract from its value for Indians and Pakistanis, because the scholarship is impressive and analyses mostly free of bias. The volume contains 13 essays including a short introductory one by the editors. The remaining 12 are grouped into three parts.

The four essays in the first group (Pakistan: Politics and Kashmir) are "Islamic Extremism and Regional Conflict in South Asia" by Vali Nasr, "Constitutional and Political Change in Pakistan: The Military-Governance Paradigm" by Charles H. Kennedy, "The Practice of Islam in Pakistan and the Influence of Islam in Pakistani Politics" by C. Christine Fair and Karthik Vaidyanathan, and "Pakistan's Relations with Azad Kashmir and the Impact on Indo-Pakistani Relations" by Rifaat Hussain.

Vali Nasr provides a succinct account of how Islamic fervour and Islamic extremism grew in Pakistan after 1971 and how political players in the country, especially the army, tried to make use of it for domestic political and foreign policy gains. He provides a good analysis of how the Pakistani elite is torn between de-emphasising Islam for the sake of socioeconomic gains and stressing it for political advantage. In case of the army there is the additional factor of "jihadi" usefulness in pursuing regional strategic aims.

Charles Kennedy presents an interesting analysis of how the army captures power and holds on to it. He shows how Ayub Khan, Zia-ul-Haq and Musharraf have adopted essentially the same approach in this regard -- following the stages of making things legal, eliminating political opponents, becoming president, stressing local government, intimidating bureaucracy and judiciary, fixing the constitution and orchestrating elections. Two key observations he makes at the end are "the failure to develop a stable constitutional system is the fault of both Pakistan's military and civilian leadership" and that "constitutional stability can only be achieved if there is an accommodation between the interests of the two sets of actors."

Christine Fair and Karthik Vaidyanathan have tried to assess the influence of Islam in Pakistan partly on the basis of three polls conducted to gauge Muslim reaction to war against terrorism, and partly on the basis of interviews. Two noteworthy conclusions of the authors are that there is little popular support for extremist Islam in Pakistan (the good performance of MMA in the 2002 elections is rightly attributed to the political vacuum created by Musharraf and strong post-9/11 anti-Americanism), and that the Pakistan military's current effort to control, rather than eradicate, terrorism cannot work.

Rifaat Hussain has given a detailed account of India-Pakistan relations during 1979-2004, but his effort to explain Pakistan's relations with "Azad" J and K does not go beyond the little that is generally known. The lack of detailed, unbiased information about the society and politics of "Azad" J and K, which Pakistan pretends is not under its thumb, and of northern areas, which Pakistan has unabashedly incorporated into itself, is a major knowledge-gap that handicaps the search for peace in J and K.

The four essays in the second group (India: Politics and Kashmir) are "Who Speaks for India? The Role of Civil Society in Defining Indian Nationalism" by Ainslie T. Embrie, "Hindu Nationalism and the BJP: Transforming Religion and Politics in India" by Robert L. Hardgrave Jr., "Hindu Fundamentalism, Muslim Jihad and Secularism: Muslims in the Political Life of the Republic of India" by Barbara D Metcalf, and "Jammu and Kashmir in the Indian Union: Politics of Autonomy" by Chandrashekhar Dasgupta.

In his essay Ainslie Embrie has tried to explicate the complex relationship between the state and civil society in India. The tension and overlap between secular and Hindu nationalisms have been presented with deep understanding. The Gujarat massacres of 2002 have been explained in relation to the various constituents of the Sangh parivar. Indian attitudes to matters of sub-nationalism have been explained not only in relation to Kashmir but also to the north-east and Punjab.

Robert Hardgrave's essay covers much the same ground although the focus is more squarely on the BJP and the RSS. He speaks of sections within the RSS that want to align "Hindu" India with the west against Islam. At the same time he underscores how the demands of power have moderated the ideological temper of the BJP. Both Embrie and Hardgrave have written with western readers in mind and much of the ground they have covered would be familiar to Indians.

Barbara Metcalf's essay about Muslim Indians draws attention to the fact that the post-9/11 war against terrorism evoked no response from them, unlike the case with Muslims elsewhere. She has explained thoughtfully the reasons for this as well as for the rise in anti-Muslim sentiments in India from the 1980s. The contents of this essay can provide useful insights to Indians and Pakistanis. Metcalf warns that Hindu extremism can help recruit Muslim terrorists in Pakistan and Bangladesh and, in the long run, possibly within India itself. She also makes a case for declaring organisations like the VHP "terrorist" in the light of Gujarat killings.

Chandrashekhar Dasgupta's essay on J and K and autonomy is "balanced" by Indian standards. He writes that New Delhi should "accommodate Kashmiri demands for autonomy to the maximum extent compatible with the legitimate regional interests of Jammu and Ladakh and with the requirements of democracy and good governance in the state as a whole. The interests of Jammu and Ladakh can be protected by a mix of regional autonomy; devolution of power to lower (district, sub-divisional and panchayat) levels; and an equitable inter-regional revenue-sharing formula." But while offering this sound advice, Dasgupta has carefully steered clear of examining its practical implications.

The four essays in the final group (India's and Pakistan's Nuclear Doctrines and US Concerns) are "The Stability-Instability Paradox: Misperception, and Escalation Control in South Asia" by Michael Krepon, "Pakistan's Nuclear Doctrine" by Peter R. Lavoy, "Coercive Diplomacy in a Nuclear Environment: The December 13 Crisis" by Rajesh M. Basrur, and "US Interests in South Asia" by Howard B. Schaffer. In the reviewer's view, this is the most interesting of the three sections in the book and merits careful reading in both India and Pakistan.

Michael Krepon has explored the ramifications of the use of force by south Asia's nuclear-armed adversaries. He stresses the danger emanating from the two sides drawing (largely for public consumption, in the reviewer's view) opposing lessons from tests-of-will like the Kargil war and Operation Parakram. A useful point to note is how Krepon has, over the years, shifted stress from nuclear confidence building measures(CBMs) to conflict resolution in reducing nuclear risks in south Asia. This can be seen from the following sentences in his concluding paragraph: "Much could go badly wrong on the subcontinent unless Pakistan's security establishment reassesses its Kashmir policy and unless New Delhi engages substantively on Islamabad's concerns and with dissident Kashmiris" and "The best chance of defusing nuclear danger and controlling escalation lies in sustained and substantive political engagement." Nuclear CBMs can only do so much.

Nuclear Doctrine

Peter Lavoy's essay is a good piece on Pakistan's nuclear doctrine. He has listed eight separate "uses" for Pakistan's nuclear weapons. In specific relation to India, there are four, viz (i) Last resort weapons to prevent military defeat or loss of territory; (ii) Deterrent to conventional military attack; (iii) Facilitators of low-intensity conflict; and (iv) Tools to internationalise the Kashmir issue. He has drawn attention to the fact that Pakistan's nuclear "redlines" are vague which, the reviewer might add, is true of all countries that reserve the right of "first use."

Rajesh Basrur's essay is about the coercive and nuclear dimensions of Operation Parakram. His narrative of events, diplomatic moves and public statements is valuable for separating chaff from wheat. He has drawn attention to how much India's "compellence strategy" was played out through the US, which had forces in close vicinity. During the confrontation both India and Pakistan sought to "create a fear of nuclear war in the global community, especially the US". He also highlights the fact that India decided to withdraw its forces when Pakistan ceased "responding" to Indian pressure.

The book has no conclusion. The last essay is by Howard Schaffer on US interests in south Asia. Schaffer writes about how the relatively low US interest in the India-Pakistan hostile relationship began to climb in the 1980s when the threat of nuclear war entered the calculus. He says "The US has now come to regard Kashmir less in terms of the equities of the issue -- the lot of the Kashmiri people, the morality or immorality of the insurgency in the Kashmir Valley. Instead it sees the dispute primarily as a tinderbox that could be the flashpoint of a nuclear conflagration." He concludes his essay with the comment that "Washington's view of US interests in the region and the way it goes about promoting them" is unlikely to become more consistent than in the past. Both are valid observations and Indians and Pakistanis would do well to mull over their many implications.

It is not stated in the book, but this volume had its beginnings in a conference at the Asia-Pacific Research Centre in Stanford in early 2003. This was soon after Operation Parakram and before India-Pakistan relations began to thaw in late 2003. Although contributors have updated their narratives to mid-2004, the milieu in which the arguments have evolved was a period of considerable tension. The peace possibilities that have opened up in early 2004 and have got slowly augmented since have, therefore, not been adequately factored in. The book has avoided making any kind of prediction about peace prospects in south Asia although the very title of the book leads the reader to expect some exploration in this area.

In the old popular song about the rout by Americans at New Orleans during the War of 1812, the British "ran so fast the hounds couldn't catch 'em." Even allowing for patriotic hyperbole, it can hardly be argued that the British extricated themselves with a great deal of dignity, particularly given that another battle in the same war inspired the American national anthem.

The impact of that defeat on the British national psyche is now obscure, but nearly two centuries later, as the Americans and their British allies seek to extricate themselves from Iraq, the story of how a superpower looks for a dignified way out of a messy and often unpopular foreign conflict has become a historical genre of sorts. As the pressure to leave Iraq increases, that genre is receiving new and urgent attention.

And in the shadow of the bleak and often horrific news emerging from Iraq nearly every day, historians and political experts are finding at least a wan hope in those imperfect historical analogies. Even in the absence of a sudden and dramatic shift on the battlefield toward a definitive victory, there may still be a slight opening, as narrow as the eye of a needle, for the United States to slip through and leave Iraq in the near future in a way that will not be remembered as a national embarrassment.

Most of the recent parallels do not seem to offer much encouragement for a confounded superpower that wants to save face as it cuts its losses and returns home. Among them are the wrenching French pullout from Algeria, the ill-fated French and American adventures in Vietnam, the Soviet humiliation in Afghanistan and the disastrous American interventions in Beirut and Somalia.

Still, there are a few stories of inconclusive wars that left the United States in a more dignified position, including the continuing American presence in South Korea and the NATO peacekeeping mission in Bosnia. But even those stand in stark contrast to the happier legacy of total victory during World War II.

The highly qualified optimism of these experts about what may still happen in Iraq - let's call it something just this side of hopelessness - has been born of many factors, including greatly reduced expectations of what might constitute not-defeat there. The United States already appears willing to settle - as if it were in a relationship that had gone sour but cannot quite be resolved by a walk out the door, punctuated with a satisfying slam.

Alongside the dampening of hopes, there has also been a fair amount of historical revisionism regarding the darker tales of conflicts past: a considered sense that if the superpowers had made different decisions, things could have turned out more palatably, and that they still might in Iraq.

Maybe not surprisingly, Vietnam is the focus of some of the most interesting revisionism, including some of it immediately relevant to Iraq, where the intensive effort to train Iraqi security forces to defend their own country closely mirrors the "Vietnamization" program in South Vietnam. If Congress had not voted to kill the financing for South Vietnam and its armed forces in 1975, argues Melvin R. Laird in a heavily read article in the current issue of Foreign Affairs, Saigon might never have fallen.

"Congress snatched defeat from the jaws of victory by cutting off funding for our ally in 1975," wrote Mr. Laird, who was President Nixon's defense secretary from 1969 to 1973, when the United States pulled its hundreds of thousands of troops out of Vietnam.

In an interview, Mr. Laird conceded that the American departure from Vietnam was not a pretty sight. "Hell, the pictures of them getting in those helicopters were not good pictures," he said, referring to the chaotic evacuation of the American embassy two years after Vietnamization was complete, and a year after Nixon resigned. But on the basis of his what-if about Vietnam, Mr. Laird does not believe that all is lost in Iraq.

"There is a dignified way out, and I think that's the Iraqization of the forces over there," Mr. Laird said, "and I think we're on the right track on that."

Many analysts have disputed the core of that contention, saying that large swaths of the Iraqi security forces are so inept they may never be capable of defending their country against the insurgents without the American military backing them up. But Mr. Laird is not alone in his revisionist take and its potential application to Iraq.

William Stueck, a history professor at the University of Georgia who has written several books on Korea, calls himself a liberal but says he buys Mr. Laird's basic analysis of what went wrong with Vietnamization.

Korea reveals how easy it is to dismiss the effectiveness of local security forces prematurely, Mr. Stueck said. In 1951, Gen. Matthew Ridgeway felt deep frustration when Chinese offensives broke through parts of the line defended by poorly led South Korean troops.

But by the summer of 1952, with intensive training, the South Koreans were fighting more effectively, Mr. Stueck said. "Now, they needed backup" by Americans, he said. By 1972, he said, South Korean troops were responsible for 70 percent of the front line.

Of course, there are enormous differences between Iraq and Korea. Korean society was not riven by troublesome factions, as Iraq's is, and the United States was defending an existing government rather than trying to create one from scratch.

Another intriguing if imperfect lesson can be found in Algeria, said Matthew Connelly, a Columbia University historian. There, by March 1962, the French had pulled out after 130 years of occupation.

That long colonial occupation, and the million European settlers who lived there before the bloody exodus, are major differences with Iraq, Mr. Connelly noted. But there were also striking parallels: the insurgency, which styled its cause as an international jihad, broke down in civil war once the French pulled out; the French, for their part, said theirs was a fight to protect Western civilization against radical Islam.

Like President Bush in Iraq, President Charles de Gaulle probably thought he could settle Algeria in his favor by military means, Dr. Connelly said. In the short run, that turned out to be a grave miscalculation, as the occupation crumbled under the insurgency's viciousness.

Over the long run, though, history treated de Gaulle kindly for reversing course and agreeing to withdraw, Mr. Connelly said. "De Gaulle loses the war but he wins in the realm of history: he gave Algeria its independence," he said. "How you frame defeat, that can sometimes give you a victory."

The Americans in Beirut and the Soviets in Afghanistan are seen, even in the long view, as cases of superpowers paying the price of blundering into a political and social morass they did not understand.

For the Soviets, that mistake was compounded when America outfitted Afghan rebels with Stinger missiles capable of taking down helicopters, nullifying a key Soviet military superiority. "I don't think they had a fig leaf of any kind," said Henry Rowen, a fellow at the Institute for International Studies at Stanford who was assistant secretary of defense for international security affairs from 1989 to 1991. "They just left."

In Beirut, the Americans entered to protect what they considered a legitimate Christian-led government and ended up, much as in Iraq, in the middle of a multipronged civil conflict. In October 1983, a suicide attack killed 241 American servicemen at a Marines barracks, and four months after that, with Muslim militias advancing, President Ronald Reagan ordered the remaining marines withdrawn to ships off the coast, simply saying their mission had changed. The episode has been cited by Vice President Dick Cheney as an example of a withdrawal that encouraged Arab militants to think the United States is weak.

Today, even as expectations for Iraq keep slipping, some measure of victory can still be declared even in a less-than-perfect outcome, said Richard Betts, director of the Saltzman Institute of War and Peace Studies at Columbia. For example, he said, an Iraqi government that is authoritarian but not totalitarian might have to do.

The key point, he said, is that under those circumstances, the outcome "doesn't look like a disaster even if it doesn't look good."

In the post-9/11 world there is an urgent the need for Americans to understand the Muslim world, and vice versa. Yet precisely when they should be visiting Muslim countries, Americans are kept at home by fears of terrorism. War zones aside, those fears are overblown. It is time their government and their media helped would-be American travelers gain a more realistic understanding of the typically minor risk of anti-U.S. violence that awaits them in the Muslim world.

Recently my wife and I spent a week strolling the streets of Beirut and traveling by bus in its hinterland. The trip was a fool's amusement in the scary light of official and media images of the Middle East as a dangerous place. Yet everywhere we went we felt welcomed.

I own a t-shirt that spells out "CANADA" in large letters beneath a maple leaf. Before leaving California I thought, only half-facetiously, of bringing it along. I'm glad I left it behind. The Lebanese we met were hospitable not hostile.

I am not advising naivete; Lebanon's horrific civil war in the 1970s, 80s, and 90s destroyed much of this city. Washington intervened. More than 200 American soldiers died in a building shrunk to rubble, apparently by Hezbollah -- a self-described Party of Allah that the U.S. still considers a terrorist organization. Beirut became a synonym for mayhem.

Echoes of Beirut's frightening reputation were heard this year in a series of bombings that killed nearly two dozen Lebanese, including Prime Minister Rafiq Hariri in February, scholar-journalist Samir Kassir in May, and opposition politician George Hawi on 21 June, only two days after we had left the country.

An American visitor's initial impressions of Beirut today are ambiguous. Inspiring confidence are the relaxed atmosphere at the new, ultra-modern, and just-renamed Rafiq Hariri Airport and, seen through taxi windows, the attractively renovated downtown area. But then one's taxi skirts the burned-out hulk of the St. George Hotel and, alongside it, behind police tape and armed guards, the twisted carcasses of cars -- detritus from Hariri's assassination.

This juxtaposition of alarm and assurance has become the unnerving natural condition of American travel to and in Muslim or mostly Muslim countries. Survey research shows approval of the United States among the world's billion-plus followers of Islam near an all-time low. The U.S. is viewed unfavorably by 58 percent of Lebanese, according to a just-released Pew Research Center opinion poll. Lebanon and other Muslim-majority societies account for more than half of the 29 countries to which the State Department discourages American travel. Yet in these mainly Muslim destinations the odds that a prudent American tourist will become a casualty of terrorism remain infinitesimal.

I went to Lebanon to do research, to lecture at the American University of Beirut, and to help celebrate the 100th anniversary of my high-school alma mater, the American Community School. For decades, Arab sons and daughters have vied for entry into these and comparable institutions elsewhere in the Middle East, including the American University in Cairo. In Lebanon, in the upland village of Deir al Qamar, I found a small photo shop whose owner had proudly posted a sign identifying himself as a "U.S.A. GRADUATE, BOSTON."

These signs of American popularity must seem incomprehensible to Americans fearful of Muslim wrath. But what really makes no sense is the apocalyptic vision of the Muslim world that America's media tend to purvey, a vision that encourages would-be travelers to stay in Indiana and skip Indonesia.

Overseas Muslims in my experience have a split-level view of America. Most of them dislike -- some detest -- U.S. policy while simultaneously admiring the freedom and openness that Americans, at their best, represent. Many Americans feel the same way. Meanwhile, security concerns have encircled U.S. embassies with enough protective barriers and identity checks to make diplomacy resemble self-imprisonment.

As relaxed interactions at the official level have become a casualty of the war on terror, people-to-people contacts have become more vital than before. The fewer Americans Muslims meet, the less contested will be the image of the U.S. as a cruel montage of Guantanamo and Abu Ghraib.

A task force ought to brainstorm ways of overcoming unrealistic fears of travel. The Bush administration has acknowledged the need to win Muslim hearts and minds abroad. It is time to win back overfearful American hearts and minds as well.

President Bush has claimed a renewed mandate, and has begun to reshuffle his national security team. Condi Rice will move to State; Steve Hadley will move up at the NSC. Rich Armitage and Jim Kelly, who have borne much of the day-to-day responsibility for U.S. policy in Asia, are leaving along with Colin Powell. What might we expect of the Bush administration in its second term?

Generally speaking, continuity rather than change is likely to be the watchword in foreign policy. Above all, the Middle East and South Asia are likely to remain the principal preoccupations of American concerns. In Iraq, Washington will seek to acquit its commitments - to hold elections, train Iraqi security forces, and accelerate reconstruction projects - with whatever measure of dignity and honor it can muster in the face of excruciatingly difficult choices. With Yassar Arafat's death, American engagement in Israeli-Palestinian issues is destined to increase. And Iran's bid for nuclear weapons will continue to challenge the United States and Europe.

Thus Asia will not have pride of place on the Bush agenda. Yet it will continue to command Washington's attention. Why? Because it is in Asia that the interests of the great powers intersect most directly. Asia is the world's most dynamic economic area, and it is becoming more tightly integrated. Washington cannot afford to neglect South and Southeast Asia, for in these areas Islam presents a relatively moderate face. And North Korea, of course, poses a direct and growing challenge to the administration's nonproliferation policy.

Fortuitously, the United States is better positioned in Asia than in most other regions. Our military presence remains sizable and retains mobility and flexibility. Our economy continues to generate solid demand for Asian exports and is a robust source of direct investment. While criticism of American policy is widespread in the region, it is not expressed with the virulence that is seen in Europe and the Middle East. Above all, Washington has cultivated the Asian great powers assiduously, and has managed to improve relations with Tokyo, Beijing, Moscow, and New Delhi - a substantial accomplishment. It remains to be seen whether it can work in concert with others to ameliorate the sources of discord on the Korean Peninsula and over the Taiwan Straits.

The United States, to be sure, confronts some daunting challenges in Asia. If the U.S.-Japan alliance is in excellent condition, defense cooperation with Seoul remains troubled by the sharp divergence in U.S. and Korean perspectives on North Korean aims and strategy. Nor have we found a solid basis for pursuing with Pyeongyang's neighbors a coordinated approach to the six-nation talks. Regional economic cooperation is taking shape along pan-Asian rather than trans-Pacific lines. Developments in the Middle East threaten to "Arabize Islam" in Southeast Asia. And the "Johnny One Note" quality of American diplomacy - i.e. its preoccupation with international terrorism - often plays poorly against Beijing's more broadly based effort to provide regional leadership.

Nor is America unconstrained in its policy efforts in the region. Our military forces are stretched thin globally, impelling some downsizing of deployments in Asia. Huge fiscal deficits loom, and with growing bills falling due in both Iraq and Afghanistan, resources available for policy initiatives elsewhere are likely to be tight. The president has succeeded in pushing negotiations with North Korea into a multilateral framework, yet Washington is being pressed by its negotiating partners to adopt a more conciliatory posture. The democratization of Asian nations, while welcome, does not automatically facilitate U.S. diplomatic objectives. Recent elections in South Korea and Taiwan were decisively shaped by a new generation of voters. Governments in Seoul and Taipei are increasingly accountable, yet viewed from the United States, they are not extraordinarily sensitive to Washington's views, let alone deferential to its lead.

With these considerations in mind, one should expect President Bush and his foreign policy team to continue cultivating close ties with the Asian powers. Whether Washington can effectively utilize those relationships to roll back North Korea's nuclear program and avert crises in the Taiwan Straits will depend heavily on its relationships with the governments in Seoul and Taipei. And at the moment South Korea appears determined to expand economic ties with the North virtually without reference to Pyeongyang's nuclear activities. Taipei remains preoccupied with efforts to assert its own identity while counting on American protection.

In the end, of course, foreign policy rarely sees carefully laid plans bear fruit. Someone once asked a new British prime minister, Harold MacMillan, what would drive foreign policy in his government. He answered without hesitation, "Events, dear boy, events." I expect the same may be true for Mr. Bush.