Book Review: Participation without Democracy: Containing Conflict in Southeast Asia

April 16, 2019

Book Review:

Participation without Democracy: Containing Conflict in Southeast Asia

Garry Rodan (Cornell University Press, New York, 2018)

 

by REVIEWER: Meredith Weiss 06 Feb, 2019

 

Those of us who study politics differ on whether our discipline is rightly termed a “science”. People who weigh in on the “scientific” side tend to emphasise, alongside the permeation of numbers and deductive hypothesis-testing, the stock of knowledge we have accumulated: core concepts and theories, tested and refined over time. With his provocative latest book, Participation without Democracy: Containing Conflict in Southeast Asia, Murdoch University’s Garry Rodan puts years of field research and insight honed over decades to work to prove that such pretensions are more aspirational than well-founded. His argument, taken to its logical conclusion, impugns much of what political scientists study when we study “democracy”. It suggests we have missed the crux both of what distinguishes regime types, and of what sorts of political dynamics spur, constitute, and emerge from transitions. And his argument is convincing.

Southeast Asia—home to a bewildering array of institutional innovations—offers Rodan a trove of variation to mine, as he probes how these states really function. Those readers familiar with Rodan’s extensive oeuvre will note points of continuity with his earlier work: the inseparability of politics from economic forces, the salience of civil society, the crafty ways in which regimes and their leaders sustain dominance. With its rich detail and critical perspective, this book seems something of a capstone as Rodan approaches formal retirement, bringing his rich, career-spanning material on Singapore as well as Malaysia into conversation with a similarly nuanced discussion of the Philippines, and weaving together theoretical threads.

Participation without Democracy places modes of participation (MOPs) front and centre, characterising regimes in terms of both the extent and the type of participation and contestation possible. The book is explicitly oriented toward theory; hopefully the words “Southeast Asia” in the title will not deter readers focussed on other regions. But Rodan builds his analysis with fine-grained evidence, astutely assessed, from his three cases.

He proposes that elites meet the challenges that contradictions of capitalism pose—rising inequality, social disruption and others—by introducing new modes of popular participation. Elites use these MOPs to contain and channel dissent, while deepening concentrations of power and wealth; opponents sometimes hope these same modes offer tools to dismantle elite power. The “central paradox” Rodan traces is the extent to which “expanded political representation—in both its democratic and nondemocratic forms—is serving more to constrain political contestation than to enhance it”. Regimes and the elites at their helm find ways of serving their own interests by strategies that may look participatory on paper but, in practice, narrow the space for contestation and fragment or co-opt challengers.

Political scientists have long placed participation and contestation at the fore of definitions of democracy, but usually with a primarily electoral focus and more as indicators to be measured than as patterns requiring qualitative evaluation. Rodan demonstrates that we need to delve deeper: to ask not just whether participation happens, but who can participate and via what modes, which questions are open to debate and what happens to input gathered. He brings ideology squarely into the frame, not just vis-à-vis neoliberalism—he presumes elites are devout capitalists and popular opponents, less so—but also as shaping how citizens and states engage and pursue their respective interests.

Rodan argues that consultative and particularist ideologies predominate in the Southeast Asian cases he studies. The former favours technocratic, seemingly apolitical problem-solving without political competition while the latter favours discrete communities’ or identities’ rights to specific representation. He also finds germane, though, democratic ideologies (those that facilitate challenges to inequalities inherent to a hierarchical order) and institutionally unbounded (and infirming) populist ideologies. By embedding their preferred ideological frame in institutions—MOPs—elites may fragment or delegitimate challengers and corral the scope of debate. While these ideologies of representation are not mutually exclusive, the “struggle over the permissible boundaries of political conflict” is central to what constitutes politics.

MOPs emerge from relationships within capitalism, developed over time. History matters—especially legacies of Cold War-era suppression of the left and its institutions. Also, the sites of participation under different modes shape the sort of inclusion they allow. On the menu are autonomous individualised political expression, extra-state civil societal expression, collective societal incorporation, and state-sponsored, individual administrative incorporation. This framework shifts our gaze from democratic elections or authoritarian coercion to, for instance, the extent to which civil society is organised and articulated with or independent of political parties, and the breadth of elite-challenging issues and alliances.

Rodan uses two broad initiatives or patterns from each of his three countries to illuminate distinct MOPs and tease apart how each regime functions. Singapore exemplifies societal and administration incorporation, driven by a largely consultative and particularist ideology of representation. Rodan homes in first on the explicitly nondemocratic Nominated Member of Parliament scheme, designed to pre-empt partisan parliamentary opposition by incorporating unaccountable and appointed representatives of sectors and under-represented social segments (who might otherwise find common purpose and/or drift toward opposition parties) for their apolitical expertise. He parses, too, a series of institutions and initiatives for soliciting individuals’ policy feedback, from elaborate ongoing mechanisms to periodic mass “conversations”—albeit with largely pre-set agendas and without necessary influence. This vision of incorporating feedback demonstrates, Rodan explains, a technocratic ideology of politics as the “noncompetitive technical exercise of solving problems”.

In the Philippines, state institutions and capacities serve the interests of oligarchs, who are challenged by opponents ranging from moderate social democrats to anti-capitalist revolutionaries, all with differing visions of democratic representation. Rodan’s first case, the party-list system for electing a share of members of Congress, encourages fragmentation of challengers (as by a three-seat-per-contender cap). The system has been co-opted by forces of traditional politics; it does more to contain than amplify threats to elite privilege.

Meanwhile, proponents of bottom-up budgeting, introduced in 2012, pressed hard-to-reconcile the goals of first, reforming undemocratic institutions via fortified civil societal organisations and second, problem-solving efficiency. That divide served to diminish its role even before Duterte nixed it altogether, and was exacerbated by the program’s ideologically consultative approach of incorporating stakeholders and expertise into cooperative deliberation on elite-defined policy problems.

Lastly, in Malaysia, we find the challenges of a deep-set and structurally reinforced particularist ideology, rendering any sustainable, shared alternative vision elusive. Rodan details how the deep permeation of that ideology has effectively scuttled periodic, carefully delimited initiatives for high-level economic policy consultation and transformation. Any real challenge to extant privilege, as well as critique of the integrity of state institutions, have been put beyond the pale. Last May’s electoral upset may have loosened strictures on the latter front, but to question racial privilege remains, for now, verboten. Over time, these initiatives have disabused many reformers otherwise willing to accept administrative incorporation of hopes of genuine influence. Overall, there are fewer consolidated state-sponsored, extra-parliamentary MOPs in Malaysia than in Singapore or the Philippines, even despite the launch, post-publication, of new consultative initiatives.

The more independent modes that have emerged in Malaysia also face hurdles. Efforts to coordinate within civil society, Rodan argues, as for restoration of local-government elections or broader electoral reform, had made headway even before the 2018 elections. This could be seen most notably in the at least minimal inclusion of nonpartisan local counsellors in opposition-controlled Penang and Selangor after 2008 and the wide-ranging, if more catch-all than coherent, Bersih coalition. But the vagaries of Malaysia’s political economy, as well as NGOs’ preference for prioritising liberal ideological notions of good governance and individual liberties rather than economic issues, intercede. Bersih, for instance, lacks “a socially redistributive reform agenda to address structural inequalities”, without which “UMNO’s particularist ideologies of race and ethnicity would remain seductive for many disadvantaged Malays”. The new government’s embrace of ethnic particularism as a core plank of its campaign strategy in 2018, he suggests, was an unsurprising result.

As Rodan illustrates, these three countries manifest different patterns of capitalist development, including the role of the state and parties, such that they may even adopt similar MOPs with different motives. In all, though, we see starkly the gap between participation and even discursive, or issue-based, representation. In all, we see the balance among and implications of different MOPs as encoding and reinforcing ideas about how power is organised and what it means to be represented—from being permitted to help hone pre-defined policies to being able to change policy agendas, and from participating qua individuals or officially sanctioned categories to seeing promise in and space for novel collective mobilisation. This all presses us to assess regimes less in terms of their institutional structures than per a deeper evaluation of whether those institutions serve more to consolidate elite control or empower outsiders—an issue less of whether the institutions “work” than of how they are designed, and in whose interests.

Rodan’s analysis throws down the gauntlet to scholars of regimes. He offers a trenchant, if polite, rejoinder to more superficial assessments, and ups the ante by concluding with sketches of how an MOP framework helps us to understand contemporary populist challenges or transitions to other institutional forms. He considers how an MOP framework may also assist in making sense of the permeation of depoliticising consultative and particularist ideologies in established democracies such as the UK. The agenda Rodan presents recommends a fundamentally different approach to understanding and classifying regimes—one which will surely call into question the status of most purported democracies by scrutinising how the policy/political process actually works. Illiberalism at home, and pro-market ideologies abroad, are putting pressure on Southeast Asian civil society organisations’ financial health.

Moreover, and in keeping with his intellectual roots, Rodan asks that we not pretend a distinction between politics and economics: it is the “dynamic societal conflicts” economic processes generate that produce political institutions. That said, the language of capitalism’s contradictions seems at times a bit forced. Presumably any other economic order would yield its own contradictions and its own similarly skewed MOPs. Still, given the near-hegemony of capitalism in Southeast Asia and globally, whether state- or market-led, Rodan’s critique of this particular structuring of production, wealth, and interests is understandable.

But it is not just scholarly observers, but domestic reformers, who may find Rodan’s analysis challenging. Rodan stops short of describing what MOPs would enable effective challenges to elites and their privileges—real democracy—or from what quarters we might expect such a push. Which interests understand themselves sufficiently as silenced that they seek another path, and how might institutions be remade (or opposition parties be induced) to engage with those perspectives and preferences more directly? There is an underlying assumption here of a politically neglected non- or anti-neoliberal core in all three states, not just the Philippines, ready to be mobilised.

One might ask, though—particularly given the now-protracted enervation of organised labour, plus mass investment in capitalism (for example, cross-class participation in stock markets), however manifestly inegalitarian—whether alternative ideologies are now more decrepit or discarded than actively suppressed. And are there positive examples operating alongside, and perhaps at cross-purposes to, these institutions: have these patterns of social conflict yielded also more progressive, perhaps even scalable, MOPs? Put differently, where do we go from here, beyond trudging resignedly toward an elitist, contention-stifling future? Uplifting this book is not —but Rodan’s provocative exegesis is not just a good read, but a call to rethink how we study as well as pursue participation, representation and elite-challenging reform.

Meredith L Weiss is Professor and Chair of Political Science in the Rockefeller College of Public Affairs & Policy at the University at Albany, State University of New York. She has published widely on political mobilisation and contention, the politics of identity and development, and electoral politics in Southeast Asia, with particular focus on Malaysia and Singapore. Her books include Student Activism in Malaysia: Crucible, Mirror, Sideshow (Cornell SEAP, 2011), Protest and Possibilities: Civil Society and Coalitions for Political Change in Malaysia (Stanford, 2006), the forthcoming The Roots of Resilience: Authoritarian Acculturation in Malaysia and Singapore (Cornell), and ten edited or co-edited volumes, most recently, Political Participation in Asia: Defining and Deploying Political Space (with Eva Hansson, Routledge, 2018) and The Political Logics of Anticorruption Efforts in Asia (with Cheng Chen, SUNY, forthcoming). She co-edits the Cambridge University Press Elements series on Southeast Asian Politics and Society. Current projects focus on “money politics” in Southeast Asia, urban governance in the region, and reform processes in post-GE14 Malaysia.

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Can Thailand’s junta manage the election’s outcome?

26 March, 27, 2019

20 March 2019

by James Ockey, University of Canterbury

ttps://www.eastasiaforum.org/2019/03/20/can-thailands-junta-manage-the-elections-outcome/

For Thailand’s junta, the 2019 election is to be carefully managed so that the government can return to power with enhanced legitimacy, both among its own people and the international community. Yet the National Council for Peace and Order (NCPO) may have miscalculated its ability to control the elections effectively and so enhance its legitimacy.

The constitution and electoral laws were carefully designed to disadvantage the two large parties, Pheu Thai and the Democrats. Meanwhile, the junta leaders are allowed to appoint the 250 senators who will join with elected MPs to choose the prime minister. The constitution also allowed junta leader Prayut Chan-o-cha to be nominated for prime minister without membership in a party. This gives him greater flexibility in seeking the additional 126 elected MPs whose support is necessary for him to remain in his current position.

While writing a favourable constitution and electoral laws proved possible, managing the campaign process is much more difficult. Yet strong efforts are being made. Elections are under the purview of the Election Commission of Thailand (ECT). PNet, an NGO that independently monitors the election process, recently awarded the ECT an ‘F’ grade for its performance, stating that it ‘has failed to demonstrate it is not under undue political influence’.

So far, the ETC has decided that a government handout to the elderly and the poor just prior to the beginning of campaigning did not violate election laws and that the pro-government Phalang Pracharat Party (PPRP) had not accepted illegal donations at a fundraiser. Most recently, it ruled that the prime minister could actively campaign with the party that nominated him (a step too far even for Prayut himself, who instead has chosen to follow the party on the campaign trail).

In contrast, in the case of the anti-government Thai Raksa Chart party, the ECT recommended dissolution without following its own procedures in a rush to judgement. The Constitutional Court would later follow that recommendation.

In January and February, I interviewed candidates from a range of parties, in all four regions of Thailand. None expressed any faith in the ECT. Candidates of pro-regime parties thought the ECT was ineffective. Candidates of anti-regime parties not only questioned the ECT’s capability, but also feared that it was focused on identifying any small violation of the law that would justify banning opposition candidates and parties.

Opposition parties also have to defend themselves from the National Broadcasting and Telecommunications Commission (NBTC). The NBTC sought to shut down the opposition-oriented Voice TV for 15 days during the election, only to see the decision reversed by the courts. Other threats have come from criminal investigations, with leaders of the Future Forward party charged under the Computer Crime Act.

Ironically, but perhaps not surprisingly, attempts to manage the outcome of the election appear to have created a backlash against the regime. Recent polling done by the Nation newspaper shows the PPRP winning just 62 of 350 constituency seats, with the anti-regime Pheu Thai party winning 136. A recent rally of the PPRP in Korat drew just a few hundred supporters, leaving thousands of empty seats.

Perhaps more interesting are the results of a recent King Prajadhipok Institute poll, which indicate that 96 per cent of eligible voters intend to vote. One would not expect that level of enthusiasm if voters were happy with the government and the status quo.

Political parties also seem to be reacting to anti-government sentiment. The Democrat party, which is likely to win the second most seats after Pheu Thai, recently announced that it would not support the return of Prayut as prime minister. The Democrat Party had previously been deliberately ambiguous regarding its stance. It also set conditions for potential pro- and anti-government coalition partners.

In an interview with Bloomberg, Bhum Jai Thai (BJT) party leader Anuthin Charnvirakul stated that the party will wait for the outcome of the election before finalising its stance, so that it can take into account the voice of the people. BJT has long been considered to be firmly on the government side. Answering this way, even as a campaign tactic, indicates concerns with being seen as too firmly on the side of the junta.

Despite these indications of very limited support for the government, it is expected that the junta will continue to manage the outcome. In the interviews I conducted in January and February, academics and candidates suggested that the junta will expend resources to convince both small parties and individual MPs to join the pro-government side after the election, ensuring support will go well beyond the elected members of the PPRP.

One leading member of a large party noted that the ECT has 60 days to certify the results of the election. They raised concerns that during that period anti-government parties might be dissolved to ensure the junta remains in power.

While Prayut is likely to return to power, it will not be with the clear mandate he seeks. The manipulation of the elections to ensure his return is more likely to result in a decline in legitimacy and support at home, although even a manipulated election may help relieve international pressure to return to democracy. Under such circumstances, concerns about future government stability are likely to remain.

James Ockey is Associate Professor at the School of Language, Social and Political Sciences, University of Canterbury

 

 

Cambodia: Emerging from the Shackles of History in relations with Thailand, Vietnam and China

March 16,2019

By Kimkong Heng and Veasna Var

http://www.ippreview.com

Kimkong Heng is a doctoral candidate at the University of Queensland and a recipient of the Australia Awards Scholarship. Veasna Var is a doctoral candidate at the University of New South Wales, Canberra and a Senior Fellow at the Cambodian Institute for Cooperation and Peace.

Cambodia has a long history. It has both a proud past and a tragic history. The country had its period of greatness during the ancient Khmer Empire, an empire which built the fabled temple Angkor Wat, one of the seven wonders of the world. Following the Angkorian era which began at the beginning of the 9th century and collapsed 600 years later, Cambodia found itself in one of the most tragic periods in its history. For almost 500 years, the country came under the enduring pressure of foreign invasion and annexation. Both Thailand and Vietnam, its stronger neighbors, annexed large parts of Cambodian territory.

Cambodia, unable to survive by itself due to constant foreign encroachment from its two more powerful neighbors, reached out to France for protection. The French protectorate of Cambodia was then established in 1863, signalling the beginning of Cambodia’s colonial period which lasted for 90 years before the country gained its independence in 1953. Following independence, Cambodia, under late King Sihanouk’s reign, saw major development in almost all areas. Unfortunately, peace was short-lived and the process of nation building did not last very long, as Cambodia soon after found itself engaged in a series of civil wars which dragged on for more than three decades.

Starting in the 1960s, the country became a Cold War battleground and involved in the Vietnam War, was bombed by the US, and later suffered an unspeakable tragedy during the Khmer Rouge regime which lasted for almost four years and killed an estimated 1.7 million Cambodians.

The Khmer Rouge genocidal regime was so devastating that it had instilled in virtually every Cambodian a strong sense of hatred, fear, and scepticism. Although Cambodia was fortunate to have survived the auto-genocidal regime, this tragic past has profound implications for Cambodia and its people.

The memories of pain which cannot be blotted out easily and which will not fade away anytime soon have been carried over to present-day Cambodia and they still haunt the new generations of Cambodians. These bitter memories, either experienced first-hand or told from the survivors, have adversely affected the minds of Cambodian people from all walks of life. Common among them are negative thoughts and feelings towards foreigners or xenophobia.

Xenophobia in Cambodia is a serious issue which should not be ignored or taken lightly. It is a critical issue that has to be addressed carefully and quickly. If not addressed properly and timely, xenophobic sentiments may lead to large-scale violence, discrimination, and hatred. One example was a violent riot against Thai embassy and Thai businesses in Phnom Penh in 2003. This incident was obviously motivated by anti-Thai sentiments among Cambodians. At that time, there were rumors that a famous Thai actress had claimed that Angkor Wat belongs to Thailand. Without knowing whether the rumors were true or not, many xenophobic and nationalistic Cambodians began a savage attack on anything related to Thai.

Thailand and Cambodia share a common culture and history. People of both countries have made numerous claims regarding past events, lands, temples, arts, dances, and more. Each side has asserted and will continue to claim as their own relevant pieces of land, elements of arts and culture, and other claimable abstract and non-abstract things, despite historical facts.

There is no doubt a deep-rooted anti-Thai sentiment among Cambodians and perhaps vice versa. Whenever something which is controversial or uncertain happens, as long as it involves Thailand and Thai people, a sense of anti-Thai sentiments, an element of Cambodia’s broader xenophobic issue, would take centre stage. A notable example is a series of fierce border clashes between Cambodian and Thai troops over the Preah Vihear Temple between 2008 and 2011. The skirmishes were sparked by a land dispute which was in turn caused by conflicting narratives of historical facts and animosity towards each other.

All decisions, measures, and approaches to solutions of issues, be it political, economic, social, or cultural, tend to be clouded by anti-Thai sentiments which seem to exist in every Cambodians of all ages and genders. They seem to lie in hibernation inside Cambodian people and just need a small trigger to come back to life and begin, in many cases, to create problems and issues that could further exacerbate an already troubled situation. The consequences of which are generally unpleasant and harmful, easily leading to more racial discrimination, hatred, and anti-Thai nationalism. This issue of xenophobic sentiments, if not taken into account properly by both Cambodian and Thai governments and relevant stakeholders, will remain and will continue to harm Cambodia-Thailand relations and prevent harmonious co-existence between Cambodian and Thai people.

The anti-Thai sentiment is just one thing; anti-Vietnamese nationalism is another, an issue which appears to be even more serious in Cambodia. It is widely believed and known among Cambodians that Vietnamese people’s intention to encroach on Cambodian land never changes. Many Cambodian people hold a perception that Vietnam is a threat to Cambodia’s territorial sovereignty. This constant pessimistic thought about the Vietnamese, the so-called anti-Vietnamese sentiment, exists in almost every Cambodians to varying degrees. Much like the anti-Thai sentiment, this hatred towards Vietnamese people lies in a dormant state until it is “awakened” by any issue or incident involving Vietnamese.

“Youn”, a Khmer word commonly used to refer to Vietnam and Vietnamese people, is arguably a pejorative term associated with anger and hatred. Khmer people often use this word instead of its equivalents, Vietnam and Vietnamese, to refer to their eastern neighbors when they are angry or want to express negative emotions about Vietnam and its people. As noted two decades ago, “forms of Cambodian racism towards Vietnam and the Vietnamese minority in Cambodia did not develop in a historical vacuum but rather developed particularly in response to the expansionist tendencies of the pre-colonial imperial state”. Apparently, almost if not all Cambodians know or have heard stories of Vietnam’s encroachment on Cambodian territory. They are all aware of the fact that many Cambodian provinces were lost to Vietnam. In particular, it is well-known among Cambodians that Vietnam encroached Prey Nokor (formerly a Cambodian territory) and institutionalized it as a city, now known as Ho Chi Minh City.

emories and knowledge of Vietnam’s encroachment on Cambodia’s sovereign territory are passed down from one generation of Cambodians to the next and are seen to be ingrained in the minds of many Khmers. Even now Cambodian people still think that Vietnam wants to “swallow” Khmer land and that Vietnam’s wish to take over Khmer territory still remains. This line of thinking is not helpful. Not only does it fuel anger, hatred and distrust among Cambodians, but it also stirs up widespread anti-Vietnamese feelings in Cambodia.

Recognizing the deep-rooted anti-Vietnamese sentiments among Cambodians, Sam Rainsy, the exiled leader of the now-dissolved opposition Cambodia National Rescue Party (CNRP), has always taken advantage of this issue and used it as part of his party’s main propaganda. As one of the authors of this analysis has argued in a recent article, anti-Vietnamese sentiments have always been a political tool Sam Rainsy and his party’s senior officials use to undermine their opponents, Prime Minister Hun Sen and his ruling Cambodian People’s Party (CPP) elites. The use of the anti-Vietnamese sentiment, another form of Cambodia’s xenophobia, is harmful, although the opposition party draws support from it. What this anti-Vietnamese rhetoric does is create tensions, division, and confrontations among Cambodians. Sam Rainsy and his party elites should begin focusing their attention on tackling other important social issues, not dwelling on using anti-Vietnamese sentiments for political gain at the expense of Cambodia-Vietnam relations and amicable existence between people of the two neighboring countries.

Moving beyond the anti-Thailand and anti-Vietnam sentiments, Cambodia still has to face other forms of xenophobia. There were memories of anti-French sentiments, particularly among older Cambodians, driven by the impact of French colonization of Cambodia. However, now there seems to be no evidence of any anti-French sentiment in Cambodia today, as all attention is given to more modern issues facing the country. Looming large are key issues such as income generation, self and family survival, education, politics, and other critical social issues.

The Cambodian government should improve law enforcement and work hard to reduce the large and growing number of unpleasant incidents such as violence, accidents, and abuses that tend to involve the Chinese diaspora living in Cambodia. The anti-Chinese sentiment has emerged from these issues.

It is particularly and surprisingly fortunate that seemingly the whole country has moved beyond discrimination and historical hatred against France whose colonization of Cambodia led to the loss of Kampuchea Krom (former territory of Cambodia) to Vietnam in 1949. Although there have been petitions demanding the decolonization of Kampuchea Krom territory, there seems to be no sign of animosity expressed towards France and the French people. Little is known why Cambodians seem to disregard the fact that the French colonialist “cut” Kampuchea Krom and gave it to Vietnam, despite numerous protests from Khmer Krom activists in Cambodia and abroad. However, that Kampuchea Krom was ceded to Vietnam by the French has obviously further intensified anti-Vietnamese sentiment among Cambodians.

Moving forward, two issues remain which could potentially become new forms of xenophobia in Cambodia, if not addressed properly and in a timely manner. The first is the incumbent government’s recent reiteration of the US bombing of Cambodia in the late 1960s and early 1970s that contributed to the rise of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge which took control of Cambodia in 1975 and immediately proceeded to decimate the country and its people, wishing to create a pure, self-reliant, and sovereign Khmer nation. Hun Sen and his team’s criticism of the United States, although offering short-term benefits to their party, is also harmful. It may over time develop a sense of hatred and ill will towards the US and American people, potentially creating another form of xenophobia in Cambodian society, that is, anti-American sentiment among Cambodians, particularly those who support the current ruling party.

In reality, history is history; it can neither be denied nor changed. However, it is much better to learn from past lessons to plan for the present and future rather than let the past control the present and dictate the future. The ruling elites of the CPP, in this regard, should move beyond their recent narratives of the “US bombing” and, like the CNRP, should direct their attention to resolving pressing social issues facing Cambodia. Repeating and promulgating the damage that the US inflicted on Cambodia in the 1970s will not benefit Cambodia and its people in the long run. It only exacerbates the current poor relations between the US and Cambodia, which is certainly not a viable foreign policy option for the latter.

The second issue which has arisen recently in Cambodia is the emergence of anti-Chinese sentiment which appears to be on the rise. The perceived increase of anti-Chinese feelings among many Cambodians are seen as a negative side effect of the growing Chinese presence in Cambodia, especially in the country’s coastal province, Sihanoukville. Over the last few years, Chinese investors have in large numbers flocked into Sihanoukville to invest in building casinos, apartments, theme parks, and resorts.

The Chinese’s increasing presence has implications for the Cambodian province and Cambodia at large. Not only can one see the mushrooming of high-rise buildings, casinos, restaurants, and other businesses run by the Chinese immigrants, but one can also experience or at least feel an increase in crime, violence, drug trafficking, and pollution, in the once-sleepy coastal province. There are frequent reports in the news about violence, abuses, scams, cybercrime, and violations of expected social norms and rules of law, many of which involve the Chinese living and working in Cambodia and in Sihanoukville in particular. Until October 2018, for example, 1,649 Chinese nationals were deported from Cambodia for scams and cybercrime offenses. These many incidents, together with similar stories happening in other countries, have arguably contributed to the emerging rise of anti-Chinese sentiments among the general public in Cambodia.

This new issue of anti-Chinese nationalism may not be seen as a serious issue now, but if left to develop freely and not addressed properly and timely, it is likely to lead to a big problem, consequences of which is less predictable and should raise concerns for the Cambodian government and Cambodian people. It is the duty and responsibility of the current ruling government of Cambodia to find ways to address the issue while it is still in the early stages. Although the Cambodian government, especially the ruling elites, has significantly benefited from Cambodia’s close relationship with China, it is wise to diplomatically bring this issue to the discussion table and work towards collaborating with the Chinese government to tackle this rising anti-Chinese sentiment among the Cambodian populace. It is always a good idea to make big problems small and small problems even smaller. To do so, the Cambodian government, with support from its Chinese counterpart, has to do something to deal with this emerging issue.

Xenophobia in Cambodia, whether it is a long-standing issue like anti-Thai and anti-Vietnamese sentiments or a new one like anti-Chinese sentiment, is a critical issue that needs to be addressed properly and taken more seriously than it currently is. As has been argued, Cambodian youth have crucial roles to play in improving Cambodia-Vietnam relations. Youth are the backbone of the country and the future of Cambodia. They are “Cambodian ambassadors in the making who are responsible for raising the profile of Cambodia in the region and the international stage”. They can contribute to navigating the Cambodian ship as long as they are given chanced and their efforts are recognized and valued. Thus, engaging youth in all realms of political, economic, social, and cultural life, for example, is important and is what the Cambodian government should strive for.

Cultivating and nurturing mutual respect, understanding, and tolerance between people of all nations involved is also crucial. In the case of Thailand and Vietnam, prevalent racial hatred, contempt, and discrimination resulting from awful past history and recent events can probably be minimized through the cultivation of genuine and mutual respect between Khmer and Thai people and between Khmer and Vietnamese. With respect to improving Cambodia-Thailand relations, one of these authors has also argued in an article in the IPP Review for the important role of mutual respect and the role of Cambodian youth in shaping Cambodia’s relations with Thailand. As it is argued, Cambodian people, youth in particular, “should not dwell on their dark history; instead, they should use lessons from history to help them make informed and impartial judgments when dealing with issues concerning Thailand and its people”.

However, these cannot be done without support from the Cambodian government as well as governments of Thailand and Vietnam. All parties have vital roles to play in fostering and improving their respective relations. Efforts, commitment, and cooperation at all levels, individual, institutional, and national, are essential. These are important steps towards fostering good relations between these countries which have regarded each other as one’s own traditional enemy.

With respect to the US, the Cambodian government should stop using the rhetoric of US bombing of Cambodia. While it is true, it only worsens Cambodia’s relations with the world’s largest economy. Although Cambodia has great relations with China, its largest economic and military benefactor, it would be unwise to alienate the US and fully embrace China. The most viable approach or way forward for Cambodia is to make as many friends as possible. It is undeniably true that having two best friends, the US and China, is absolutely better than having just one friend. All Cambodian eggs should be placed on two or more baskets, not just one basket. It is safer and more secure that way.

On the issue of anti-Chinese sentiment, Cambodia should take it into account most seriously. Now it seems to be not an issue yet but it will be a problem, a big one, if no due attention is paid to it. Recently, Prime Minister Hun Sen has urged and assured that many Chinese immigrants who are working in Cambodia, particularly in Sihanoukville, will leave the country once the Chinese projects for which they work are complete. This assurance is helpful but not sufficient. The Cambodian government should improve law enforcement and work hard to reduce the large and growing number of unpleasant incidents such as violence, accidents, and abuses that tend to involve the Chinese diaspora living in Cambodia. The anti-Chinese sentiment has emerged from these issues. Addressing them would also address the recently growing anti-Chinese feelings among the Cambodian general public.

Finally, xenophobia in Cambodia is a major social problem that requires absolute attention from all stakeholders in the country. It is neither the job of the government nor the duty of Cambodian citizens alone. It is a critical issue that requires cooperation, commitment, understanding, and willingness from all parties, regardless of their political views, positions, or beliefs. Cambodian xenophobia and paranoia, no doubt, have a malign influence on Cambodia’s efforts to promote the Kingdom’s integration into the region and the world. It will definitely damage the image of Cambodia on the global stage in the long term.

It is time for Cambodians, the ruling elites and the ordinary people, to work together in unity and in harmony to solve key issues facing their country. As a saying goes, “God helps those who help themselves”. Thus, Cambodians must work collaboratively and willingly to help themselves and their country.

 

 

The Mekong region is caught in a tug-of-war

February 14, 2019

by Nguyen Khac Giang, VEPR

http://www.eastasiaforum.org/2019/02/07/the-mekong-region-is-caught-in-a-tug-of-war/

For the Mekong countries, including Thailand, Laos, Myanmar, Cambodia and Vietnam, 2018 was a big year both domestically and regionally. Key developments from last year will inevitably continue to shape the politics of the region in 2019. In terms of domestic affairs, the most worrying trend is the consolidation of autocratic power in almost all countries.

 

In Vietnam, the sudden death of president Tran Dai Quang in September 2018 created a huge power vacuum, which was filled by Vietnamese Communist Party chief Nguyen Phu Trong. By merging the two most powerful positions in Vietnamese politics, he has become the strongest Vietnamese leader since the death of Ho Chi Minh in 1969, edging the communist state towards the Chinese model of centralised rule.

Cambodia, in theory a multi-party democracy, has practically become a one-party regime after an election that saw Prime Minister Hun Sen’s Cambodian People’s Party win all parliamentary seats in July 2018. He is now one of the world’s longest-serving heads of government, having held the premiership for 33 years since 1985.

Things are no better in Thailand. Four years after seizing power, the military junta has made — and broken — five promises to hold a general election to establish a civilian government. Even if the sixth promise is fulfilled in February 2019, it will be difficult to sen Myanmar, the intensifying Rohingya crisis has not only created Southeast Asia’s biggest humanitarian concern but also exposed the reluctance of Aung San Suu Kyi and her National League for Democracy to complete the democratic transition that started in 2011.e swift change, as the junta will exploit all means available to dominate the electoral process.

In Myanmar, the intensifying Rohingya crisis has not only created Southeast Asia’s biggest humanitarian concern but also exposed the reluctance of Aung San Suu Kyi and her National League for Democracy to complete the democratic transition that started in 2011.

 

In Myanmar, the intensifying Rohingya crisis has not only created Southeast Asia’s biggest humanitarian concern but also exposed the reluctance of Aung San Suu Kyi and her National League for Democracy to complete the democratic transition that started in 2011.

The autocratisation of the Mekong region has significant implications at a time when its giant neighbour China continues a long march to the south. China has committed billions of US dollars in concessional loans and credit to Mekong countries via the Lancang-Mekong Cooperation (LMC), an ambitious initiative which was launched in 2016. But the LMC’s actual impact remains to be seen. While the LMC is ostensibly aimed at creating a ‘shared future of peace and prosperity’, China can use it as part of a carrot and stick strategy due to its largely opaque and non-binding frameworks.

It should be noted that Beijing has a record of working closely with autocracies. Beijing has helped leaders in Central Asia guard against ‘colour revolution’, provided African autocrats with an alternative model of development and has aided socialist Venezuela in crisis. A less democratic Mekong region will be more exposed to China’s strategy of buying influence, which often involves closed-door negotiations and dealings.

The LMC, as well as other established regional mechanisms such as the Mekong River Commission and Lower Mekong Initiative, have also failed to address the core issue which theoretically binds Mekong countries together: transnational water management. In July 2018, a section of the Xe-Pian Xe-Namnoy hydropower dam in southern Laos collapsed, reportedly killing 34 people, leaving 97 missing and displacing 6000 others. The collapsed part of the dam was only an auxiliary section and the whole project is built in one of the Mekong’s tributaries instead of the main stream. Needless to say, it could have been an even greater catastrophe.

In Vietnam, for example, hydro dams are considered to be time bombs ticking over the head of the Mekong Delta on which 90 per cent of Vietnam’s rice exports depend. Despite the incident, the Laos government resumed its dream of becoming ‘a battery for Asia’ by permitting work to continue on several hydro projects. Beneficiary countries of the hydropower boom such as Thailand and China gave condolences and support to Laos but continued building their own dams. China, for instance, has built 7 and has plans for a further 21 dams on the Mekong — plans formulated without consultation with lower-Mekong countries.

The ongoing trade war between China and the United States also has the potential to impact the Mekong region both economically and politically. If the trade war accelerates, investors will consider countries like Vietnam and Thailand, and to a lesser extent Cambodia, as shelters to circumvent higher tariffs and other technical barriers. Exports from the Mekong region to the United States, many of which are substitutes for Chinese goods, will also benefit from the trade dispute. On the other hand, the region also bears the risk of a flood of Chinese goods into domestic markets, which is already a big issue.

More broadly, the Mekong region will continue to be a battlefield for influence between the two global superpowers. The rumour that China seeks to build a military base in Cambodia, although dismissed by Hun Sen, should be a serious warning for Washington. Of the five Mekong countries, only Vietnam is wary of China’s charm offensive due to a lingering sovereignty dispute in the South China Sea. The superpowers’ tug-of-war will perhaps come to play a key role in shaping the region’s development trajectory.

Nguyen Khac Giang is the lead political researcher at the Vietnam Institute for Economic and Policy Research (VEPR) at the Vietnam National University in Hanoi.

This article is part of an EAF special feature series on 2018 in review and the year ahead.

Khun Anand Panyarachun and the Making of Modern Thailand

January 30,2019

Book Review:

Khun Anand Panyarachun and the Making of Modern Thailand

Dominic Faulder (Editions Didier Millet, Singapore, 2018)

by Greg Raymond 22 Jan, 2019

https://www.newmandala.org/book-review/anand-panyarachun-and-the-making-of-modern-thailand

MEET THE AUTHOR: Dominic Faulder discusses his new book “Anand Panyarachun and the Making of Modern Thailand” in the presence of former Prime minister and Elder Statesman Khun Anand himself.

The Author’S Talk will be held at the Neilson Hays Library, on January 31, 2019 at 18:30. Doors will open at 18:00. The event is free to attend. To reserve your seating, please write to info@neilsonhayslibrary.org

 

The personal cost of Thailand’s political turbulence is often opaque to outsiders. It was surprising for this reader to discover that Anand Panyarachun, scion of the Thai establishment, was once himself caught in the swiftly changing tides of Thai power politics. In the bout of indigenous McCarthyism that followed the October 1976 anti-student thuggery at Thammasat University, scores were also settled amongst the elites. This saw Anand, then Permanent Secretary of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, investigated as a communist sympathiser.  Stood down from his position, Anand spent some weeks in limbo before being exonerated, by which time he had already decided that his career as a diplomat was over and business would be his next pursuit. It was not the last time that the outspoken public figure was to incur the wrath of powerful figures, including in military and judicial circles.

Dominic Faulder’s new biography is a very welcome addition to the rather sparse English-language offerings on former Thai political leaders. While Anand’s life was depicted in a 1999 biography in Thai, this is the first consolidated portrait in English, covering Anand’s career as diplomat, politician, businessman and philanthropist. As Faulder intends, the account of Anand’s life is also a very accessible and vivid account of Thai diplomatic and political history. Particularly well covered are two decades: the 1970s, as Thailand “separated” from the United States and its military bases, and the 1990s, when Anand as a two-term prime minister set in train what many mistakenly thought was to be a permanent democratic trajectory.

Born of a mother of Hokkien Chinese background, and a father of Mon ancestry, whose own forbears had held senior positions in the Siamese bureaucracy, Anand’s family name was bestowed by Rama VI. It drew on the Sanksrit-Pali for wisdom, panyaa and the name of the Ramayana hero, Arjuna. After growing up in Bangkok, including living through the Japanese occupation, Anand followed in his father’s footsteps with a British public school education.

Schooling in England at age 16 in 1948 brought with it a tough first year of “unrelenting cultural immersion”.  But by the time he graduated from Cambridge in 1955, after spending 7 continuous and formative years in England, he had become in his own words, “practically bicultural”.

Excellent English language and sharp critical thinking skills meant that after joining the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MOFA) in 1955 his career progression was rapid. Helped by a close relationship with foreign minister Thanat Khoman, Anand was appointed Ambassador to the United States at tender age of 39, a position he later held while concurrently representing Thailand at the United Nations.  Interestingly, at this time Anand and the Thais were elder mentors to the relatively inexperienced Singaporean diplomats, a situation that would be hard to imagine today.

Anand’s forthrightness and unwillingness to suffer fools were on display from early in his career, as was his strong belief that MOFA should lead on foreign policy. From time to time, both characteristics brought him into conflict with the Thai military, at no time more so than when he took a hard line on negotiating the terms of the exit of United States forces from Thailand under then Foreign Minister Chatichai Choonhaven. His willingness to insist on MOFA’s prerogatives on foreign policy made him enemies in the Thai military, who then sought his downfall following the 1976 violence. The account of this difficult period in Thailand’s alliance with the United States is one of the book’s highlights, as is the account of Anand’s visit to China accompanying Prime Minister Kukrit Pramoj in 1975, including meetings with the ailing Mao.

Many will also read with great interest the telling of Anand’s two formal forays into politics in the early 1990s. Never a member of any political party, Anand’s clean reputation lead to him being tapped twice for short stints as prime minister, each time as a way of circumventing political crises. The exact circumstances of Anand becoming an appointed, rather than elected, prime minister are given close attention in this book and are revealing of patterns of Thai politics, and in particular the role of the monarchy. The book also gives good accounts of key achievements of the Anand governments, including the ASEAN free trade agreement, the Cambodian peace process and the effective response to HIV/AIDs.

Anand’s direct, confident manner led some to question his “Thainess”. Certainly he was sometimes warned by colleagues to soften his approach in debating his peers and disciplining his staff.  But to Tej Bunnag, a contemporary of MOFA who also ventured briefly into politics, “Anand is very Thai but of a certain kind”, with a personality reflecting his background as “the youngest son of a very distinguished family”.

While it is tempting to imagine that more politicians like Anand in Thailand’s leadership class might be the solution to Thailand’s struggles with democracy, it is probably also true that his uncompromising manner would be difficult to sustain over a longer period. And while it is true the man and his political record reveal few blemishes, one area where Anand might now admit he might have done more is with respect to unionism. As Prime Minister Anand presided over legislation that one activist called “the most crushing blow ever for the Thai labour movement”. Unfortunately as this review was written, Thailand had just claimed the unenviable title of world champion of income inequality, with 1% of the population possessing 66% of Thailand’s wealth.

In his post-prime ministerial career Anand continued to sit on numerous boards, including banks, as well as take an active role in his first choice of business, Saha Union. He also worked on several international and national inquiries and commissions, including for the United Nations. Probably his most significant contribution, with many recommendations yet to be implemented, is with respect to the troubled South. Anand took charge of a National Reconciliation Commission after the violence flared again after 2004, but the political division since the 2006 coup has stymied progress. Anand remains committed to decentralisation and devolution of power to Thailand’s outer regions, not only the southern border provinces but also the north. On this score, Anand remains more liberal than many of his colleagues in the ruling elite.

 

A staunch monarchist, Anand has never served on the Privy Council and appears unlikely to do so. In the words of businessman Prida Tiasuwan, Anand is “pale yellow” in his approach to the monarchy. A massive reader, a gregarious and willing public speaker, with a sharp and analytical mind, Anand as a royalist democrat has been a significant contributor to Thailand’s public life and national development.

 

Faulder’s account of his life is highly readable. It is not without some flaws; the book sometimes gets into trouble when freelancing on history. For example, the claim that Thailand never joined the League of Nations is mistaken; while it was never member of the League Council, the executive body of the General Assembly, it was an active founding member of the League itself. Anand himself seems sketchy on Siamese history. For example, when he states that Thailand as an uncolonised country was left untutored on international relations, Anand seems to overlook the role of the several capable and trusted foreign legal advisers employed by Thai kings, such as the Belgian Gustav Rolin-Jaequemins employed by Chulalongkorn or the American Francis Sayre employed by Vajiravudh.

A book cannot be all things to all readers, but there were some questions I would have liked to have seen explored. What for example, are Anand’s attitudes to Buddhism, to modern China, to the future of US–China relations? Does Anand himself speak Chinese? Based on many interviews with Anand, the book in the end is a sympathetic biography. Faulder does seek to gently challenge Anand, seeking for example his reaction to Duncan McCargo’s “network monarchy” thesis and the suggestion that he is part of this network. But the additional interviewees are also somewhat biased towards the “yellow” royalist side of politics. It may have been interesting to know how some of the Red Shirt or Pheu Thai leadership or even Thaksin Shinawatra clan remember Anand. These are however, relatively small quibbles, and the book is highly recommended.

.

Dr Greg Raymond is Research Fellow at the Strategic and Defence Studies Centre in the Australian National University’s Coral Bell School of Asia Pacific Affairs. He is currently writing a book on Thailand’s alliance with the United States, with John Blaxland. His book on Thai strategic culture, Thai Military Power: a Culture of Strategic Accommodation was published by NIAS Press in 2018. Before joining the ANU, he worked extensively in the Australian Government, including in strategic and defence international policy areas of the Department of Defence.

Marrying the Thai monarchy and modernity

January 6, 2019

by Pavin Chachavalpongpun

 

https://www.newmandala.org/marrying-thai-monarchy-modernity/

The royal wedding between British Prince Harry and American Meghan Markle has heralded a new era of one of the oldest monarchies in the world. The constant reinvention of the British royal family serves to remind other monarchies of the need to stay relevant to avoid anachronism.

Eighty years ago, Meghan marrying Harry would have remained an impossible dream. In 1937, the American and twice-divorced Wallis Simpson wedded Prince Edward, Duke of Windsor, a year after Edward’s abdication. Simpson represented unwanted qualities and was disqualified from being a British queen. But in 2018, Meghan—also an American divorcee, biracial, and a Hollywood actress—was cheerily welcome into the Windsor family. Times have changed. So has the British monarchy.

Thousands of miles away, Thailand is among the few countries in Southeast Asia where the monarchy has survived. The royal wedding in the United Kingdom was examined thoroughly in Thailand both in printed and social media.

In traditional media, the coverage of the nuptials was extensive, stoked by the public’s curiosity over British royal affairs, and held as a mirror to Thailand’s royals. Printed media focused on two main elements: first, the awe-inspiring pomp that accompanied the British royal institution, and second, the cost of the lavish wedding. In the two elements, commentaries appeared highly paradoxical.

The grandeur of the British royal wedding, as portrayed in Thai newspapers, was taken as living proof of the necessity of the Thai monarchy’s own solemnity, even its divinity. Celebrating Harry and Meghan’s wedding became a tool to strengthen the royal institution in Thailand, amidst growing anti-monarchist sentiment.

On the other end of the spectrum however, reports in local Thai media taking the cost of the British royal wedding as a point of discussion could be taken as subtle criticism of the Thai royals. For example, the widest circulated Thai Rath newspaper published a story on the expense of the wedding, reportedly as high as 32 million pounds, and expressed plainly to its readers, “The British royal family bears the cost of the wedding”.

The cost of maintaining the monarchy has long been hotly debated in the United Kingdom. In Thailand, although discussing royal affairs risks lèse-majesté charges, since the coup of 2006, society has been more vocal about this aspect of the Thai monarchy: its profligate spending. Year-after-year, public funding for the Thai monarchy has risen, sometimes stratospherically.

During the reign of King Bhumibol, successive governments funnelled enormous funds into the “Budget for the promotion of the dignity of the monarchy”. In 2013, for example, the budget amounted to US$395 million. After the coup in 2014, the Thai junta increased the budget for the monarchy by approximately 20 per cent, reaching around US$435 that year and US$536 million in 2015.

During the reign of King Bhumibol, successive governments funneled enormous funds into the “Budget for the promotion of the dignity of the monarchy”. In 2013, for example, the budget amounted to US$395 million. After the coup in 2014, the Thai junta increased the budget for the monarchy by approximately 20 per cent, reaching around US$435 million that year and US$536 million in 2015.

After the enthronement of King Vajiralongkorn, however, the budget for the monarchy was cut. US$123 million was allocated to the Thai monarchy in 2018. Still, extra funding streams from various ministries to promote the monarchy have not been curtailed. Overall, the Thai king still enjoys a far larger budget than the British queen. Britain’s Royal Household says that its annual sovereign grant is around US$52 million, although that does not cover costs such as security.

While reports seen in Thai Rath and other newspapers are mixed, Thai social media responded to the royal wedding in the United Kingdom more sensationally. The debate is divisive. On the one hand, the Harry-Meghan wedding allowed some regality to rub off on Vajiralongkorn’s controversial reign. In Thailand, the old discourse of France being “an unfortunate nation” with its abolished monarchy is juxtaposed with the pomp of the British monarchy, hitting home the important point of monarchy being a quintessential pillar of the nation. In a time of the Thai monarchy’s waning popularity, royalists hope to ride on Harry and Meghan’s popular wave to boost their own royal institution at home.

The point delicately raised by Thai Rath on the cost of the wedding was recurrently discussed in social media. Some argued against the use of taxpayers’ money on the monarchy’s private expenses. Despite the lèse-majesté law, comments on King Vajiralongkorn’s share of the public purse proliferated in social media circles. From this perspective, the Windsor wedding served as another blow to the unpopular monarch, who resides for much of the time in Munich, Germany.

Now that Thailand has entered into the tenth reign, His Majesty King Vajiralongkorn has sought to consolidate his rule, partly through a series of royal ceremonies. His father was cremated last year, an exercise that symbolically ended the era of Bhumibol and signaled the beginning of the Vajiralongkorn reign. His mother, Queen Sirikit, is bed bound. Should she pass away, Thailand will once again enter into mourning mode. The official coronation of Vajiralongkorn could fall after the Queen’s funeral. But the kingship of Vajiralongkorn will not be complete until he names the new queen of the Thai nation. All these ceremonies involve prodigious public spending.

Adaptability is a key to the monarchy’s survival. The high profile British wedding took place at a time of chaotic politics. Britain threatens Europe with Brexit. The United Kingdom’s new immigration policies are getting tougher. Nationalistic rhetoric is on the surge, both in Europe and in the United States. The wedding, watched by millions, was not just a plain fairy tale. There were serious political messages involving the new monarchy and global politics.

In Thailand, since the beginning of the new reign, the only change witnessed by Thais has been the resurgence of royal absolutism. It is ironic that while a royal wedding in the United Kingdom was partly extolled in Thailand as a symbol of adaptability, the royalists’ perception of the wedding between Harry and Meghan reflected a desire for their monarch to be more absolute.